The First Love Of Alipang Havens
- Thread starter Copperfox
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Copperfox
Well-known member
To express appreciation for Glenburne coming back on board, here is a helpful scorecard of THE PRINCIPAL BAD GUYS!!!
))) THE VENEZUELAN ALLIANCE desires to wipe out what remains of representative government and Judeo-Christian beliefs in the Western Hemisphere. It is not as strong as the more goodguy-ish Mexican Alliance, and so doesn't dare try too much direct aggression; but it lends various forms of assistance to the Aztlanos and other evildoers. It provided Aztlan with weapons, but otherwise its actions have little direct effect on the Diversity States at present.
))) THE AZTEC-MAOIST PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF AZTLAN desires to conquer and plunder the Diversity States, even though the Diversity States doesn't have that much stuff left to plunder. Aztlan persists in this direction because (1) practically everybody else could clean their clock in a fight, and (2) the whole Aztec-Maoist regime got started in the first place by whipping up a mindless racist hatred on the part of Hispanics toward gringos. But Aztlan itself is not really unified; the criminal gangs which help run it compete among themselves, and some of the Native American groups within Aztlan are treated as inferior despite glowing promises held out to them when Aztlan was founded. More seriously, Emilio Formentera, eldest son of dictator Tonio Formentera, is developing schemes independently of his father (the Moon-colony plot being something the elder Formentera is assisting with).
))) THE FOUR CALIPHATES -- Egyptian, Babylonian, European and Central Asian -- are all more or less oppressive of their own populations, and all theoretically want to rule the world; but the four-way rivalry among them, over which has the "purest" Islam, slows them down from doing as much harm to non-Muslim nations and moderate-Muslim nations as they would otherwise do. All of them have more cordial relations with the Venezuelan Alliance and Aztlan than they do with any other non-Muslim nations or alliances -- though China has made some effort at diplomatic normalization with them.
))) THE CHINESE TRIADS, collectively forming the biggest independent organized-crime network remaining on Earth, are also friendly with Aztlan; it was they who originated the Moon-colony infiltration idea. The Triads are on the defensive now, because so many of their bought traitors in the Chinese government and armed forces have been exposed. The now-sovereign Tribal Republic of Hawaii is one of the places the gangsters are cultivating as a refuge from Chinese authorities; of course, to make it a viable refuge, they have to obtain strong defense assets for the Hawaiians, and they are doing so.
))) THE DIVERSITY STATES, like its hostile neighbor, is divided against itself, as everyone in the ruling class wants the biggest piece of the pie. The elimination of Chief Justice Sherman Lake leaves the President and Vice-President as the biggest players; but in a regime where it's really the Party that rules, other strong characters (like Valery Khloponin, Commander of the Campaign Against Hate) potentially could attempt a power grab in the Party Presidium. Vice-President Carlos Anselmo, while not especially bloodthirsty, does enjoy ruling and using defenseless subjects; and if it came to self-preservation, who knows what reserves of ruthlessness he might find within himself? President Jessica Trevette positively revels in murdering helpless victims; it was through secretly taking part in Aztlan's ritual human sacrifices that she began her warped "romance" with Emilio Formentera. Jessica and Bad-Emilio have plans in the oven which have not yet been revealed to the reader.
))) THE VENEZUELAN ALLIANCE desires to wipe out what remains of representative government and Judeo-Christian beliefs in the Western Hemisphere. It is not as strong as the more goodguy-ish Mexican Alliance, and so doesn't dare try too much direct aggression; but it lends various forms of assistance to the Aztlanos and other evildoers. It provided Aztlan with weapons, but otherwise its actions have little direct effect on the Diversity States at present.
))) THE AZTEC-MAOIST PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF AZTLAN desires to conquer and plunder the Diversity States, even though the Diversity States doesn't have that much stuff left to plunder. Aztlan persists in this direction because (1) practically everybody else could clean their clock in a fight, and (2) the whole Aztec-Maoist regime got started in the first place by whipping up a mindless racist hatred on the part of Hispanics toward gringos. But Aztlan itself is not really unified; the criminal gangs which help run it compete among themselves, and some of the Native American groups within Aztlan are treated as inferior despite glowing promises held out to them when Aztlan was founded. More seriously, Emilio Formentera, eldest son of dictator Tonio Formentera, is developing schemes independently of his father (the Moon-colony plot being something the elder Formentera is assisting with).
))) THE FOUR CALIPHATES -- Egyptian, Babylonian, European and Central Asian -- are all more or less oppressive of their own populations, and all theoretically want to rule the world; but the four-way rivalry among them, over which has the "purest" Islam, slows them down from doing as much harm to non-Muslim nations and moderate-Muslim nations as they would otherwise do. All of them have more cordial relations with the Venezuelan Alliance and Aztlan than they do with any other non-Muslim nations or alliances -- though China has made some effort at diplomatic normalization with them.
))) THE CHINESE TRIADS, collectively forming the biggest independent organized-crime network remaining on Earth, are also friendly with Aztlan; it was they who originated the Moon-colony infiltration idea. The Triads are on the defensive now, because so many of their bought traitors in the Chinese government and armed forces have been exposed. The now-sovereign Tribal Republic of Hawaii is one of the places the gangsters are cultivating as a refuge from Chinese authorities; of course, to make it a viable refuge, they have to obtain strong defense assets for the Hawaiians, and they are doing so.
))) THE DIVERSITY STATES, like its hostile neighbor, is divided against itself, as everyone in the ruling class wants the biggest piece of the pie. The elimination of Chief Justice Sherman Lake leaves the President and Vice-President as the biggest players; but in a regime where it's really the Party that rules, other strong characters (like Valery Khloponin, Commander of the Campaign Against Hate) potentially could attempt a power grab in the Party Presidium. Vice-President Carlos Anselmo, while not especially bloodthirsty, does enjoy ruling and using defenseless subjects; and if it came to self-preservation, who knows what reserves of ruthlessness he might find within himself? President Jessica Trevette positively revels in murdering helpless victims; it was through secretly taking part in Aztlan's ritual human sacrifices that she began her warped "romance" with Emilio Formentera. Jessica and Bad-Emilio have plans in the oven which have not yet been revealed to the reader.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Chapter 99: The Enclave Starts Looking Better
"Easy now, Varinia. We want good range of motion first, before we try too hard to increase load-bearing capacity."
Evan Rand had an intriguing new patient. Varinia had been an early test subject for the same strength enhancement enjoyed by the actress Pulverizer Clarendon; but in Varinia's case, the altered fibrous protein central to the process had set off a massive immune reaction in her whole body. Varinia had nearly died. She _would_ have died, by reason of the Health Rationing Agency cutting short her care, if not for her privileged status as a fairly high-ranking Fairness Party member in the Gulf Coast Federal District. As it was, she had spent weeks in a life-support tank at what used to be Johns Hopkins Hospital, while the whole failed enhancement process was reversed. She had emerged with normal biochemistry once again; but her normalized muscles were in a state of atrophy more severe than would usually have occurred from the amount of time they had gone unused. Having granted her this much special treatment, the Health Rationing Agency had denied her the further tissue regeneration that would have restored her natural strength quickly. This made her a subject for old-fashioned physical therapy; and the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union had given the job to Evan.
Right now, on their second day together, Varinia was shakily standing between two parallel support bars--which reminded Evan of the bars his late father-in-law, Mr. Heron, had once used in his recovery from a crippled state. Varinia's arms were currently wearing battery-powered exoskeletal sleeves, giving her arms the strength to bear her weight as she eased her legs back into action. The Party organization in her home district had arranged for her to have this bit of technological help. The primary physician on the case had concurred with Evan's judgment that, legs having more muscle mass than arms, Varinia's leg muscles could use some advance extra time of rehab work, before the patient was asked to start work on her arms also.
On her first time going the length of the handrails and back, she was really hand-walking with the exoskeletal sleeves doing the work. That was how all her parallel-bars work had been on the first day. But now, for the next down-and-back walk, Evan used the remote control to make the sleeves hold up only ninety percent of her weight, letting her begin to put forth just a little exertion in her thighs and calves. She grew confident in this, but Evan would not increase the burden on her legs anytime today. Crawl before you run.
When Evan placed her on the table for some stretching and massaging work, she gave him the first smile he had seen from her. "You know what, Citizen Rand? If I ever decided to start liking men, you'd be a good one to start with. Just so you know."
Is this entrapment? thought Evan. Trying to make me say something about my exclusive relationship with Summer, so I can be accused of hate speech? Aloud, he cautiously replied, "Thanks for the compliment. Fortunately, in case you do start liking men, you'll find _plenty_ of men left who like women."
The session proceeded without mishap for several more minutes... and then the door of the large rehab room slammed open, and in came Evan's labor-governance facilitator, accompanied by a middle-aged woman whom Evan had seen once or twice at union meetings, but whom he didn't know personally.
"Dobie? What's the matter?"
Dobie Marsalis wasted no time. "Evan, grab your things. Morella here will take over your patient. There's trouble, and we need to get you and your family to a safe place." And just like that, any difficulties that might have happened between Evan and Varinia were forever academic. The last words Evan heard from his patient were, "Goodbye, Evan, good karma."
Hustling Evan down a staircase, Dobie told him, "Don't be alarmed if I pretend to rough you up a bit as we go out on the street. That's just for the benefit of any onlookers."
"What about my family?" Evan demanded. "What's going on?"
"Summer's in my car; don't worry, security devices are on to keep her safe."
"_Your_ car? You have driving privileges?"
"Licensed to drive, though I don't _own_ a car. This one really belongs to the union, of course. As for your bioproducts, district police already removed them from their schools, and took them to the same place I'm about to drive you and Summer. Quiet now, here's the door; pretend you're afraid of me."
Dobie made a show of dragging Evan by the arm from the building entrance to the parked electric automobile, cursing at him the whole time. There were indeed some onlookers; for their benefit, the union enforcer shouted loudly, "You gutflak-eating non-mutual God-fascist! It's reprogramming for you, and you'd better be grateful that we bother to cure you!" Some of the onlookers did seem to be glaring at Evan with hostility. But an instant later, he was in the back seat and in his wife's arms. Dobie pulled out carefully into traffic which otherwise consisted of bicycles and pedicabs.
"Has Dobie explained to you what's happening?" said Summer.
"Only that there's trouble of some kind, from which the union is trying to protect us and the kids."
"Here's what it is," Dobie began. "There've been arson fires at euthanasia offices in Trenton and Baltimore; then last night, there was one right here in Georgetown. All three fire scenes were marked with graffiti of the letters KKQ."
Evan's jaw dropped. "WHAT?? The Ku Klux Quakers? But everybody already _knows_ that they were a made-up thing!"
"Yes, they do know that--which is why there's been nothing in the media about the arson attacks. The government doesn't _want_ a purge of Biblicals at this time, and doesn't want public hatred stirred up."
"Then who's _trying_ to stir it up?"
"I'm not privy to the police investigation; but my own guess is that, with the Campaign Against Hate embarrassed and reduced in power, the Pinkshirts are trying desperately to restore a feeling in the Party that they're still needed. And nobody ever accused the Pinkshirts of having much creative imagination."
"Right. But are you sure our kids are safe?"
Summer answered this herself. "Dobie allowed me to talk on his dataphone to Anne-Marie; she and the others are waiting for us at the union local's dormitory building."
"Then I thank you for that, Dobie," said Evan. "But how bad IS this? Are all the Biblicals in town threatened?"
"We don't think so. The arson crimes were all directed against facilities of the Health Rationing Agency; and as far as I've been able to find out, the angry talk being spread is about Christians in _healthcare_ professions. Thus, your friends like Wayne Schell and the Desmonds should be safe, though the district police will be keeping watch over them."
"And since H.R.A. belongs to the Distribution Department," Summer added, "it would be logical for their Indoctrination Department rivals, if creating an illusion of insurrection, to make Distribution suffer at the same time."
"As for you Rands," Dobie resumed, "it's a lucky break for you that Carolyn Biao has been favorably impressed with Evan's work. She's pulling strings to make sure you can be approved for a relocation, to someplace not affected by this new provocateur activity."
Evan and Summer looked each other in the eye, sharing an unspoken thought. Summer nodded; so Evan addressed their gruff benefactor:
"Is there any chance we could be relocated to the Western Enclave?"
"Easy now, Varinia. We want good range of motion first, before we try too hard to increase load-bearing capacity."
Evan Rand had an intriguing new patient. Varinia had been an early test subject for the same strength enhancement enjoyed by the actress Pulverizer Clarendon; but in Varinia's case, the altered fibrous protein central to the process had set off a massive immune reaction in her whole body. Varinia had nearly died. She _would_ have died, by reason of the Health Rationing Agency cutting short her care, if not for her privileged status as a fairly high-ranking Fairness Party member in the Gulf Coast Federal District. As it was, she had spent weeks in a life-support tank at what used to be Johns Hopkins Hospital, while the whole failed enhancement process was reversed. She had emerged with normal biochemistry once again; but her normalized muscles were in a state of atrophy more severe than would usually have occurred from the amount of time they had gone unused. Having granted her this much special treatment, the Health Rationing Agency had denied her the further tissue regeneration that would have restored her natural strength quickly. This made her a subject for old-fashioned physical therapy; and the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union had given the job to Evan.
Right now, on their second day together, Varinia was shakily standing between two parallel support bars--which reminded Evan of the bars his late father-in-law, Mr. Heron, had once used in his recovery from a crippled state. Varinia's arms were currently wearing battery-powered exoskeletal sleeves, giving her arms the strength to bear her weight as she eased her legs back into action. The Party organization in her home district had arranged for her to have this bit of technological help. The primary physician on the case had concurred with Evan's judgment that, legs having more muscle mass than arms, Varinia's leg muscles could use some advance extra time of rehab work, before the patient was asked to start work on her arms also.
On her first time going the length of the handrails and back, she was really hand-walking with the exoskeletal sleeves doing the work. That was how all her parallel-bars work had been on the first day. But now, for the next down-and-back walk, Evan used the remote control to make the sleeves hold up only ninety percent of her weight, letting her begin to put forth just a little exertion in her thighs and calves. She grew confident in this, but Evan would not increase the burden on her legs anytime today. Crawl before you run.
When Evan placed her on the table for some stretching and massaging work, she gave him the first smile he had seen from her. "You know what, Citizen Rand? If I ever decided to start liking men, you'd be a good one to start with. Just so you know."
Is this entrapment? thought Evan. Trying to make me say something about my exclusive relationship with Summer, so I can be accused of hate speech? Aloud, he cautiously replied, "Thanks for the compliment. Fortunately, in case you do start liking men, you'll find _plenty_ of men left who like women."
The session proceeded without mishap for several more minutes... and then the door of the large rehab room slammed open, and in came Evan's labor-governance facilitator, accompanied by a middle-aged woman whom Evan had seen once or twice at union meetings, but whom he didn't know personally.
"Dobie? What's the matter?"
Dobie Marsalis wasted no time. "Evan, grab your things. Morella here will take over your patient. There's trouble, and we need to get you and your family to a safe place." And just like that, any difficulties that might have happened between Evan and Varinia were forever academic. The last words Evan heard from his patient were, "Goodbye, Evan, good karma."
Hustling Evan down a staircase, Dobie told him, "Don't be alarmed if I pretend to rough you up a bit as we go out on the street. That's just for the benefit of any onlookers."
"What about my family?" Evan demanded. "What's going on?"
"Summer's in my car; don't worry, security devices are on to keep her safe."
"_Your_ car? You have driving privileges?"
"Licensed to drive, though I don't _own_ a car. This one really belongs to the union, of course. As for your bioproducts, district police already removed them from their schools, and took them to the same place I'm about to drive you and Summer. Quiet now, here's the door; pretend you're afraid of me."
Dobie made a show of dragging Evan by the arm from the building entrance to the parked electric automobile, cursing at him the whole time. There were indeed some onlookers; for their benefit, the union enforcer shouted loudly, "You gutflak-eating non-mutual God-fascist! It's reprogramming for you, and you'd better be grateful that we bother to cure you!" Some of the onlookers did seem to be glaring at Evan with hostility. But an instant later, he was in the back seat and in his wife's arms. Dobie pulled out carefully into traffic which otherwise consisted of bicycles and pedicabs.
"Has Dobie explained to you what's happening?" said Summer.
"Only that there's trouble of some kind, from which the union is trying to protect us and the kids."
"Here's what it is," Dobie began. "There've been arson fires at euthanasia offices in Trenton and Baltimore; then last night, there was one right here in Georgetown. All three fire scenes were marked with graffiti of the letters KKQ."
Evan's jaw dropped. "WHAT?? The Ku Klux Quakers? But everybody already _knows_ that they were a made-up thing!"
"Yes, they do know that--which is why there's been nothing in the media about the arson attacks. The government doesn't _want_ a purge of Biblicals at this time, and doesn't want public hatred stirred up."
"Then who's _trying_ to stir it up?"
"I'm not privy to the police investigation; but my own guess is that, with the Campaign Against Hate embarrassed and reduced in power, the Pinkshirts are trying desperately to restore a feeling in the Party that they're still needed. And nobody ever accused the Pinkshirts of having much creative imagination."
"Right. But are you sure our kids are safe?"
Summer answered this herself. "Dobie allowed me to talk on his dataphone to Anne-Marie; she and the others are waiting for us at the union local's dormitory building."
"Then I thank you for that, Dobie," said Evan. "But how bad IS this? Are all the Biblicals in town threatened?"
"We don't think so. The arson crimes were all directed against facilities of the Health Rationing Agency; and as far as I've been able to find out, the angry talk being spread is about Christians in _healthcare_ professions. Thus, your friends like Wayne Schell and the Desmonds should be safe, though the district police will be keeping watch over them."
"And since H.R.A. belongs to the Distribution Department," Summer added, "it would be logical for their Indoctrination Department rivals, if creating an illusion of insurrection, to make Distribution suffer at the same time."
"As for you Rands," Dobie resumed, "it's a lucky break for you that Carolyn Biao has been favorably impressed with Evan's work. She's pulling strings to make sure you can be approved for a relocation, to someplace not affected by this new provocateur activity."
Evan and Summer looked each other in the eye, sharing an unspoken thought. Summer nodded; so Evan addressed their gruff benefactor:
"Is there any chance we could be relocated to the Western Enclave?"
Copperfox
Well-known member
Lyra Bender, leading Forest Ranger for Wyoming Sector, had accepted the job of transporting the convict whom Wilson and Quinn had observed from Heaven. Having had an errand in Rapid City just before the transport plane landed at the airfield, she drove him into Wyoming in her overlander. There was no worry about his making any trouble, since he was reprogrammed for abject submissiveness.
By the time Lyra pulled up at the Havens house in Sussex, a phone call had reached Kim Havens from Dana Pickering, letting her and Alipang know to expect this newcomer--though neither Forest Rangers nor exiles yet had any clue about what the man had done years ago in a Self-Esteem Center. Alipang was working now on a dental patient, with Kim assisting by her pain-deadening acupuncture; and Wilson was off doing farm work; so Esperanza met the Forest Ranger and the nervous-looking man in her custody.
"Hello, Ranger Bender. Mama and Papa are pulling teeth. Who's your friend?"
"This is a man we hope will become _your_ friend. He's brand new to the Enclave; his name is Jerry Sunderberg, but his friends call him Gerbil."
The girl's eyebrows rose. "Gerbil? Is that because he's so fidgety?"
If ever a simple nod was high-strung, the convict's nod was so. "Yes, young citizen, that's why they called me that, you're an uncommonly intelligent girl, or should I say young woman, don't want to offend you, please don't take offense, I only want to get along with everyone, the Forest Ranger tells me that your male chromosome source is a dentist, that's a fine profession, I don't want to bother him, but I'll be glad to meet him anytime."
Taken aback by how fast the stranger talked, Esperanza finally found her opening to speak again. "I'm not offended, and I'm sure Papa and Mama will be glad to meet you. You can call me Essie;" and she offered to shake hands.
"Um, Ranger, is this appropriate contact?" Gerbil asked anxiously.
"Perfectly harmless," replied Lyra, and rolled her eyes as the convict shook hands with the child. "Mr. Sunderberg has been assigned to work as an assistant to Mr. Rochefort and Mr. Tomisaburo when they're on building-repair jobs in the area. The triumvirate noticed how well your family did at orienting Frodo Von Spock to the Enclave; so it looks to your family to help another _slightly_ eccentric exile feel at home."
"I won't be a bother to anyone," said Gerbil; "really I won't, I never use hate speech or disrespect the environment, people will hardly know I'm around except when I'm at work, no one will find me annoying--"
Esperanza patted the odd man's arm, as if she were the adult and he the child. "It's all right, I'm sure no one will get mad at you. Ranger Bender, where will Mr. Sundberg be living?"
"On the next street over, the Feldons' house." Lyra was referring to a childless young exile couple--childless because the Genetic Health Service had ruled them unfit for parenting privileges--who had found employment connected with the creation of the new Yellowstone Sector, and would be staying up there.
"Has he got groceries yet?"
"The Agriculture office will rustle up something for him to start."
"Maybe he can eat supper with us tonight. Let me ask Mama and Papa."
By the time Lyra pulled up at the Havens house in Sussex, a phone call had reached Kim Havens from Dana Pickering, letting her and Alipang know to expect this newcomer--though neither Forest Rangers nor exiles yet had any clue about what the man had done years ago in a Self-Esteem Center. Alipang was working now on a dental patient, with Kim assisting by her pain-deadening acupuncture; and Wilson was off doing farm work; so Esperanza met the Forest Ranger and the nervous-looking man in her custody.
"Hello, Ranger Bender. Mama and Papa are pulling teeth. Who's your friend?"
"This is a man we hope will become _your_ friend. He's brand new to the Enclave; his name is Jerry Sunderberg, but his friends call him Gerbil."
The girl's eyebrows rose. "Gerbil? Is that because he's so fidgety?"
If ever a simple nod was high-strung, the convict's nod was so. "Yes, young citizen, that's why they called me that, you're an uncommonly intelligent girl, or should I say young woman, don't want to offend you, please don't take offense, I only want to get along with everyone, the Forest Ranger tells me that your male chromosome source is a dentist, that's a fine profession, I don't want to bother him, but I'll be glad to meet him anytime."
Taken aback by how fast the stranger talked, Esperanza finally found her opening to speak again. "I'm not offended, and I'm sure Papa and Mama will be glad to meet you. You can call me Essie;" and she offered to shake hands.
"Um, Ranger, is this appropriate contact?" Gerbil asked anxiously.
"Perfectly harmless," replied Lyra, and rolled her eyes as the convict shook hands with the child. "Mr. Sunderberg has been assigned to work as an assistant to Mr. Rochefort and Mr. Tomisaburo when they're on building-repair jobs in the area. The triumvirate noticed how well your family did at orienting Frodo Von Spock to the Enclave; so it looks to your family to help another _slightly_ eccentric exile feel at home."
"I won't be a bother to anyone," said Gerbil; "really I won't, I never use hate speech or disrespect the environment, people will hardly know I'm around except when I'm at work, no one will find me annoying--"
Esperanza patted the odd man's arm, as if she were the adult and he the child. "It's all right, I'm sure no one will get mad at you. Ranger Bender, where will Mr. Sundberg be living?"
"On the next street over, the Feldons' house." Lyra was referring to a childless young exile couple--childless because the Genetic Health Service had ruled them unfit for parenting privileges--who had found employment connected with the creation of the new Yellowstone Sector, and would be staying up there.
"Has he got groceries yet?"
"The Agriculture office will rustle up something for him to start."
"Maybe he can eat supper with us tonight. Let me ask Mama and Papa."
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Copperfox
Well-known member
It happened that Kim had already invited Sylvia Lathrop to come over for supper that evening--on general principles, in view of all the hospitality and help the elderly widow had extended to others in Sussex. But when Sylvia heard about the brain-tampered convict who had shown up, she didn't want to miss meeting him and ministering to him. So she added to the menu: a stir-fried mix of turnip greens and chickweed, and some venison sausage that the Grange volunteer Chung Sun-Kim had given her when passing through lately. All this was worked out quickly enough to enable also inviting Lyra Bender to stay and eat.
Wilson made it back from farm work in time to join his family around the table. This was a table with an insertable leaf, which was needed now. Seated in clockwise order as the meal began were Alipang, Sylvia, Forest Ranger Bender, Gerbil, Esperanza, Wilson, Brendan, and a mightily bulging Kimberly Havens. By Kim's own wish, all food items were offered first to the three guests, beginning with Sylvia; by Alipang's insistence, Kim came next after Gerbil, while Alipang himself was the last to take anything.
This behavior by the head of the household evoked a comment from the agnostic Lyra Bender: "Dr. Havens, I see that you're deviating from the past customs of patriarchal societies all over the world. The paterfamilias used to be served first and get the best of everything. So are the news stories right about you? Have you been changing your traditional ways thanks to the Party's guidance?"
Kim bristled at this, giving her husband no time to offer his own answer. "Miss Bender, Alipang has been serving himself last at meals for the _entire_ time we've been married; and he picked up this _custom_ from his father, who has been doing the same for as long as I've known him. Neither the Enclave, nor the Fairness Party, ever contributed the _slightest_ increment to making my husband the generous and selfless man he is!"
Lyra swallowed and her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Citi-- MRS. Havens. I didn't mean to give offense."
"Of course you didn't," Alipang interjected in a milder tone. "You were simply speaking in the kind of terms _everyone_ in authority is expected to speak in, these days. But I can tell you that, no matter how common and widespread it was in history for a husband and father to lord it over the household for his own gratification, _all_ the men who acted that way were _themselves_ the ones deviating: deviating from the clear teaching of Jesus."
Sylvia came to the support of her host and friend: "That's true. Our Lord said, 'He who would be greatest among you must be the servant of all.' Anyone who knows Alipang, knows that he follows this principle. Ask around, and you'll find that he gives as much _free_ dental treatment to people as he can afford to do without depriving his own family of their needs."
Remembering that this _was_ a law-enforcement officer she had scolded, Kim now said, "Please don't mind me, Miss Bender; my pregnancy has me cranky."
Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan, and the convict guest as well, had been tensely silent during this; now they began to relax a bit.
The softening tones made it easier for Lyra to apologize without losing face. "Well, I'm truly sorry for talking so condescendingly about Dr. Havens. It's just that streamcast reports about him, from the occasions when he attracted journalists' attention, did say he was coming into more conformity."
"It wasn't worth the trouble to contradict those reports," Alipang told her. "But as Kim said, the Party adds _nothing_ to our moral standards. It's _already_ established Christian doctrine that we're supposed to obey rulers, _unless_ they back us into a corner where our conscience is at stake."
Suddenly, Gerbil found the nerve to speak. "Excuse me, Dr. Havens, uh, sir, I know I don't know much, but, um, that is, I never heard those things about Biblicals. I always heard, you know, that they were greedy and hateful, and they wanted, you know, to overthrow any government that wasn't run by them."
"You heard wrong," Alipang said calmly. "You're obviously old enough to have been at least a young adult _before_ Christians began to be gagged and blocked in all media venues; but I still don't blame you for your ignorance, because you could easily have grown up in circles where the groupthink _wanted_ to believe the bad things about us that you just mentioned. So, if I may ask, what kind of circle _did_ you grow up in?"
Gerbil hung his head. "You might call it the lazy panhandling circle. I never knew my father, but my mother taught me how to game the system for all the free stuff I could get."
"Still," put in Lyra, "I give you credit for the good attitude you have _now_ toward working for a living."
"Part of the programming they did on me, Ranger. Now I'll never know if I _would_ have learned responsibility _without_ the brain adjustments. But my past history suggests not. I remember, back when I lived in Denver--you know, before it was Aztlan; I happened to move east about three years before the turnover. Anyway, what I remember is, when I was a full-time beggar in Denver, there was a city program to keep folks like me from freezing. They gave me a really good winter coat, and an insulated sleeping bag. Without even using the sleeping bag once, I sold it...for money to buy liquor."
"Young man," said Sylvia, "there's something else you should know about our faith: our God is known as the God of giving people another chance. You can make a new start here. Even if you _are_ programmed, make it an occasion for your _own_ will and feelings to start growing accustomed to civilized life."
"I hope I can do that, Citizen Lathrop."
"Call me Sylvia."
Wilson made it back from farm work in time to join his family around the table. This was a table with an insertable leaf, which was needed now. Seated in clockwise order as the meal began were Alipang, Sylvia, Forest Ranger Bender, Gerbil, Esperanza, Wilson, Brendan, and a mightily bulging Kimberly Havens. By Kim's own wish, all food items were offered first to the three guests, beginning with Sylvia; by Alipang's insistence, Kim came next after Gerbil, while Alipang himself was the last to take anything.
This behavior by the head of the household evoked a comment from the agnostic Lyra Bender: "Dr. Havens, I see that you're deviating from the past customs of patriarchal societies all over the world. The paterfamilias used to be served first and get the best of everything. So are the news stories right about you? Have you been changing your traditional ways thanks to the Party's guidance?"
Kim bristled at this, giving her husband no time to offer his own answer. "Miss Bender, Alipang has been serving himself last at meals for the _entire_ time we've been married; and he picked up this _custom_ from his father, who has been doing the same for as long as I've known him. Neither the Enclave, nor the Fairness Party, ever contributed the _slightest_ increment to making my husband the generous and selfless man he is!"
Lyra swallowed and her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Citi-- MRS. Havens. I didn't mean to give offense."
"Of course you didn't," Alipang interjected in a milder tone. "You were simply speaking in the kind of terms _everyone_ in authority is expected to speak in, these days. But I can tell you that, no matter how common and widespread it was in history for a husband and father to lord it over the household for his own gratification, _all_ the men who acted that way were _themselves_ the ones deviating: deviating from the clear teaching of Jesus."
Sylvia came to the support of her host and friend: "That's true. Our Lord said, 'He who would be greatest among you must be the servant of all.' Anyone who knows Alipang, knows that he follows this principle. Ask around, and you'll find that he gives as much _free_ dental treatment to people as he can afford to do without depriving his own family of their needs."
Remembering that this _was_ a law-enforcement officer she had scolded, Kim now said, "Please don't mind me, Miss Bender; my pregnancy has me cranky."
Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan, and the convict guest as well, had been tensely silent during this; now they began to relax a bit.
The softening tones made it easier for Lyra to apologize without losing face. "Well, I'm truly sorry for talking so condescendingly about Dr. Havens. It's just that streamcast reports about him, from the occasions when he attracted journalists' attention, did say he was coming into more conformity."
"It wasn't worth the trouble to contradict those reports," Alipang told her. "But as Kim said, the Party adds _nothing_ to our moral standards. It's _already_ established Christian doctrine that we're supposed to obey rulers, _unless_ they back us into a corner where our conscience is at stake."
Suddenly, Gerbil found the nerve to speak. "Excuse me, Dr. Havens, uh, sir, I know I don't know much, but, um, that is, I never heard those things about Biblicals. I always heard, you know, that they were greedy and hateful, and they wanted, you know, to overthrow any government that wasn't run by them."
"You heard wrong," Alipang said calmly. "You're obviously old enough to have been at least a young adult _before_ Christians began to be gagged and blocked in all media venues; but I still don't blame you for your ignorance, because you could easily have grown up in circles where the groupthink _wanted_ to believe the bad things about us that you just mentioned. So, if I may ask, what kind of circle _did_ you grow up in?"
Gerbil hung his head. "You might call it the lazy panhandling circle. I never knew my father, but my mother taught me how to game the system for all the free stuff I could get."
"Still," put in Lyra, "I give you credit for the good attitude you have _now_ toward working for a living."
"Part of the programming they did on me, Ranger. Now I'll never know if I _would_ have learned responsibility _without_ the brain adjustments. But my past history suggests not. I remember, back when I lived in Denver--you know, before it was Aztlan; I happened to move east about three years before the turnover. Anyway, what I remember is, when I was a full-time beggar in Denver, there was a city program to keep folks like me from freezing. They gave me a really good winter coat, and an insulated sleeping bag. Without even using the sleeping bag once, I sold it...for money to buy liquor."
"Young man," said Sylvia, "there's something else you should know about our faith: our God is known as the God of giving people another chance. You can make a new start here. Even if you _are_ programmed, make it an occasion for your _own_ will and feelings to start growing accustomed to civilized life."
"I hope I can do that, Citizen Lathrop."
"Call me Sylvia."
Copperfox
Well-known member
Gerbil's guilty secret remained a secret for the present. He admitted that his imprisonment, whose beginning predated the changing of penitentiaries into Self-Esteem Centers, had been for multiple counts of grand larceny and burglary; and admitted that in his thieving days, he had convinced himself that stealing for his own selfish enrichment somehow counted as "economic justice." But his part in murdering Wilson Kramer and Quinn Kramer did not come out.
Sylvia Lathrop unwittingly helped to prevent such a disclosure from occurring, for once Gerbil spoke of his former self-deception, the elderly saint began expounding relevant Scriptures to him, such as "Every man's way is right in his own eyes, but the Lord judges the heart." By the time the transplanted felon said goodnight and went to his new residence in the Feldons' house, he had been given a second banquet, a banquet of gospel truth for his spirit to digest.
Early the next morning, Alipang accompanied Gerbil to Peter Tomisaburo's house, to make introductions. This was a handy excuse for him to spend some time where he could watch Victor Tomisaburo. The boy was reading a book about electrical systems which his father had obtained somewhere; and although Alipang dared not ask leading questions relating to the tunnel incident, Victor did appear normal now. So it was on to the introduction, when Mr. Tomisaburo came down from doing something upstairs.
"Ohayo gozaimasu, Peter. As you may have heard, Sussex has finally received one of the conventional convicts who've been trickling into the Enclave. Jerry Sunderberg, meet Peter Tomisaburo, formerly a furnace repairman, and now a that-and-more-besides repairman. Peter, Jerry got to do some duct-and-vent work in prison, so he won't be clueless in that job you and Raoul are preparing to do for Aero-Aquatics."
The Japanese-American shook the convict's hand. "Okay, Jerry, welcome. As long as you do your best at the worksite, no one will pry into the reasons why you were in the slammer."
"Thank you, sir. People call me Gerbil. There were four inmates named Jerry in my cellblock, I mean counting me, and even one guard named Jerry, so they gave me this nickname. At least people don't mix me up with anyone else that way."
Peter looked at Alipang, then back at Gerbil. "Some men would find a nickname like that insulting. Do you _like_ being called Gerbil? Because I can just as easily call you Jerry."
Gerbil shuffled his feet. "Sir, I forfeited common courtesies by offending against the collective. It should be up to you to choose what you call me."
Alipang tapped Peter on the shoulder. "If you're his boss now, how about _ordering_ him to follow his own preference?"
"Good idea. Citizen Sunderberg, I _order_ you to take the initiative to decide for _yourself_ which way you'd rather be addressed. Our collectives here are of a type such that their operation is _helped_ by more independent decision-making."
"Okay, sir, if you say so, I guess I like Gerbil well enough."
"Then Gerbil it is. Come along to my home workshop; I want you to look over all my tools, and tell me if any of them are unfamiliar to you. Alipang, thanks for bringing him over."
Setting aside his book, Victor contrived, before heading off to some job of his own, to remark to Alipang: "Doctor Havens, I've been meaning to tell you. That sort of eyesight problem I was suffering the other day seems to have stopped."
"I'm glad to hear that. We can do without extra complications in our lives."
As soon as Alipang returned home, another of the complications appeared before his eyes, though a benign complication. Daffodil Ford had come by.
Sylvia Lathrop unwittingly helped to prevent such a disclosure from occurring, for once Gerbil spoke of his former self-deception, the elderly saint began expounding relevant Scriptures to him, such as "Every man's way is right in his own eyes, but the Lord judges the heart." By the time the transplanted felon said goodnight and went to his new residence in the Feldons' house, he had been given a second banquet, a banquet of gospel truth for his spirit to digest.
Early the next morning, Alipang accompanied Gerbil to Peter Tomisaburo's house, to make introductions. This was a handy excuse for him to spend some time where he could watch Victor Tomisaburo. The boy was reading a book about electrical systems which his father had obtained somewhere; and although Alipang dared not ask leading questions relating to the tunnel incident, Victor did appear normal now. So it was on to the introduction, when Mr. Tomisaburo came down from doing something upstairs.
"Ohayo gozaimasu, Peter. As you may have heard, Sussex has finally received one of the conventional convicts who've been trickling into the Enclave. Jerry Sunderberg, meet Peter Tomisaburo, formerly a furnace repairman, and now a that-and-more-besides repairman. Peter, Jerry got to do some duct-and-vent work in prison, so he won't be clueless in that job you and Raoul are preparing to do for Aero-Aquatics."
The Japanese-American shook the convict's hand. "Okay, Jerry, welcome. As long as you do your best at the worksite, no one will pry into the reasons why you were in the slammer."
"Thank you, sir. People call me Gerbil. There were four inmates named Jerry in my cellblock, I mean counting me, and even one guard named Jerry, so they gave me this nickname. At least people don't mix me up with anyone else that way."
Peter looked at Alipang, then back at Gerbil. "Some men would find a nickname like that insulting. Do you _like_ being called Gerbil? Because I can just as easily call you Jerry."
Gerbil shuffled his feet. "Sir, I forfeited common courtesies by offending against the collective. It should be up to you to choose what you call me."
Alipang tapped Peter on the shoulder. "If you're his boss now, how about _ordering_ him to follow his own preference?"
"Good idea. Citizen Sunderberg, I _order_ you to take the initiative to decide for _yourself_ which way you'd rather be addressed. Our collectives here are of a type such that their operation is _helped_ by more independent decision-making."
"Okay, sir, if you say so, I guess I like Gerbil well enough."
"Then Gerbil it is. Come along to my home workshop; I want you to look over all my tools, and tell me if any of them are unfamiliar to you. Alipang, thanks for bringing him over."
Setting aside his book, Victor contrived, before heading off to some job of his own, to remark to Alipang: "Doctor Havens, I've been meaning to tell you. That sort of eyesight problem I was suffering the other day seems to have stopped."
"I'm glad to hear that. We can do without extra complications in our lives."
As soon as Alipang returned home, another of the complications appeared before his eyes, though a benign complication. Daffodil Ford had come by.
Copperfox
Well-known member
At least the tall boy looked cheerful, rather than looking as if there were some new crisis. "Hi, Doctor Havens! You must have heard that I got to spend some time with your sister Chilena and her husband and kids."
"Yes, I heard that. Have they revived your acting bug?"
Daffodil rolled his eyes. "Hardly! My stint as a Churchbuster was enough of stardom for me. But because Chilena and Dan have so much more freedom of outside communication than exiles have, being with them caused me to hear about something that wouldn't have come to my attention in the usual course of things."
"Meaning what?"
"Not anything bad, at least nothing bad for your own family and friends. A couple that you knew in Virginia, the ones who more recently shared quarters with Chilena's family--"
Alipang tensed up a little, even though the boy had just said nothing bad had happened. "Are you talking about Summer and Evan Rand?"
"Yes, sir. Somebody in Mid-Atlantic District was doing a copycat of Nash Dockerty's Ku Klux Quaker game, and the Rands were in danger of being affected by the backlash; but Evan's union saw to it that they were kept safe, including their bioproducts."
"Then for once, a labor union dd something good. Go on!"
"It seems that the Rands _requested_ placement in the Enclave, the way the Spafford family did when they came out of Aztlan. And word is, they've been approved."
Alipang was taken off guard by this, but kept his composure. "I hope they won't have cause to regret coming inside the fence; but I'll sure be glad to speak to them again. Do you know any details of their transfer?"
"Only that it's to be within the next four days...and that since they're new, they'll probably be routed into the new sector."
"Well, since Yellowstone will BE part of the Enclave, we'll be able to see each other. Most likely they want Evan to help keep the construction workers functioning at the geothermal-plant sites. Now tell me, how's _your_workforce doing?"
"Out of my hair, and out of each other's. Bailey will now be organizing Equalityball in the North Dakota Sector, and Moonrose in the Nebraska Sector. Can't get in brawls with each other while they're that far apart. I put Mom in the easiest spot, South Dakota Sector. Since the greatest number of NON-exile children and teenagers in the Enclave live around Rapid City, Equalityball teams will form up there on the slightest encouragement, with Mom barely needing to do anything. Oh, glitches, I didn't want to say the word BARELY."
Alipang kept silent. He knew exactly what was bothering Daffodil: the fact that contact with the moviemakers working in the Enclave had led to Samantha Ford receiving, and accepting, an invitation to start appearing in erotic movies which would be scripted to suit her own tastes. Her roles would be simple enough in content that they could be shot right in and around the Enclave capital...meaning that the whole Enclave would know Daffodil's mother was doing things which made her son shudder with revulsion. "I don't want to talk about Mom right now," the boy concluded.
Now Alipang could open his mouth again. "So we won't talk about her. Am I to assume that you'll run Equalityball activities in Wyoming Sector henceforth?"
"Here, _and_ in Yellowstone Sector as soon as there _are_ kids there to play the game."
"All right, I wish you, shall I say _average_ luck?"
"Thanks. Hey, how soon do you expect your new baby? I saw Mrs. Havens, of course, but she didn't say how soon she thinks it'll be. And are you going to send her to where there's a physician?" Daffodil asked this question because he knew there was no M.D. permanently dwelling in Sussex. Alipang and his friend Sumerico, as the best-qualified paramedics among Grange volunteers living in Sussex, were as close to a hospital staff as the town had.
"I do want to take her by train down to Casper, but she keeps delaying, because she wants to help me keep up with our current load of dental patients. Thank God, Kim does endure pregnancy well; she gave birth to Brendan in the very _midst_ of the turmoil that was to lead up to our exile. If I had to attempt a forecast, I'd say our new baby will be coming two weeks from now; so maybe it isn't too late to drag her onto that train."
"Yes, I heard that. Have they revived your acting bug?"
Daffodil rolled his eyes. "Hardly! My stint as a Churchbuster was enough of stardom for me. But because Chilena and Dan have so much more freedom of outside communication than exiles have, being with them caused me to hear about something that wouldn't have come to my attention in the usual course of things."
"Meaning what?"
"Not anything bad, at least nothing bad for your own family and friends. A couple that you knew in Virginia, the ones who more recently shared quarters with Chilena's family--"
Alipang tensed up a little, even though the boy had just said nothing bad had happened. "Are you talking about Summer and Evan Rand?"
"Yes, sir. Somebody in Mid-Atlantic District was doing a copycat of Nash Dockerty's Ku Klux Quaker game, and the Rands were in danger of being affected by the backlash; but Evan's union saw to it that they were kept safe, including their bioproducts."
"Then for once, a labor union dd something good. Go on!"
"It seems that the Rands _requested_ placement in the Enclave, the way the Spafford family did when they came out of Aztlan. And word is, they've been approved."
Alipang was taken off guard by this, but kept his composure. "I hope they won't have cause to regret coming inside the fence; but I'll sure be glad to speak to them again. Do you know any details of their transfer?"
"Only that it's to be within the next four days...and that since they're new, they'll probably be routed into the new sector."
"Well, since Yellowstone will BE part of the Enclave, we'll be able to see each other. Most likely they want Evan to help keep the construction workers functioning at the geothermal-plant sites. Now tell me, how's _your_workforce doing?"
"Out of my hair, and out of each other's. Bailey will now be organizing Equalityball in the North Dakota Sector, and Moonrose in the Nebraska Sector. Can't get in brawls with each other while they're that far apart. I put Mom in the easiest spot, South Dakota Sector. Since the greatest number of NON-exile children and teenagers in the Enclave live around Rapid City, Equalityball teams will form up there on the slightest encouragement, with Mom barely needing to do anything. Oh, glitches, I didn't want to say the word BARELY."
Alipang kept silent. He knew exactly what was bothering Daffodil: the fact that contact with the moviemakers working in the Enclave had led to Samantha Ford receiving, and accepting, an invitation to start appearing in erotic movies which would be scripted to suit her own tastes. Her roles would be simple enough in content that they could be shot right in and around the Enclave capital...meaning that the whole Enclave would know Daffodil's mother was doing things which made her son shudder with revulsion. "I don't want to talk about Mom right now," the boy concluded.
Now Alipang could open his mouth again. "So we won't talk about her. Am I to assume that you'll run Equalityball activities in Wyoming Sector henceforth?"
"Here, _and_ in Yellowstone Sector as soon as there _are_ kids there to play the game."
"All right, I wish you, shall I say _average_ luck?"
"Thanks. Hey, how soon do you expect your new baby? I saw Mrs. Havens, of course, but she didn't say how soon she thinks it'll be. And are you going to send her to where there's a physician?" Daffodil asked this question because he knew there was no M.D. permanently dwelling in Sussex. Alipang and his friend Sumerico, as the best-qualified paramedics among Grange volunteers living in Sussex, were as close to a hospital staff as the town had.
"I do want to take her by train down to Casper, but she keeps delaying, because she wants to help me keep up with our current load of dental patients. Thank God, Kim does endure pregnancy well; she gave birth to Brendan in the very _midst_ of the turmoil that was to lead up to our exile. If I had to attempt a forecast, I'd say our new baby will be coming two weeks from now; so maybe it isn't too late to drag her onto that train."
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Cassie Magruder the dirigible pilot now appeared, saying, "Come on, mister diplomat, we've got a ways to go to get you to the southwest corner of the sector!"
Alipang laughed at himself. "I hadn't even thought about how you got here! Hello, Cassie, where's your airship?"
"Just the other side of those houses over there. Daffy wanted to stop and see you, but now we have to get airborne again. Even such a loose assignment as he has from the State Department requires a _little_ bit of accountability."
"That's right," said Daffodil. "Moonrose and Bailey were _supposed_ to have given a public lecture about Equalityball down in the southwest corner, but keeping them apart after their fight scragged that up. As long as _somebody_ covers that area, it'll be all right; and I'd rather that those 'qualified' diplomats just kept out of my way."
Soon the Havens family was waving goodbye to Daffodil. Alipang realized after the fact that the boy had not said anything about Harmony Havens. Their next meeting would be soon enough to try to feel out whether Daffodil's crush on Alipang's baby sister was fading.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Two hours later, there was another aerial visit: a twin-engine fixed-wing airplane, of a type formerly used by regional commuter airlines, touched down on the modest airstrip in Sussex. Piloting it were Texas Rangers Tom Noritaka and Uriel Morales; and the passengers were the Yang family--also intending a passing visit on the way to someplace else. A young non-exile man who worked at the small federal office in town, having taken the radio call of the plane's approach, trotted over to the Havens house to announce the visit. Alipang made for the airstrip at a fast run.
The Yangs had emerged from the aircraft by the time Alipang, followed by Esperanza, reached the scene. As soon as Lieutenant-Colonel Yang sighted Alipang, he called out, "Brother! Brother in Christ!" Laughing with delight, Alipang flung his arms around the taller man and hugged him hard--then jumped backward, with fists raised but a grin on his face.
"Let me show you how well I've studied!"
Yang returned the grin, and at once the two men began a bout of non-contact sparring. The watching Texas Rangers knew enough about martial arts to understand that it was a very even match, with a high quality of technique on both sides. Yang Sung-Kuo and Alipang kept up a fast pace, and kept it up longer than ordinary men would have been able to continue. Suddenly Alipang, who had been mostly sparring at close range with very little kicking, fell back a bit--and then went into a cartwheel right in front of Yang, a cartwheel that brought one of his feet up toward Yang's head. The Lieutenant-Colonel jerked his head back barely in time to have evaded the impact if it had been a real attack with force; then he stooped to catch hold of that arm of Alipang's which was trailing in the cartwheel. Before Alipang could return to his feet, a strong tug on the caught arm pulled the upper half of his body toward a back-stepping Yang, and the warrior-dentist was dropped flat on his back with a whuff.
"Papa!" cried Esperanza. "Are you hurt?"
Alipang did a kip-up and stood, mainly to reassure his little girl. "I'm fine, Essie! I just couldn't pass up the chance to show Mr. Yang that I'd been working on the things he taught me last year."
"And your father did very well," said Yang to Esperanza. "That cartwheel kick is _designed_ to be a surprise, rarely used; the idea is that the impact of your foot hitting the opponent's head lets you reverse your cartwheel and stand back up where you started." Turning to Alipang: "And the kick _would_ have landed on me, if I hadn't remembered that it was one of the techniques I gave you to learn. But now, let me introduce my wife and daughters, after which I want to have a talk about _spiritual_ warfare."
Alipang hugged his Chinese friend once more. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that you'll be living here in Sussex?"
"I wanted to, but my supervisors wanted me in a more populated place." Yang did not say openly that the point was for him to be where there were _armed_ protectors, chiefly the Texas contingent. "But I'll be able to get away with frequent visits up here, I'm sure." Then came the formal introduction of Mrs. Yang and the three daughters.
"I'm looking forward to meeting Mrs. Havens," Tupsim remarked.
"You'll meet two for the price of one," replied Alipang. "Kim's close to giving birth to our fourth child."
Acquaintance-making went smoothly at the Havens house. Rangers Noritaka and Morales assured Alipang that they could allow a short layover; so Alipang conducted an impromptu Bible study for the now-Christianized Yang family, expounding on the salvation messages in the first half of Ephesians. He also found time to talk about the movie production in progress within the Enclave. Plenty remained to be talked about another day; but before the Yangs had to be on their way again, Alipang and Kim had a most rewarding and refreshing prayer time with them.
Alipang laughed at himself. "I hadn't even thought about how you got here! Hello, Cassie, where's your airship?"
"Just the other side of those houses over there. Daffy wanted to stop and see you, but now we have to get airborne again. Even such a loose assignment as he has from the State Department requires a _little_ bit of accountability."
"That's right," said Daffodil. "Moonrose and Bailey were _supposed_ to have given a public lecture about Equalityball down in the southwest corner, but keeping them apart after their fight scragged that up. As long as _somebody_ covers that area, it'll be all right; and I'd rather that those 'qualified' diplomats just kept out of my way."
Soon the Havens family was waving goodbye to Daffodil. Alipang realized after the fact that the boy had not said anything about Harmony Havens. Their next meeting would be soon enough to try to feel out whether Daffodil's crush on Alipang's baby sister was fading.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Two hours later, there was another aerial visit: a twin-engine fixed-wing airplane, of a type formerly used by regional commuter airlines, touched down on the modest airstrip in Sussex. Piloting it were Texas Rangers Tom Noritaka and Uriel Morales; and the passengers were the Yang family--also intending a passing visit on the way to someplace else. A young non-exile man who worked at the small federal office in town, having taken the radio call of the plane's approach, trotted over to the Havens house to announce the visit. Alipang made for the airstrip at a fast run.
The Yangs had emerged from the aircraft by the time Alipang, followed by Esperanza, reached the scene. As soon as Lieutenant-Colonel Yang sighted Alipang, he called out, "Brother! Brother in Christ!" Laughing with delight, Alipang flung his arms around the taller man and hugged him hard--then jumped backward, with fists raised but a grin on his face.
"Let me show you how well I've studied!"
Yang returned the grin, and at once the two men began a bout of non-contact sparring. The watching Texas Rangers knew enough about martial arts to understand that it was a very even match, with a high quality of technique on both sides. Yang Sung-Kuo and Alipang kept up a fast pace, and kept it up longer than ordinary men would have been able to continue. Suddenly Alipang, who had been mostly sparring at close range with very little kicking, fell back a bit--and then went into a cartwheel right in front of Yang, a cartwheel that brought one of his feet up toward Yang's head. The Lieutenant-Colonel jerked his head back barely in time to have evaded the impact if it had been a real attack with force; then he stooped to catch hold of that arm of Alipang's which was trailing in the cartwheel. Before Alipang could return to his feet, a strong tug on the caught arm pulled the upper half of his body toward a back-stepping Yang, and the warrior-dentist was dropped flat on his back with a whuff.
"Papa!" cried Esperanza. "Are you hurt?"
Alipang did a kip-up and stood, mainly to reassure his little girl. "I'm fine, Essie! I just couldn't pass up the chance to show Mr. Yang that I'd been working on the things he taught me last year."
"And your father did very well," said Yang to Esperanza. "That cartwheel kick is _designed_ to be a surprise, rarely used; the idea is that the impact of your foot hitting the opponent's head lets you reverse your cartwheel and stand back up where you started." Turning to Alipang: "And the kick _would_ have landed on me, if I hadn't remembered that it was one of the techniques I gave you to learn. But now, let me introduce my wife and daughters, after which I want to have a talk about _spiritual_ warfare."
Alipang hugged his Chinese friend once more. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that you'll be living here in Sussex?"
"I wanted to, but my supervisors wanted me in a more populated place." Yang did not say openly that the point was for him to be where there were _armed_ protectors, chiefly the Texas contingent. "But I'll be able to get away with frequent visits up here, I'm sure." Then came the formal introduction of Mrs. Yang and the three daughters.
"I'm looking forward to meeting Mrs. Havens," Tupsim remarked.
"You'll meet two for the price of one," replied Alipang. "Kim's close to giving birth to our fourth child."
Acquaintance-making went smoothly at the Havens house. Rangers Noritaka and Morales assured Alipang that they could allow a short layover; so Alipang conducted an impromptu Bible study for the now-Christianized Yang family, expounding on the salvation messages in the first half of Ephesians. He also found time to talk about the movie production in progress within the Enclave. Plenty remained to be talked about another day; but before the Yangs had to be on their way again, Alipang and Kim had a most rewarding and refreshing prayer time with them.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Chapter 100: The Imam and the Iraq Veteran
At the time they landed in Rapid City, Matti, Brendan and Josiah were expecting to perform their first demonstration of Matti's new ultrasound-scanning unit in Washington. But the Enclave triumvirate received word to postpone the East Coast trip due to some unexpected social disturbance occurring in the Mid-Atlantic Federal District. In the idle time, Brendan received some instruction by Matti in the workings of the Finnish scientist's medical-technology innovation. Josiah, already familiar with the scanner, obtained permission to do police-monitored online browsing of information on people inside the reservation.
The former U.S. Army soldier dared not say openly that he was interested in Daffodil Ford, much less admit that he knew Daffodil was his biological son by means of the gene-theft which had been done long ago without Josiah's knowledge. But through supposedly random browsing, the Christian warrior learned plenty of interesting facts--such as the way the regime had settled the Amish in Wyoming Sector, Quakers in North Dakota Sector, and Mennonites in Nebraska Sector, with a deliberate purpose of letting each group stay viable so that it could exert a force for submissiveness on the other Christians around them.
No one would take exception to his reading about the relatively-famous Alipang Havens, whom Josiah now knew to be an old school friend of Brendan. Josiah was intrigued to discover that, in the Havens family's first weeks of internal exile, Alipang had used all his force of personality to _dissuade_ fellow captives from suicidal escape attempts; but more recently, the Filipino-American had actually dared to _fight_ some of the Campaign Against Hate enforcers, had _beaten_ them, and had gotten away with it--because, it seemed, the man understood how to choose his battles.
Happily, reading about Alipang led to seeing facts about Daffodil also. Thus did Josiah come to watch with amusement a video recording of his son acting as Vladimir Turgenev in Trip Conklin's "Churchbusters" show. And he learned how Daffodil, despite the current bias against males in the State Department, had come to be placed in authority over _three_ adult women, one of them Daffodil's own mother. This allowed Josiah to feel a flicker of paternal pride, regardless of the silliness of teaching Equalityball as a supposed gesture of socio-political reconciliation. But it was a sour taste in the former soldier's mouth to find out that Samantha Ford, his co-parent in the begetting of Daffodil, had not thought it enough _merely_ to try to rob the boy of all normal masculinity; she was now insisting on being an "exotic" performer, destroying any trace Daffodil might still have of enjoying normal _parenting_ from at least one parent.
Heavenly Father, Josiah silently prayed, please, please allow this new son of mine to _escape_ from this moral sewer, whether with me or in some other way. Give him the chance to grow up as a man who is _allowed_ to be a man.
On the second morning after the landing in Rapid City, Continental Marshal Gorshkovskaya, who had returned to the Diversity States capital, sent word to the Enclave administration that President Trevette had changed the plan for demonstrating the Finnish medical-imagery device. The Distribution Undersecretary relayed this to the three travellers. Now they were to fly to Detroit, inside the Great Lakes Islamic Cantonment, to demonstrate their device at Harun Fuad Hospital, formerly Henry Ford Hospital. This news prodded Josiah's mind into trying to recall something he had once heard about the Cantonment--something he had picked up from the portions of intelligence that agents like Brendan Hyland had shared with him before, in Uganda.
It was only after the three men and their gear were loaded onto a new plane, and after they had reached the airspace above Wisconsin where Josiah had grown up, that the Iraqi Freedom veteran remembered what it was he was trying to recall. A gesture from him caused Brendan and Matti to don devices which they had been allowed to bring along due to the importance of the healthcare technology they were offering to America. These devices looked like a cross between radio headsets and breathing masks. They allowed the three men to talk to each other through an encrypted and frequency-shifting signal, while preventing the physical sound of their voices from being heard by any uninvited ears.
"Brendan," Josiah began, "will you please remind me who is the Imam-Governor of the Great Lakes Cantonment?"
"His name is Bassem ibn-Rashid al-Farag."
"Drat the luck! Do you know if he's the same one who used to lead a mosque in New York City called Crescent of Purity?"
"That's the man, all right. Our file on him tells that he had contacts with a Sharia-law activist group using the ridiculous name of God's Youth for Peace."
"Oh! Of course!" Matti suddenly exclaimed. "Josiah, when I read up on you before deciding if I wanted you on my team, I saw the story of what happened at the private college where you were simultaneously keeping the grounds and taking pre-medical courses in autumn of 2008. There were faculty members there who, though not Muslims themselves, were friendly both to G.Y.P. and to Crescent of Purity. And you ran afoul of the lot of them!"
"I missed out on that story," Brendan confessed. "So many secret agents, so little time. Josiah, what are you and Matti talking about?"
"There was a freshman on campus," Josiah told him; "a moderate Muslim named Walid Omar. He stuck out like a _healthy_ thumb in some classroom discussions. Teachers who were anti-Jewish bigots expected Walid, as a Muslim, to join in calling for the destruction of Israel; but instead, he argued that the Arab nations should really make peace with the Israelis. The thanks he got for being a voice of reason was to be assaulted, with steel pipes, by two thugs from G.Y.P. They would have killed him if I hadn't persuaded them otherwise."
Matti half-laughed. "What Corporal Redfern means is that he singlehandedly smashed the thugs into the pavement, and saved Mr. Omar's life."
"Good for you, G.I. Josiah!" said Brendan. "I'd have done the same in your place."
"And with a college administration and campus police force devoted to political correctness," muttered Josiah, "you would've gotten _arrested_ for doing the _right_ thing, charged with an imaginary 'racial hate crime,' same as I was."
"Maybe I'm lucky I was still in high school that autumn."
"At least not all my luck was bad," remarked Josiah. "My Melody, whom I had just begun dating at that time, went on believing in me until I was proven innocent, and picked up with me where we left off as soon as I was let out of jail. So I got to marry her and have the happy family life I've had. But Imam Al-Farag was one of the loudmouths trying to have me lynched for so-called Islamophobia--because I protected a _Muslim_ who used to attend his _own_ mosque in New York! And _that's_ the creep who's in charge of the district we're coming to now! You can bet he hasn't forgotten me."
"Don't worry," Matti told him. "Remember, the Fairness Party Presidium requires the Cantonment to be routinely chemtrailed with pacifying vapors, enough to suppress _most_ of the violent impulses of the more belligerent residents there. Besides, even the greatest extremists in the district's Islamist leadership know that they are vulnerable to retaliation if they harm persons coming to them by the order of President Trevette."
"And," said Brendan, "I have the means to call for help--for some cavalry to be ready to ride to the rescue."
"Then unless it still is possible to leave me out of the visit, you'd better alert that cavalry now," Josiah replied; "because there are people in this world who cherish a grudge beyond all bounds of sanity."
"We can't get any other technician at this point who knows the gear well enough to assist me," said Matti; "and our plans _require_ us to gain enough goodwill from the Trevette regime so we can operate freely in the Western Enclave. Therefore, if they want us to exhibit the ultrasound unit in Detroit, that's what we do. This is a risk we have to take, Josiah; think of it as a risk you're taking in return for the chance to get to know your son Daffodil."
At the time they landed in Rapid City, Matti, Brendan and Josiah were expecting to perform their first demonstration of Matti's new ultrasound-scanning unit in Washington. But the Enclave triumvirate received word to postpone the East Coast trip due to some unexpected social disturbance occurring in the Mid-Atlantic Federal District. In the idle time, Brendan received some instruction by Matti in the workings of the Finnish scientist's medical-technology innovation. Josiah, already familiar with the scanner, obtained permission to do police-monitored online browsing of information on people inside the reservation.
The former U.S. Army soldier dared not say openly that he was interested in Daffodil Ford, much less admit that he knew Daffodil was his biological son by means of the gene-theft which had been done long ago without Josiah's knowledge. But through supposedly random browsing, the Christian warrior learned plenty of interesting facts--such as the way the regime had settled the Amish in Wyoming Sector, Quakers in North Dakota Sector, and Mennonites in Nebraska Sector, with a deliberate purpose of letting each group stay viable so that it could exert a force for submissiveness on the other Christians around them.
No one would take exception to his reading about the relatively-famous Alipang Havens, whom Josiah now knew to be an old school friend of Brendan. Josiah was intrigued to discover that, in the Havens family's first weeks of internal exile, Alipang had used all his force of personality to _dissuade_ fellow captives from suicidal escape attempts; but more recently, the Filipino-American had actually dared to _fight_ some of the Campaign Against Hate enforcers, had _beaten_ them, and had gotten away with it--because, it seemed, the man understood how to choose his battles.
Happily, reading about Alipang led to seeing facts about Daffodil also. Thus did Josiah come to watch with amusement a video recording of his son acting as Vladimir Turgenev in Trip Conklin's "Churchbusters" show. And he learned how Daffodil, despite the current bias against males in the State Department, had come to be placed in authority over _three_ adult women, one of them Daffodil's own mother. This allowed Josiah to feel a flicker of paternal pride, regardless of the silliness of teaching Equalityball as a supposed gesture of socio-political reconciliation. But it was a sour taste in the former soldier's mouth to find out that Samantha Ford, his co-parent in the begetting of Daffodil, had not thought it enough _merely_ to try to rob the boy of all normal masculinity; she was now insisting on being an "exotic" performer, destroying any trace Daffodil might still have of enjoying normal _parenting_ from at least one parent.
Heavenly Father, Josiah silently prayed, please, please allow this new son of mine to _escape_ from this moral sewer, whether with me or in some other way. Give him the chance to grow up as a man who is _allowed_ to be a man.
On the second morning after the landing in Rapid City, Continental Marshal Gorshkovskaya, who had returned to the Diversity States capital, sent word to the Enclave administration that President Trevette had changed the plan for demonstrating the Finnish medical-imagery device. The Distribution Undersecretary relayed this to the three travellers. Now they were to fly to Detroit, inside the Great Lakes Islamic Cantonment, to demonstrate their device at Harun Fuad Hospital, formerly Henry Ford Hospital. This news prodded Josiah's mind into trying to recall something he had once heard about the Cantonment--something he had picked up from the portions of intelligence that agents like Brendan Hyland had shared with him before, in Uganda.
It was only after the three men and their gear were loaded onto a new plane, and after they had reached the airspace above Wisconsin where Josiah had grown up, that the Iraqi Freedom veteran remembered what it was he was trying to recall. A gesture from him caused Brendan and Matti to don devices which they had been allowed to bring along due to the importance of the healthcare technology they were offering to America. These devices looked like a cross between radio headsets and breathing masks. They allowed the three men to talk to each other through an encrypted and frequency-shifting signal, while preventing the physical sound of their voices from being heard by any uninvited ears.
"Brendan," Josiah began, "will you please remind me who is the Imam-Governor of the Great Lakes Cantonment?"
"His name is Bassem ibn-Rashid al-Farag."
"Drat the luck! Do you know if he's the same one who used to lead a mosque in New York City called Crescent of Purity?"
"That's the man, all right. Our file on him tells that he had contacts with a Sharia-law activist group using the ridiculous name of God's Youth for Peace."
"Oh! Of course!" Matti suddenly exclaimed. "Josiah, when I read up on you before deciding if I wanted you on my team, I saw the story of what happened at the private college where you were simultaneously keeping the grounds and taking pre-medical courses in autumn of 2008. There were faculty members there who, though not Muslims themselves, were friendly both to G.Y.P. and to Crescent of Purity. And you ran afoul of the lot of them!"
"I missed out on that story," Brendan confessed. "So many secret agents, so little time. Josiah, what are you and Matti talking about?"
"There was a freshman on campus," Josiah told him; "a moderate Muslim named Walid Omar. He stuck out like a _healthy_ thumb in some classroom discussions. Teachers who were anti-Jewish bigots expected Walid, as a Muslim, to join in calling for the destruction of Israel; but instead, he argued that the Arab nations should really make peace with the Israelis. The thanks he got for being a voice of reason was to be assaulted, with steel pipes, by two thugs from G.Y.P. They would have killed him if I hadn't persuaded them otherwise."
Matti half-laughed. "What Corporal Redfern means is that he singlehandedly smashed the thugs into the pavement, and saved Mr. Omar's life."
"Good for you, G.I. Josiah!" said Brendan. "I'd have done the same in your place."
"And with a college administration and campus police force devoted to political correctness," muttered Josiah, "you would've gotten _arrested_ for doing the _right_ thing, charged with an imaginary 'racial hate crime,' same as I was."
"Maybe I'm lucky I was still in high school that autumn."
"At least not all my luck was bad," remarked Josiah. "My Melody, whom I had just begun dating at that time, went on believing in me until I was proven innocent, and picked up with me where we left off as soon as I was let out of jail. So I got to marry her and have the happy family life I've had. But Imam Al-Farag was one of the loudmouths trying to have me lynched for so-called Islamophobia--because I protected a _Muslim_ who used to attend his _own_ mosque in New York! And _that's_ the creep who's in charge of the district we're coming to now! You can bet he hasn't forgotten me."
"Don't worry," Matti told him. "Remember, the Fairness Party Presidium requires the Cantonment to be routinely chemtrailed with pacifying vapors, enough to suppress _most_ of the violent impulses of the more belligerent residents there. Besides, even the greatest extremists in the district's Islamist leadership know that they are vulnerable to retaliation if they harm persons coming to them by the order of President Trevette."
"And," said Brendan, "I have the means to call for help--for some cavalry to be ready to ride to the rescue."
"Then unless it still is possible to leave me out of the visit, you'd better alert that cavalry now," Josiah replied; "because there are people in this world who cherish a grudge beyond all bounds of sanity."
"We can't get any other technician at this point who knows the gear well enough to assist me," said Matti; "and our plans _require_ us to gain enough goodwill from the Trevette regime so we can operate freely in the Western Enclave. Therefore, if they want us to exhibit the ultrasound unit in Detroit, that's what we do. This is a risk we have to take, Josiah; think of it as a risk you're taking in return for the chance to get to know your son Daffodil."
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Being unable either to back out of this visit or to exercise any control over what the locals would do, Josiah committed the entire matter to Jesus, and looked for something else to occupy his mind for the remaining minutes before landing. As a courtesy to his party, there was a user-friendly holographic display of air traffic available to them. Looking at this, then touching a control to widen the coverage area and looking again, he was surprised at what he saw, or didn't see.
"Brendan, you've kept in the loop more than I have about the Diversity States. I know that they decreased the overall _amount_ of travel that civilians were allowed to do, and moreover changed the _proportions_ in the travel they did allow; that is, a greater emphasis on mag-lev trains and other ground transportation vice aircraft, because that way they could more frequently run intrusive, harassing document checks on everybody. But can they have really cut down air travel _this_ much? I only see three other flights _anywhere_ in the whole airspace of the Cantonment."
The Marine Corps veteran moved up alongside the Army veteran, looked at the holographic animation, looked at something on a tablet computer, and then pointed at the aircraft images one after another. "The big one is a Texas Tu-95, captained by Greg Jessup; you remember I've mentioned him before. That is our cavalry; it's ostensibly on a routine trans-continental patrol, but it's really carrying an arsenal of high-tech non-lethal crowd-control ordnance that it can shower down on our location if our telemetry and other indicators show us to be in trouble."
"I suppose their arsenal includes the high-grade pacifying gas that we three were immunized against before we took off."
"Yes, as well as ultrasonic influence devices, and adhesive-barrier bomblets to make it impossible for a mob to run across and get at us. The other two tracks are both federal chemtrail planes, same as they used in the Enclave till recently, spreading the routine lithium tranquilizer."
"Does the government consider it _that_ likely that the Muslim population is going to be angry at us?" Matti interjected.
"Their part isn't because of us," replied Brendan. "There's going to be a televised speech today, by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court; IT might get the locals into a lather if they weren't freshly tranked. Do you guys know anything about Chief Justice Govinda?"
"Not a thing," admitted Matti.
Josiah looked thoughtful. "Isn't he that boy, eleven years old or so, who was taken out of a mental hospital and hustled into politics?"
"That's the one. He has an extreme psychotic delusion, that he can change into animals at will--or as he puts it, that he already IS all of them at once. Presenting him as a leadership figure could offend practically _anybody_ who cares about anything like a coherent way of thinking."
"I'm a little surprised that the Cantonment residents even _will_ hear him speak," said Matti. "Aren't they completely isolated from the internet, apart from their top leaders?"
"From the _regular_ internet," Brendan clarified. "They've got a thing called ShariaNet, working only inside their territory, which is even more tightly supervised than the rest of American cyberspace. Used only for Islamic teaching including the Arabic language, a bit of cultural stuff, and controlled news reports. But old-style through-the air broadcasting is allowed by their Imams' Council, subject of course to similar controls. The Party allows them a few specified frequencies, which no one but them uses."
"Is that only radio?" asked Josiah. "Or did they decide that television was permissible after all?" He knew that many of the strict Islamists in the Cantonment held by the doctrine that _any_ visual representation of people was the same as idolatry.
"The Party wouldn't _permit_ them to bar visual media entirely. So your friend Imam Al-Farag devised a face-saving compromise fatwa. He declared that, compared with modern holography, a two-dimensional television image of a person in black and white was sufficiently _unlike_ the real person that, as long as the _intent_ of using the image was legitimately informational, it didn't count as an idol. I read the fatwa in the original Arabic; pretty impressive, really. He cited the fact that the ancient Greeks _painted_ their statues, thus emphasizing color as playing a role in idol-making."
"An interesting line of reasoning," remarked Matti. "But we've wandered away from Josiah's original question. Why _are_ there so few aircraft over the Great Lakes Cantonment?"
"It's because there are absolutely NO aircraft of any kind _based_ inside this district; the President forbids it. As far as I can determine, this prohibition exists because of how _much_ control the Cantonment Imams' Council has been given over _water_ traffic. Apart from some Canadian patrol vessels which stay in the northern areas, the _only_ water craft anywhere on the Great Lakes which carry weapons are boats and hovercraft subordinated to the Purity Warriors. The Cantonment Imams are nominally members of the Fairness Party; but everyone knows that they feel more kinship with the merchant sailors and visitors who come in from the Caliphates via the Saint Lawrence Seaway. The Canadians won't let any foreigners bring armaments to the Great Lakes by water; but the Trevette regime worries that, if the Cantonment authorities had any aircraft under _their_ control, they might permit some untranquilized fanatics to borrow the weapons usually mounted on the police boats, refit them onto aircraft, and go strafe someone. As long as the locals don't _have_ any air transport of their own, and as long as the Transport Police keep a close guard on the few Atmosfleet planes that ever land in Detroit, that threat is checkmated."
Just then, their pilot announced that they were starting their landing descent.
"Brendan, you've kept in the loop more than I have about the Diversity States. I know that they decreased the overall _amount_ of travel that civilians were allowed to do, and moreover changed the _proportions_ in the travel they did allow; that is, a greater emphasis on mag-lev trains and other ground transportation vice aircraft, because that way they could more frequently run intrusive, harassing document checks on everybody. But can they have really cut down air travel _this_ much? I only see three other flights _anywhere_ in the whole airspace of the Cantonment."
The Marine Corps veteran moved up alongside the Army veteran, looked at the holographic animation, looked at something on a tablet computer, and then pointed at the aircraft images one after another. "The big one is a Texas Tu-95, captained by Greg Jessup; you remember I've mentioned him before. That is our cavalry; it's ostensibly on a routine trans-continental patrol, but it's really carrying an arsenal of high-tech non-lethal crowd-control ordnance that it can shower down on our location if our telemetry and other indicators show us to be in trouble."
"I suppose their arsenal includes the high-grade pacifying gas that we three were immunized against before we took off."
"Yes, as well as ultrasonic influence devices, and adhesive-barrier bomblets to make it impossible for a mob to run across and get at us. The other two tracks are both federal chemtrail planes, same as they used in the Enclave till recently, spreading the routine lithium tranquilizer."
"Does the government consider it _that_ likely that the Muslim population is going to be angry at us?" Matti interjected.
"Their part isn't because of us," replied Brendan. "There's going to be a televised speech today, by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court; IT might get the locals into a lather if they weren't freshly tranked. Do you guys know anything about Chief Justice Govinda?"
"Not a thing," admitted Matti.
Josiah looked thoughtful. "Isn't he that boy, eleven years old or so, who was taken out of a mental hospital and hustled into politics?"
"That's the one. He has an extreme psychotic delusion, that he can change into animals at will--or as he puts it, that he already IS all of them at once. Presenting him as a leadership figure could offend practically _anybody_ who cares about anything like a coherent way of thinking."
"I'm a little surprised that the Cantonment residents even _will_ hear him speak," said Matti. "Aren't they completely isolated from the internet, apart from their top leaders?"
"From the _regular_ internet," Brendan clarified. "They've got a thing called ShariaNet, working only inside their territory, which is even more tightly supervised than the rest of American cyberspace. Used only for Islamic teaching including the Arabic language, a bit of cultural stuff, and controlled news reports. But old-style through-the air broadcasting is allowed by their Imams' Council, subject of course to similar controls. The Party allows them a few specified frequencies, which no one but them uses."
"Is that only radio?" asked Josiah. "Or did they decide that television was permissible after all?" He knew that many of the strict Islamists in the Cantonment held by the doctrine that _any_ visual representation of people was the same as idolatry.
"The Party wouldn't _permit_ them to bar visual media entirely. So your friend Imam Al-Farag devised a face-saving compromise fatwa. He declared that, compared with modern holography, a two-dimensional television image of a person in black and white was sufficiently _unlike_ the real person that, as long as the _intent_ of using the image was legitimately informational, it didn't count as an idol. I read the fatwa in the original Arabic; pretty impressive, really. He cited the fact that the ancient Greeks _painted_ their statues, thus emphasizing color as playing a role in idol-making."
"An interesting line of reasoning," remarked Matti. "But we've wandered away from Josiah's original question. Why _are_ there so few aircraft over the Great Lakes Cantonment?"
"It's because there are absolutely NO aircraft of any kind _based_ inside this district; the President forbids it. As far as I can determine, this prohibition exists because of how _much_ control the Cantonment Imams' Council has been given over _water_ traffic. Apart from some Canadian patrol vessels which stay in the northern areas, the _only_ water craft anywhere on the Great Lakes which carry weapons are boats and hovercraft subordinated to the Purity Warriors. The Cantonment Imams are nominally members of the Fairness Party; but everyone knows that they feel more kinship with the merchant sailors and visitors who come in from the Caliphates via the Saint Lawrence Seaway. The Canadians won't let any foreigners bring armaments to the Great Lakes by water; but the Trevette regime worries that, if the Cantonment authorities had any aircraft under _their_ control, they might permit some untranquilized fanatics to borrow the weapons usually mounted on the police boats, refit them onto aircraft, and go strafe someone. As long as the locals don't _have_ any air transport of their own, and as long as the Transport Police keep a close guard on the few Atmosfleet planes that ever land in Detroit, that threat is checkmated."
Just then, their pilot announced that they were starting their landing descent.
Copperfox
Well-known member
The landing approach was simple enough, since Detroit was a ghost town where air traffic was concerned. Once on the ground, three armed Commerce Inspectors got off the plane with the medical-technology party, and stood watch as a work detail of locals unloaded Matti Siermaala's equipment. These workers, as the travellers had already been informed, were all under deep mental conditioning never to commit any abuses of their duty as freight handlers.
The ultrasound scanner, and smaller items of the Professor's gear, were loaded onto an old-fashioned truck without mishap. Josiah himself drove the truck, sharing the cab with one of the conditioned workers who would make sure he knew which part of the destination site to pull up to. Brendan and Matti would ride in the back with the precious equipment. The Commerce Inspectors, armed with flechette pistols like Josiah's, and with flame guns like those carried by Transport Police, would be staying at the nearly-empty airport to guard the plane; but Matti, Josiah and Brendan all carried sidearms, and anyway, they were _supposed_ to be welcome guests in Detroit, even if they were infidels.
Their destination was the former Henry Ford Hospital, which the Imams' Council had renamed the Harun Fuad Hospital. When they parked the truck, they were met by more conditioned workers who placed their devices on a solar-powered cart to take it inside the main building. Brendan knew that Greg Jessup's flight crew, flying orbit in the air above them, would be keeping sensors locked onto the truck, to make sure it was not tampered with. Crossing a grassy quadrangle, they saw a man wearing what might have been a replica of the traditional attire of a physician from the medieval heyday of culture in Baghdad, complete with a turban. Behind the physician--for the visitors had been told to expect one of the hospital's top doctors to greet them--stood a woman buried inside a burka, unmoving and silent.
When Matti, Brendan and Josiah came within four meters of the doctor, the woman stepped back several paces. The doctor, bowing, addressed Brendan in Arabic: "Peace to you! I am told that you speak the language of the Prophet."
Brendan nodded. "If you can pardon my accent."
"I can pardon it readily; for what is publicly available of your old military record attests that you conducted yourself honorably when you served in Afghanistan. Please believe me that my hospital colleagues and I are not like the men you fought in that land. For instance--" he gestured to the woman behind him; "--my wife here is not required to wear the burka at _all_ times, even in public; we do have _some_ flexibility about attire. She wears it now merely to lend some formality to our first meeting. Gazbiyya, please come stand beside me." The woman did as bidden. Brendan and Josiah both had experience in moving among Muslim crowds and trying to guess by body language the intentions of persons whose faces they could not see; and it seemed to both of them that the unseen woman inside the fortress of cloth was at her ease, not worried about anything.
The woman took control of the easily-maneuvered cart. Her husband dismissed the workers, and switched to speaking English. "Welcome to Harun Fuad Hospital! I am Hassan Tamir, Chief of Internal Medicine. My wife, Gazbiyya, is one of the fifteen female M.D.'s authorized to practice medicine in the Cantonment. She, naturally, treats and examines only female and child patients. She will be with us as you demonstrate your ultrasound scanner, because it is a female patient who chances to be the handiest suitable subject for the scanning, as she has more than one condition to be studied. Let us go indoors now."
In the front lobby, the three travellers remained close to the cart. The female Doctor Tamir casually removed her burka and hung it up like a jacket, revealing herself to be a blonde woman in her forties, clad in a white lab coat and baggy trousers: an American proselyte who had assumed an Islamic first name, rather than someone from a traditionally Islamic nation. In a moment, she produced a hijab and her blonde hair disappeared beneath it; then she strode away to an elevator, on her way to prepare the patient who was now the test subject. The male Doctor Tamir went and spoke softly in Arabic to a man at a desk, then spoke to someone else by telephone. From what Brendan could overhear, it was ordinary medical talk.
While Brendan continued listening inconspicuously to the conversations, Matti and Josiah turned their attention to a large television set placed at one end of the lobby. There, in black and white, was the image of a deranged boy wearing a Supreme Court robe sized to fit him. This boy was in the middle of trying to sound grown up, as he orated grandly about the need to abolish species bigotry. One of Tim Govinda's policy aims in this connection was to encourage animals to bring lawsuits before the courts of the nation--including against other animals--and to urge human plaintiffs to employ animals as their attorneys.
Half a dozen Arab men were watching the speech, seeming amused by it. One glanced over at the three outsiders, but without evident hostility. What put Josiah and Matti on the alert was when Chief Justice Govinda began calling for the national ban on meat-eating to be extended to the Western Enclave and the Great Lakes Cantonment, the only parts of the Diversity States currently exempted from forced veganism. The three travellers were aware that the Muslims here, like the internal exiles on the Judeo-Christian reservation, were allowed to raise and butcher livestock. The Muslims had the added option of shopping for meat in Canada. Being able to enjoy a complete halal diet was one of the accommodations that made the Muslim Cantonment's population happy to stay here, although they _weren't_ fenced in. But what if this benefit were taken away from them by the efforts of an idiot child playing at being a judge?
The eldest of the Arab viewers, with a voice which didn't sound angry, told the others in English: "That boy is right about his being many animals at once. He's a pig, a dog, a monkey, a lizard, a snake, a toad, and a weasel!" This brought laughter from his companions.
Josiah whispered to Matti, "They don't look like rioting. So far, so good."
The ultrasound scanner, and smaller items of the Professor's gear, were loaded onto an old-fashioned truck without mishap. Josiah himself drove the truck, sharing the cab with one of the conditioned workers who would make sure he knew which part of the destination site to pull up to. Brendan and Matti would ride in the back with the precious equipment. The Commerce Inspectors, armed with flechette pistols like Josiah's, and with flame guns like those carried by Transport Police, would be staying at the nearly-empty airport to guard the plane; but Matti, Josiah and Brendan all carried sidearms, and anyway, they were _supposed_ to be welcome guests in Detroit, even if they were infidels.
Their destination was the former Henry Ford Hospital, which the Imams' Council had renamed the Harun Fuad Hospital. When they parked the truck, they were met by more conditioned workers who placed their devices on a solar-powered cart to take it inside the main building. Brendan knew that Greg Jessup's flight crew, flying orbit in the air above them, would be keeping sensors locked onto the truck, to make sure it was not tampered with. Crossing a grassy quadrangle, they saw a man wearing what might have been a replica of the traditional attire of a physician from the medieval heyday of culture in Baghdad, complete with a turban. Behind the physician--for the visitors had been told to expect one of the hospital's top doctors to greet them--stood a woman buried inside a burka, unmoving and silent.
When Matti, Brendan and Josiah came within four meters of the doctor, the woman stepped back several paces. The doctor, bowing, addressed Brendan in Arabic: "Peace to you! I am told that you speak the language of the Prophet."
Brendan nodded. "If you can pardon my accent."
"I can pardon it readily; for what is publicly available of your old military record attests that you conducted yourself honorably when you served in Afghanistan. Please believe me that my hospital colleagues and I are not like the men you fought in that land. For instance--" he gestured to the woman behind him; "--my wife here is not required to wear the burka at _all_ times, even in public; we do have _some_ flexibility about attire. She wears it now merely to lend some formality to our first meeting. Gazbiyya, please come stand beside me." The woman did as bidden. Brendan and Josiah both had experience in moving among Muslim crowds and trying to guess by body language the intentions of persons whose faces they could not see; and it seemed to both of them that the unseen woman inside the fortress of cloth was at her ease, not worried about anything.
The woman took control of the easily-maneuvered cart. Her husband dismissed the workers, and switched to speaking English. "Welcome to Harun Fuad Hospital! I am Hassan Tamir, Chief of Internal Medicine. My wife, Gazbiyya, is one of the fifteen female M.D.'s authorized to practice medicine in the Cantonment. She, naturally, treats and examines only female and child patients. She will be with us as you demonstrate your ultrasound scanner, because it is a female patient who chances to be the handiest suitable subject for the scanning, as she has more than one condition to be studied. Let us go indoors now."
In the front lobby, the three travellers remained close to the cart. The female Doctor Tamir casually removed her burka and hung it up like a jacket, revealing herself to be a blonde woman in her forties, clad in a white lab coat and baggy trousers: an American proselyte who had assumed an Islamic first name, rather than someone from a traditionally Islamic nation. In a moment, she produced a hijab and her blonde hair disappeared beneath it; then she strode away to an elevator, on her way to prepare the patient who was now the test subject. The male Doctor Tamir went and spoke softly in Arabic to a man at a desk, then spoke to someone else by telephone. From what Brendan could overhear, it was ordinary medical talk.
While Brendan continued listening inconspicuously to the conversations, Matti and Josiah turned their attention to a large television set placed at one end of the lobby. There, in black and white, was the image of a deranged boy wearing a Supreme Court robe sized to fit him. This boy was in the middle of trying to sound grown up, as he orated grandly about the need to abolish species bigotry. One of Tim Govinda's policy aims in this connection was to encourage animals to bring lawsuits before the courts of the nation--including against other animals--and to urge human plaintiffs to employ animals as their attorneys.
Half a dozen Arab men were watching the speech, seeming amused by it. One glanced over at the three outsiders, but without evident hostility. What put Josiah and Matti on the alert was when Chief Justice Govinda began calling for the national ban on meat-eating to be extended to the Western Enclave and the Great Lakes Cantonment, the only parts of the Diversity States currently exempted from forced veganism. The three travellers were aware that the Muslims here, like the internal exiles on the Judeo-Christian reservation, were allowed to raise and butcher livestock. The Muslims had the added option of shopping for meat in Canada. Being able to enjoy a complete halal diet was one of the accommodations that made the Muslim Cantonment's population happy to stay here, although they _weren't_ fenced in. But what if this benefit were taken away from them by the efforts of an idiot child playing at being a judge?
The eldest of the Arab viewers, with a voice which didn't sound angry, told the others in English: "That boy is right about his being many animals at once. He's a pig, a dog, a monkey, a lizard, a snake, a toad, and a weasel!" This brought laughter from his companions.
Josiah whispered to Matti, "They don't look like rioting. So far, so good."
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Copperfox
Well-known member
(Note: REAL scientists are mentioned in the history Matti tells)
Hassan Tamir talked on an intercom, then rejoined his visitors, paying no attention to the television broadcast Matti and Josiah had been looking at. "Gazbiyya is talking to the patient, telling her what to expect. The young woman's name is Salwa bint-Yusuf Jalalu; her family is on the dole, and she has never undergone _any_ kind of technological scanning before."
"What exactly are her ailments?" asked Matti.
"Come along, I'll tell you inside my office while we wait for Gazbiyya to tell us that Miss Jalalu is ready. My office is large enough that we can bring the cart with your equipment in there with us." Once the four men were in greater privacy, he resumed: "A partial intestinal blockage, suggesting diverticulosis; and some traumas. Left eardrum ruptured by blunt impact, fractures of her right knee and shin; these injuries reportedly from.... an accident." Matti, Brendan and Josiah all noticed the disbelieving tone with which the physician uttered the word "accident."
Josiah lowered his eyes-- something he rarely did except when praying or gazing affectionately at children -- and asked, "Has there been any inquiry into the causes of these injuries?"
Hassan sighed. "Of course not. Salwa's father, Yusuf Jalalu, stated that she fell down a stairway. They live on the street level of a housing unit; their building has no stairways anywhere close to the laundry room where she was found lying. If this had happened in Italy, Morocco, Indonesia or the Parthian Republic, there _would_ be an investigation; a child-beater _might_ be punished. But here in the Cantonment, although many of us have repudiated the harsher implications of the Fourth Sura, the more tradition-bound men are allowed to rule their homes as they please. Thus, if Mr. Jalalu says that his daughter fell down a stairway, then slid horizontally along twenty meters of corridor, turning a corner and ending up in the laundry room, his word is not challenged."
Brendan, a man who had raised his children of both sexes with love and tenderness, growled, "All we can do is help to ensure that she receives good care for-- her _current_ 'accidental' injuries." He didn't notice that his right hand was resting on the high-velocity pistol at his hip--until he saw that Josiah's own gun-hand had made the same unconscious move.
"You're right," said Hassan, taking no heed of the way in which the two combat veterans unconsciously revealed their emotions. "So you know, Mr. Jalalu has been instructed to stay away from his daughter and from you men, until the scanner demonstration is concluded. Now, Professor, would you care to relate some of what makes your scanner special?"
"Of course. As you know, ultrasound scanners began to be computerized as soon as it was possible to do so, back before Josiah and Brendan were born. But the modest hospitals which serve the internal exiles in the Western Enclave are prohibited from using computerized equipment; and your own Cantonment enforces rigid limitations on the use of computer technology. Meanwhile, in the world at large, cyber-warfare has gone on evolving; and in war, one side might not hesitate to sabotage the other side's ability to treat their sick and wounded. These considerations motivated me to try reviving _analog_ technology in the medical-imaging field.
"I studied the work of Rokuro Uchida, an important Japanese pioneer in this area; he had two hundred sonic transducers working together in his device. Then I studied Albert Macovski's work at Stanford University; he mounted his transducer elements in a circular array, which could sweep its beam from place to place within a patient's body."
Hassan Tamir nodded. "Yes, dynamic focussing. I did some reading about those old-time developments in anticipation of your coming. But the people from H.R.A. hinted to me that your scanner can produce _holographic_ images, like the most advanced computerized ultrasound systems."
"Not in real time, nor unassisted. Computerized manufacturing was involved in _creating_ my scanner, and it has ways of _interfacing_ with artificial-intelligence networks; but the scanner itself doesn't _contain_ any computer components. My multiple circular arrays provide simultaneous real-time views of a patient's body from different angles; but to make a hologram from them, you have to feed the scanner's tape-deck data into a computer that can read it. Still, for all purposes of immediate on-the-scene diagnosis, I'm confident that my scanner will meet the need as well as a computerized one would do-- without being vulnerable to malicious codes."
"It sounds promising," said Hassan. "Do you have a name for it?"
Matti smiled. "I thought of naming it after myself; but the Fairness Party would probably think that calling it the Siermaala Scanner sounded much too capitalistic and un-mutual. I want to avoid irritating them, so that America's internal exiles, and others also, can _receive_ the benefits of my invention."
"That makes sense. I can understand your wanting to fill a gap for people who are lacking much of what modern medicine could offer; and I know that the People of the Book in the Enclave are seriously deprived. But begging your pardon, is there more to it for you? Do you have any relatives or friends inside that fence?"
"No, I don't know anyone in there." The Finnish scientist saw no reason to reveal that Brendan was eager to see Alipang Havens, and that Josiah was anxious to meet his son Daffodil Ford. "But as a physician, you can appreciate my wish to help _anyone_ in need. I'm only sorry that I can't do _more_ to help... someone like your Miss Jalalu."
"I'm sorry about that, too," agreed Hassan.
Soon the call came from Gazbiyya Tamir, for them to come upstairs.
Hassan Tamir talked on an intercom, then rejoined his visitors, paying no attention to the television broadcast Matti and Josiah had been looking at. "Gazbiyya is talking to the patient, telling her what to expect. The young woman's name is Salwa bint-Yusuf Jalalu; her family is on the dole, and she has never undergone _any_ kind of technological scanning before."
"What exactly are her ailments?" asked Matti.
"Come along, I'll tell you inside my office while we wait for Gazbiyya to tell us that Miss Jalalu is ready. My office is large enough that we can bring the cart with your equipment in there with us." Once the four men were in greater privacy, he resumed: "A partial intestinal blockage, suggesting diverticulosis; and some traumas. Left eardrum ruptured by blunt impact, fractures of her right knee and shin; these injuries reportedly from.... an accident." Matti, Brendan and Josiah all noticed the disbelieving tone with which the physician uttered the word "accident."
Josiah lowered his eyes-- something he rarely did except when praying or gazing affectionately at children -- and asked, "Has there been any inquiry into the causes of these injuries?"
Hassan sighed. "Of course not. Salwa's father, Yusuf Jalalu, stated that she fell down a stairway. They live on the street level of a housing unit; their building has no stairways anywhere close to the laundry room where she was found lying. If this had happened in Italy, Morocco, Indonesia or the Parthian Republic, there _would_ be an investigation; a child-beater _might_ be punished. But here in the Cantonment, although many of us have repudiated the harsher implications of the Fourth Sura, the more tradition-bound men are allowed to rule their homes as they please. Thus, if Mr. Jalalu says that his daughter fell down a stairway, then slid horizontally along twenty meters of corridor, turning a corner and ending up in the laundry room, his word is not challenged."
Brendan, a man who had raised his children of both sexes with love and tenderness, growled, "All we can do is help to ensure that she receives good care for-- her _current_ 'accidental' injuries." He didn't notice that his right hand was resting on the high-velocity pistol at his hip--until he saw that Josiah's own gun-hand had made the same unconscious move.
"You're right," said Hassan, taking no heed of the way in which the two combat veterans unconsciously revealed their emotions. "So you know, Mr. Jalalu has been instructed to stay away from his daughter and from you men, until the scanner demonstration is concluded. Now, Professor, would you care to relate some of what makes your scanner special?"
"Of course. As you know, ultrasound scanners began to be computerized as soon as it was possible to do so, back before Josiah and Brendan were born. But the modest hospitals which serve the internal exiles in the Western Enclave are prohibited from using computerized equipment; and your own Cantonment enforces rigid limitations on the use of computer technology. Meanwhile, in the world at large, cyber-warfare has gone on evolving; and in war, one side might not hesitate to sabotage the other side's ability to treat their sick and wounded. These considerations motivated me to try reviving _analog_ technology in the medical-imaging field.
"I studied the work of Rokuro Uchida, an important Japanese pioneer in this area; he had two hundred sonic transducers working together in his device. Then I studied Albert Macovski's work at Stanford University; he mounted his transducer elements in a circular array, which could sweep its beam from place to place within a patient's body."
Hassan Tamir nodded. "Yes, dynamic focussing. I did some reading about those old-time developments in anticipation of your coming. But the people from H.R.A. hinted to me that your scanner can produce _holographic_ images, like the most advanced computerized ultrasound systems."
"Not in real time, nor unassisted. Computerized manufacturing was involved in _creating_ my scanner, and it has ways of _interfacing_ with artificial-intelligence networks; but the scanner itself doesn't _contain_ any computer components. My multiple circular arrays provide simultaneous real-time views of a patient's body from different angles; but to make a hologram from them, you have to feed the scanner's tape-deck data into a computer that can read it. Still, for all purposes of immediate on-the-scene diagnosis, I'm confident that my scanner will meet the need as well as a computerized one would do-- without being vulnerable to malicious codes."
"It sounds promising," said Hassan. "Do you have a name for it?"
Matti smiled. "I thought of naming it after myself; but the Fairness Party would probably think that calling it the Siermaala Scanner sounded much too capitalistic and un-mutual. I want to avoid irritating them, so that America's internal exiles, and others also, can _receive_ the benefits of my invention."
"That makes sense. I can understand your wanting to fill a gap for people who are lacking much of what modern medicine could offer; and I know that the People of the Book in the Enclave are seriously deprived. But begging your pardon, is there more to it for you? Do you have any relatives or friends inside that fence?"
"No, I don't know anyone in there." The Finnish scientist saw no reason to reveal that Brendan was eager to see Alipang Havens, and that Josiah was anxious to meet his son Daffodil Ford. "But as a physician, you can appreciate my wish to help _anyone_ in need. I'm only sorry that I can't do _more_ to help... someone like your Miss Jalalu."
"I'm sorry about that, too," agreed Hassan.
Soon the call came from Gazbiyya Tamir, for them to come upstairs.
Copperfox
Well-known member
The small medical community in this district was grateful for a certain fatwa that was in effect here. With so few female doctors for a population larger than the Western Enclave's current population, it was helpful that male doctors and male nurses were freely allowed to look at ultrasound, magnetic-resonance, or tomographic imagery of a female patient's internal organs. The regional imams had agreed that a lung or a pancreas was not too likely to send a man into spasms of wild lust. Gazbiyya Tamir had ensured that the face and hair of Salwa bint-Yusuf Jalalu, plus most of her body, were covered up with linen (and the face with a surgical mask). So Hassan Tamir, Matti Siermaala, Brendan Hyland and Josiah Redfern would only be looking at her insides.
Moments before they entered the patient's private room, Brendan, the tallest of the four men, caught a glimpse over Hassan's shoulder of information displayed on a tablet computer carried by the internal-medicine chief. It was in Arabic, but Brendan could read as well as speak this language. "Doctor Tamir! She's forty-six years old? And still lives with her father? I was expecting her to be some kid."
Hassan stopped walking while he answerred. "She lives with him periodically. She returned to him last fall after her fifth divorce."
"Fifth??? What's that about?"
"Salwa was never physically beautiful," Hassan sighed. "I knew her family in Dearborn, long before the Fairness Party arose and the Cantonment was founded. But she has useful talents, notably as a superb halal cook. Consequently, a series of men found it convenient to marry her for, say, two or three years each. Besides the five husbands who divorced her, there were two whom she outlived, old men. But she never bore a child to any of them. So her father considers her as trash, but lets her come back each time she's cut loose, because then he gets more welfare money. And I do mean he gets the money; she has to find work to eat."
By this point, though saying nothing, the soft-spoken Professor Siermaala was beginning to share the wish felt by his two military friends, to kill the unseen Yusuf Jalalu.
But Hassan put them back on task, leading the way to Salwa's room. With both Tamirs watching their actions, Matti and Josiah made ready the scanner, positioning its four circular transducer arrays at the points of an imaginary tetrahedron surrounding the supine woman's shrouded body. While they worked, Brendan, who had no part in the actual medical-technologist work, made use again of his Arabic proficiency to address the subject of this equipment trial.
"Peace to you, Salwa bint-Yusuf! We are the men who have come over from Africa with a device to help diagnose your injuries. None of what we do here will cause you any harm or discomfort, and it should help the doctors to restore you sooner to health. Do you understand me?"
A timid voice came from under the surgical mask: "I understand, and Lady Doctor Tamir has also told me what is to happen. But I am not worthy of so much attention! I am a burden on my father and on the government. I do nothing right; I went running this way and that like a heedless child, behavior most improper for a grown woman; thus did I fall down the stairs of the apartment house. I deserve help neither from the faithful of Allah, nor from any virtuous outsider."
"Your father is not in this room, nor on this floor of the hospital," Brendan told her softly. "And it pleases us to help you."
Matti Siermaala went to work, providing the Tamirs-- and a black-and-white videocorder -- with plentiful commentary about how he was controlling the scanner. They switched from one to another of the viewing angles offered by the transducer arrays, helping Hassan and Gazbiyya to study every aspect of Salwa's traumas. The two physicians understood fractures very well; given a sufficiently clear visual, they could both tell the difference between a torsion fracture which could result from a person's leg being caught in something like a gap in stairsteps, and the sort of fracture that would result from an external blunt-instrument impact. The Finnish scanner had superb image resolution... and Salwa's leg had been clubbed, not stuck in something and bent the wrong way.
Matti also had plenty of experience at interpreting what appeared in ultrasound pictures. He now said to Hassan, "Doctor Tamir, this patient simply didn't get her leg stuck while running like a horse stepping in a gopher hole. She was struck on her leg-- and obviously on that ear, too. I'll bet you could find particles in her skin from whatever she was beaten with."
"Let's view the large intestine now," Hassan replied calmly, "because we're here to do what we can."
It didn't take long at all to detect the cause of Salwa's partial colon blockage. A foreign object, about the size of an almond, was lodged at a bend in the lower tract. "I can use the sound waves to feel out the consistency of that object," Matti told the two physicians. Less than two minutes later, he could report: "This isn't a tumor or a polyp--nothing organic. It's made of some kind of plastic."
The female Doctor Tamir lifted her eyebrows. Matti had spoken to her in English, but she now used Arabic with the patient. "Salwa, you never told me that you had ingested anything abnormal. Did your father _force_ you to swallow something? Don't be afraid to tell me, we uphold medical confidentiality here."
"Yes, he did. Forgive me, sister Gazbiyya, I felt it would be.... presumptious of me to complain. Before the last beating, my father declared that my cooking tasted like plastic.... so he broke off a piece of a handled plastic storage container.... and made me eat it."
"What are they saying?" Josiah asked Brendan, for he also was curious about how a lump of plastic came to be where this lump was. Brendan hurriedly translated the exchange--
And Josiah nearly lost control of his outrage. But Hassan Tamir, who saw plenty of this kind of thing in Detroit, merely entered in his tablet computer a high-priority directive for the obstruction to be removed from Salwa's intestine.
Moments before they entered the patient's private room, Brendan, the tallest of the four men, caught a glimpse over Hassan's shoulder of information displayed on a tablet computer carried by the internal-medicine chief. It was in Arabic, but Brendan could read as well as speak this language. "Doctor Tamir! She's forty-six years old? And still lives with her father? I was expecting her to be some kid."
Hassan stopped walking while he answerred. "She lives with him periodically. She returned to him last fall after her fifth divorce."
"Fifth??? What's that about?"
"Salwa was never physically beautiful," Hassan sighed. "I knew her family in Dearborn, long before the Fairness Party arose and the Cantonment was founded. But she has useful talents, notably as a superb halal cook. Consequently, a series of men found it convenient to marry her for, say, two or three years each. Besides the five husbands who divorced her, there were two whom she outlived, old men. But she never bore a child to any of them. So her father considers her as trash, but lets her come back each time she's cut loose, because then he gets more welfare money. And I do mean he gets the money; she has to find work to eat."
By this point, though saying nothing, the soft-spoken Professor Siermaala was beginning to share the wish felt by his two military friends, to kill the unseen Yusuf Jalalu.
But Hassan put them back on task, leading the way to Salwa's room. With both Tamirs watching their actions, Matti and Josiah made ready the scanner, positioning its four circular transducer arrays at the points of an imaginary tetrahedron surrounding the supine woman's shrouded body. While they worked, Brendan, who had no part in the actual medical-technologist work, made use again of his Arabic proficiency to address the subject of this equipment trial.
"Peace to you, Salwa bint-Yusuf! We are the men who have come over from Africa with a device to help diagnose your injuries. None of what we do here will cause you any harm or discomfort, and it should help the doctors to restore you sooner to health. Do you understand me?"
A timid voice came from under the surgical mask: "I understand, and Lady Doctor Tamir has also told me what is to happen. But I am not worthy of so much attention! I am a burden on my father and on the government. I do nothing right; I went running this way and that like a heedless child, behavior most improper for a grown woman; thus did I fall down the stairs of the apartment house. I deserve help neither from the faithful of Allah, nor from any virtuous outsider."
"Your father is not in this room, nor on this floor of the hospital," Brendan told her softly. "And it pleases us to help you."
Matti Siermaala went to work, providing the Tamirs-- and a black-and-white videocorder -- with plentiful commentary about how he was controlling the scanner. They switched from one to another of the viewing angles offered by the transducer arrays, helping Hassan and Gazbiyya to study every aspect of Salwa's traumas. The two physicians understood fractures very well; given a sufficiently clear visual, they could both tell the difference between a torsion fracture which could result from a person's leg being caught in something like a gap in stairsteps, and the sort of fracture that would result from an external blunt-instrument impact. The Finnish scanner had superb image resolution... and Salwa's leg had been clubbed, not stuck in something and bent the wrong way.
Matti also had plenty of experience at interpreting what appeared in ultrasound pictures. He now said to Hassan, "Doctor Tamir, this patient simply didn't get her leg stuck while running like a horse stepping in a gopher hole. She was struck on her leg-- and obviously on that ear, too. I'll bet you could find particles in her skin from whatever she was beaten with."
"Let's view the large intestine now," Hassan replied calmly, "because we're here to do what we can."
It didn't take long at all to detect the cause of Salwa's partial colon blockage. A foreign object, about the size of an almond, was lodged at a bend in the lower tract. "I can use the sound waves to feel out the consistency of that object," Matti told the two physicians. Less than two minutes later, he could report: "This isn't a tumor or a polyp--nothing organic. It's made of some kind of plastic."
The female Doctor Tamir lifted her eyebrows. Matti had spoken to her in English, but she now used Arabic with the patient. "Salwa, you never told me that you had ingested anything abnormal. Did your father _force_ you to swallow something? Don't be afraid to tell me, we uphold medical confidentiality here."
"Yes, he did. Forgive me, sister Gazbiyya, I felt it would be.... presumptious of me to complain. Before the last beating, my father declared that my cooking tasted like plastic.... so he broke off a piece of a handled plastic storage container.... and made me eat it."
"What are they saying?" Josiah asked Brendan, for he also was curious about how a lump of plastic came to be where this lump was. Brendan hurriedly translated the exchange--
And Josiah nearly lost control of his outrage. But Hassan Tamir, who saw plenty of this kind of thing in Detroit, merely entered in his tablet computer a high-priority directive for the obstruction to be removed from Salwa's intestine.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
The three visitors completed their business without ever catching a glimpse of Salwa Jalalu's face... but not without Brendan and Josiah both silently pleading with God to be merciful to this long-abused woman. Hassan entered all the data on the scanner demonstration into the hospital's stand-alone database, then told Professor Siermaala, "A large corporation in India will be contacting you soon, with an offer to pay you for three of these ultrasound units, to be given to Harun Fuad and two other hospitals in the Cantonment."
"This is the first I've heard of anybody from India taking interest," replied Matti. "Did they say if they might want any for their _own_ use? And was the gift to the Cantonment President Trevette's idea?"
"No, but she and the Party Presidium approved of the proposal. The Indians haven't said anything about wanting to buy your invention for themselves. They view the presentation to us as a chance to prove, in a non-belligerent fashion, that China isn't the only country that can stick its hand into North American affairs."
Down in the lobby, emerging from the elevator with the scanner on its cart, Matti and his companions were just about to say goodbye to Hassan and Gazbiyya... when Josiah sensed someone behind him. Turning, he found himself one meter away from the most ornately-robed Muslim he had seen _anyplace_ in a long time; and the white-bearded face beneath the multicolored turban was recognizable to him as that of Bassem ibn-Rashid al-Farag, Imam-Governor of the Great Lakes Cantonment. Six armed bodyguards were standing ten paces behind Al-Farag, with guns in hand but not aimed.
"Peace to you, man of America and of Africa," said the aging dogmatist. "I expect that you remember me from old days in New York?"
"Yes, I do," Josiah answered. "But it's been long enough that I can't guess what your interest in me is now."
"Simple, Mr. Redfern. I plan for a little while to become your hostage."
Josiah, his friends, and the onlooking Hassan Tamir (while Gazbiyya kept silent in the Imam's presence) all spontaneously reacted with "WHAT??"
Imam Al-Farag paid no attention to Brendan, Matti or the Tamirs. "Since you, Mr. Redfern, have been known to be so harsh as to claim that Islamic freedom fighters would take innocent persons hostage, I hope to set your mind at ease by letting myself be in _your_ power for the time it will take for me to conduct my business with you. Here I stand, within your arm's reach; you are physically far stronger than I am, and if this encounter came to violence, you could kill me with your bare hands, not to mention your pistol, before my guards could shoot you. So call it a good-faith gesture that I place myself at your mercy, thus deterring my own men from doing anything hostile."
"Well, thank you very much, I'm sure; but what exactly IS your business with me? It can't be about the ultrasound scanner, since the hospital personnel are more than able to handle everything concerning that."
"You are correct, Mr. Redfern. Yet my business _does_ involve my district's largely self-imposed limitations in technology. I have a question to ask you which might seem childishly easy to you; but I have painted myself into a corner where I cannot easily obtain a reliable answer for myself."
"All right, I'll see if I can help you."
The Imam smiled. "Excellent! I knew you were a man who could rise above personal grudges to practice courtesy." Now he looked at Brendan and the Professor. "I do not know whether Mr. Redfern has related this to you gentlemen, but back when he lived in New York, I was a party to an attempt to have him tried and convicted for a hate-motivated assault."
"He means when I saved Walid Omar from those thugs," Josiah explained to his friends.
"Quite so," Bassem al-Farag admitted. "I was never a member of the extremist group to which those misguided youths belonged, though members of it were known to attend my mosque. But with the epidemic of Islamophobia long rampant in the United States, I felt it my duty to support the setting of an example, to warn future bigots."
Josiah's indignation was resurging, his current feelings about the unfortunate Salwa blending with the memory of when those idiotic campus cops had arrested _him_ in the name of political correctness... He vented just a little, in an unthreatening way: "Imam, there's an old movie you ought to see."
Al-Farag was taken off-balance by this odd response. "A movie?"
"Cecil B. DeMille, nineteen-blessed-thirty-five: The Crusades. That movie depicted Saladin as a _better_ man than Richard the Lion-Hearted. Muslims were getting a fair shake in America's media even _before_ our own black population began to receive justice. Your 'epidemic of Islamophobia' was purely MADE UP. Now, kindly proceed to your main point."
"Very well. Believe me, my point was to be in your favor. I was going to tell your friends about Lowell Sanders." The Imam looked at Matti and Brendan once more. "Lowell Sanders was a philosophy teacher at the college where Mr. Redfern was taking pre-medical courses. Though not a Muslim himself, Sanders was most helpful to Crescent of Purity Mosque in promoting understanding. Unfortunately, he grew over-zealous about publicly calling for Mr. Redfern to be punished for the alleged hate crime. I would not have been surprised if Mr. Redfern, after being exonerated by Walid Omar's testimony, had remained a lifelong enemy to Sanders. But Mr. Redfern _forgave_ his detractor."
"Yes, I did," Josiah affirmed. "And I forgave him _before_ he became a fellow Christian. So you know I can be conciliatory. But what is it you need from me now, and how is it connected with you having technological shortcomings in your district?"
"This is the first I've heard of anybody from India taking interest," replied Matti. "Did they say if they might want any for their _own_ use? And was the gift to the Cantonment President Trevette's idea?"
"No, but she and the Party Presidium approved of the proposal. The Indians haven't said anything about wanting to buy your invention for themselves. They view the presentation to us as a chance to prove, in a non-belligerent fashion, that China isn't the only country that can stick its hand into North American affairs."
Down in the lobby, emerging from the elevator with the scanner on its cart, Matti and his companions were just about to say goodbye to Hassan and Gazbiyya... when Josiah sensed someone behind him. Turning, he found himself one meter away from the most ornately-robed Muslim he had seen _anyplace_ in a long time; and the white-bearded face beneath the multicolored turban was recognizable to him as that of Bassem ibn-Rashid al-Farag, Imam-Governor of the Great Lakes Cantonment. Six armed bodyguards were standing ten paces behind Al-Farag, with guns in hand but not aimed.
"Peace to you, man of America and of Africa," said the aging dogmatist. "I expect that you remember me from old days in New York?"
"Yes, I do," Josiah answered. "But it's been long enough that I can't guess what your interest in me is now."
"Simple, Mr. Redfern. I plan for a little while to become your hostage."
Josiah, his friends, and the onlooking Hassan Tamir (while Gazbiyya kept silent in the Imam's presence) all spontaneously reacted with "WHAT??"
Imam Al-Farag paid no attention to Brendan, Matti or the Tamirs. "Since you, Mr. Redfern, have been known to be so harsh as to claim that Islamic freedom fighters would take innocent persons hostage, I hope to set your mind at ease by letting myself be in _your_ power for the time it will take for me to conduct my business with you. Here I stand, within your arm's reach; you are physically far stronger than I am, and if this encounter came to violence, you could kill me with your bare hands, not to mention your pistol, before my guards could shoot you. So call it a good-faith gesture that I place myself at your mercy, thus deterring my own men from doing anything hostile."
"Well, thank you very much, I'm sure; but what exactly IS your business with me? It can't be about the ultrasound scanner, since the hospital personnel are more than able to handle everything concerning that."
"You are correct, Mr. Redfern. Yet my business _does_ involve my district's largely self-imposed limitations in technology. I have a question to ask you which might seem childishly easy to you; but I have painted myself into a corner where I cannot easily obtain a reliable answer for myself."
"All right, I'll see if I can help you."
The Imam smiled. "Excellent! I knew you were a man who could rise above personal grudges to practice courtesy." Now he looked at Brendan and the Professor. "I do not know whether Mr. Redfern has related this to you gentlemen, but back when he lived in New York, I was a party to an attempt to have him tried and convicted for a hate-motivated assault."
"He means when I saved Walid Omar from those thugs," Josiah explained to his friends.
"Quite so," Bassem al-Farag admitted. "I was never a member of the extremist group to which those misguided youths belonged, though members of it were known to attend my mosque. But with the epidemic of Islamophobia long rampant in the United States, I felt it my duty to support the setting of an example, to warn future bigots."
Josiah's indignation was resurging, his current feelings about the unfortunate Salwa blending with the memory of when those idiotic campus cops had arrested _him_ in the name of political correctness... He vented just a little, in an unthreatening way: "Imam, there's an old movie you ought to see."
Al-Farag was taken off-balance by this odd response. "A movie?"
"Cecil B. DeMille, nineteen-blessed-thirty-five: The Crusades. That movie depicted Saladin as a _better_ man than Richard the Lion-Hearted. Muslims were getting a fair shake in America's media even _before_ our own black population began to receive justice. Your 'epidemic of Islamophobia' was purely MADE UP. Now, kindly proceed to your main point."
"Very well. Believe me, my point was to be in your favor. I was going to tell your friends about Lowell Sanders." The Imam looked at Matti and Brendan once more. "Lowell Sanders was a philosophy teacher at the college where Mr. Redfern was taking pre-medical courses. Though not a Muslim himself, Sanders was most helpful to Crescent of Purity Mosque in promoting understanding. Unfortunately, he grew over-zealous about publicly calling for Mr. Redfern to be punished for the alleged hate crime. I would not have been surprised if Mr. Redfern, after being exonerated by Walid Omar's testimony, had remained a lifelong enemy to Sanders. But Mr. Redfern _forgave_ his detractor."
"Yes, I did," Josiah affirmed. "And I forgave him _before_ he became a fellow Christian. So you know I can be conciliatory. But what is it you need from me now, and how is it connected with you having technological shortcomings in your district?"
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Zella
New member
Sorry it took me so long to comment; I've been pretty busy, and I fell behind.
I like Gerbil.
That made me laugh.
Imagine.
Poor Salwa Jalalu.
I wonder what Imam Al-Farag wants.
I like Gerbil.
That made me laugh.
Imagine.
Poor Salwa Jalalu.
I wonder what Imam Al-Farag wants.
Copperfox
Well-known member
"Doctor Tamir," said the Imam-Governor, "may we use your office?" Gazbiyya Tamir knew perfectly well that he was not addressing her; Bassem ibn-Rashid al-Farag did not speak to women if he could possibly avoid it. She took her leave with only a discreet farewell nod to Matti, Brendan and Josiah. Hassan Tamir let the Imam and the three visitors into his office, the bodyguards being left outside it; then Hassan went to his wife, the two of them having the care of Salwa Jalalu and other patients to oversee.
Claiming for himself what was normally the chair of the internal-medicine chief, Al-Farag resumed speaking to Josiah: "The Cantonment runs most smoothly when its common citizens always believe that we are just about to extend our influence across the remainder of the country. To this end, I seek to avoid having too many of the faithful starting to doubt my explanation of contemporary conditions. My administration has enough to manage, then, with some of our people always wandering into neighboring federal districts and coming back spiritually contaminated. We cannot have _everyone_ being contaminated at the same time, by means of unrestricted access to the media of the Department of Indoctrination. So we have our own media; but precisely because our Sharia-compliant communications take such pains to block out unclean subjects, I am at a loss to find out a certain piece of information which pertains to Christianity. When I learned that you, Mr. Redfern, would be here, I felt sure that you would know this."
Josiah remained puzzled. "But as the _Governor_ of this federal district, surely _you're_ not bound by the media-use restrictions that affect common citizens?"
"Not bound by my _own_ restrictions; but just outside my information fence, there is the Fairness Party's information fence. They do not allow computers of mine to access any database not maintained within the Diversity States. My contacts with the four Caliphates are carried on by _voice_ communications; and so far, no one I have talked to there knows the answer to my question.
"I knew that _somebody_ in the Diversity States had to know; but of those who knew, it was always possible that some would have a motive to deceive me."
"Don't you have lie-detection technology?" asked Brendan.
Al-Farag half-chuckled. "My brother Imams and I always insist that we need no other help than the guidance of the Koran and the Hadith to enable us to discern truth and lies. It is an act of faith on our part that we--and I mean the whole Cantonment--do not _have_ any voiceprint or brainwave truth-devices."
Josiah skewered the old man with his eyes. "And, conveniently, the absence of such devices _removes_ a means by which someone you _want_ to condemn could have been proven innocent."
If ever silence was a confession, the Imam now confessed that Josiah was right, by not reacting to the statement. Instead, he went on: "I am able to find out all sorts of scientific or judicial or administrative or law-enforcement information. Thus, I know that what is flying back and forth over us now is a heavily-armed Texas Ranger airplane. But a different fact eludes me: one which normally would be of no importance, but one which _now_ has an effect on my short-term policies. It is a fact which you are likely to know; and of all the non-Muslims I have known, YOU--whether I like you or not--are the very one about whom I am the most confident that your integrity will not allow you to lie to me."
"That's quite a buildup. So ask your question. If I know the answer, and _provided_ that I don't feel that my telling you will cause harm to any innocent person, you'll get your information."
"I will not only promise you that no innocent person will be harmed; I shall see to it that an innocent person is _helped_ in return for your cooperation. I have no doubt that Hassan Tamir has told you men about the background of the patient you scanned; he is terribly soft-hearted on the subject of women being kept in their place. Well, if you tell me what I need to know, I give you my word that Yusuf Jalalu will never abuse his daughter again; I shall put him to death, as I suspect you would like to do yourself."
Josiah almost smiled. "You're close enough to right on that score; but I won't request that you _kill_ him, only imprison him or something, so he can't hurt Salwa anymore."
Matti suddenly chimed in: "There's another alternative, sir. You could submit a request to the Party that Miss Jalalu, as soon as she can be moved, should be relocated _permanently_ to the Western Enclave. No one in Washington would see any cause to refuse you this. She would be safe there; and the move can even be justified in the context of my work. The Enclave will be the first place where my invention is in full-time use; and with her living there, I can make a record of how my scans follow her progress in recuperation."
The old cleric tilted his head slightly. "Hmmm, why not? All right, Mr. Redfern, if I get satisfaction, you have my word that it shall be as Professor Siermaala suggests."
"Sounds fine to me. So, what IS your question?"
"My question--rather, the first part of it--is: do you know what Quakers are?"
Claiming for himself what was normally the chair of the internal-medicine chief, Al-Farag resumed speaking to Josiah: "The Cantonment runs most smoothly when its common citizens always believe that we are just about to extend our influence across the remainder of the country. To this end, I seek to avoid having too many of the faithful starting to doubt my explanation of contemporary conditions. My administration has enough to manage, then, with some of our people always wandering into neighboring federal districts and coming back spiritually contaminated. We cannot have _everyone_ being contaminated at the same time, by means of unrestricted access to the media of the Department of Indoctrination. So we have our own media; but precisely because our Sharia-compliant communications take such pains to block out unclean subjects, I am at a loss to find out a certain piece of information which pertains to Christianity. When I learned that you, Mr. Redfern, would be here, I felt sure that you would know this."
Josiah remained puzzled. "But as the _Governor_ of this federal district, surely _you're_ not bound by the media-use restrictions that affect common citizens?"
"Not bound by my _own_ restrictions; but just outside my information fence, there is the Fairness Party's information fence. They do not allow computers of mine to access any database not maintained within the Diversity States. My contacts with the four Caliphates are carried on by _voice_ communications; and so far, no one I have talked to there knows the answer to my question.
"I knew that _somebody_ in the Diversity States had to know; but of those who knew, it was always possible that some would have a motive to deceive me."
"Don't you have lie-detection technology?" asked Brendan.
Al-Farag half-chuckled. "My brother Imams and I always insist that we need no other help than the guidance of the Koran and the Hadith to enable us to discern truth and lies. It is an act of faith on our part that we--and I mean the whole Cantonment--do not _have_ any voiceprint or brainwave truth-devices."
Josiah skewered the old man with his eyes. "And, conveniently, the absence of such devices _removes_ a means by which someone you _want_ to condemn could have been proven innocent."
If ever silence was a confession, the Imam now confessed that Josiah was right, by not reacting to the statement. Instead, he went on: "I am able to find out all sorts of scientific or judicial or administrative or law-enforcement information. Thus, I know that what is flying back and forth over us now is a heavily-armed Texas Ranger airplane. But a different fact eludes me: one which normally would be of no importance, but one which _now_ has an effect on my short-term policies. It is a fact which you are likely to know; and of all the non-Muslims I have known, YOU--whether I like you or not--are the very one about whom I am the most confident that your integrity will not allow you to lie to me."
"That's quite a buildup. So ask your question. If I know the answer, and _provided_ that I don't feel that my telling you will cause harm to any innocent person, you'll get your information."
"I will not only promise you that no innocent person will be harmed; I shall see to it that an innocent person is _helped_ in return for your cooperation. I have no doubt that Hassan Tamir has told you men about the background of the patient you scanned; he is terribly soft-hearted on the subject of women being kept in their place. Well, if you tell me what I need to know, I give you my word that Yusuf Jalalu will never abuse his daughter again; I shall put him to death, as I suspect you would like to do yourself."
Josiah almost smiled. "You're close enough to right on that score; but I won't request that you _kill_ him, only imprison him or something, so he can't hurt Salwa anymore."
Matti suddenly chimed in: "There's another alternative, sir. You could submit a request to the Party that Miss Jalalu, as soon as she can be moved, should be relocated _permanently_ to the Western Enclave. No one in Washington would see any cause to refuse you this. She would be safe there; and the move can even be justified in the context of my work. The Enclave will be the first place where my invention is in full-time use; and with her living there, I can make a record of how my scans follow her progress in recuperation."
The old cleric tilted his head slightly. "Hmmm, why not? All right, Mr. Redfern, if I get satisfaction, you have my word that it shall be as Professor Siermaala suggests."
"Sounds fine to me. So, what IS your question?"
"My question--rather, the first part of it--is: do you know what Quakers are?"
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