The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Sunki Pavatea, the Hopi Indian ceremonial clown and sometime spy, had been detached for awhile from his new duties as a coordinator for Mexico's reorganization of the former Aztec-Maoist Republic of Aztlan. He had presented a report to the Western Hemisphere Union on the rapid progress that Navajos, Apaches and other indigenous peoples were making at restoring local infrastructure. This report had been delivered in Tegucigalpa, which was the Hemispheric Union's new home since the Caribbean Union had turned against the Venezuelan Alliance and swung the vote to confirm the move out of Caracas. Now Mister Pavatea was lingering here in Central America to hear new testimony on a subject about which he had already testified before: the exhaustively-proven fact that the Formentera regime had practiced Aztec-style human sacrifice-- ostensibly as a form of "spirituality," but actually as a way for loyal Aztec-Maoists to harden their hearts while cutting out other people's hearts.

There had been previous rescues of Aztlano prisoners; Mister Pavatea himself had saved the life of Morton Tannenburg, who had thus lived to marry his sweetheart Gloria Cervantes. But only with the complete conquest of Aztlan had it become evident just _how_ massive the mass murders had been. Even with many having been hastily killed just before the end, in an effort to silence their testimony, thousands of survivors of the Formentera dungeons had been liberated. A representative 650 of these had by now testified before the Bi-Continental Assembly, or had their testimonies videocorded. These included Diversity States citizens who had been kidnapped by Aztlano raiders, to provide skilled slave labor, during the handful of years since the North American Partition. The very last of these witnesses was Nora Daley, the African-American scientist who had been forced to work in the Formenteras' laboratories, helping to create strength-enhanced fighters, like the late Vitaly Khloponin.

No penalty awaited Nora or others with similar stories, because they had served the Aztlanos only under duress. As for the thugs who had _applied_ the duress, and who had assisted at hundreds of the human sacrifices to "the Solar Influence," only eight or ten of the very most sadistic and vicious culprits looked like being sentenced to death. After all, the usual fashion of the twenty-first century was to reserve capital punishment only for innocent persons. El Presidente Emilio Formentera had already suffered his well-deserved death sentence in Wyoming; and his siblings Ricardo and Lupita were being allowed their asylum in Venezuela, on condition of having tracking chips placed in their bodies.

Striding through an avalanche of applause, Nora Daley came to sit beside Sunki Pavatea, with whom she had conversed many times since she had been set free from captivity. "I'm glad they like me, but I can't seem to get over stage fright. When you've performed as a sacred clown, have you ever had stage fright?"

"No, but I had an advantage," Sunki replied. "For a Hopi clown, it's a _triumph_ if you get laughed off the stage."

Nora shook her head, smiling. She and Sunki were both in their forties, and both had cause to despise totalitarian governments. But they were also both unattached, getting tired of that status -- and already finding that they got along very well together: he respecting her scientific knowledge, and she respecting his knowledge of history and culture. "You know what, Sunki? I think maybe it _isn't_ simple stage fright for me; it's more like suddenly-being-free-after-living-under-threat-of-death fright."

Sunki clasped Nora's hand. "A sort of post-traumatic stress, then. Sounds to me as if you could use a wise Hopi clown to help you see the brighter side of life again."

Her hand responsively squeezed his, as her eyes looked straight into his. "I think I'm seeing that brighter side already. Brace yourself, though, here comes Inez Monasterio to speak."

The woman taking the podium was one of the pagan-earth-mother priestesses to whom the current Bolivian government entrusted Bolivia's share in representing the Venezuelan Alliance in the Bi-Continental Assembly. Inez Monasterio gave a speech which was indistinguishable from the last three speeches she had given to this assembly. It was a replay of predigested phrases about the oneness of all life, the necessity of economic justice, and the dreadful sexist white supremacists who were hiding behind every tree. The eleven-minute speech served one constructive purpose: making it easy for Nora and Sunki to tune out Inez and concentrate on the pleasure of gently flirting with each other.

After the priestess, though, came a man who, though not an accredited diplomat, was authorized to speak on behalf of the Mexican Alliance: the aggressive journalist and resolute survivor, Santiago Sanchez. His talk was one that Sunki and his new lady friend _wanted_ to hear.

"Distinguished delegates, learned consultants, and courageous witnesses! I need not be lengthy, because enough is already known so that _everyone_ here can accept my words as truth. When the Venezuelan Alliance engineered its illegal overthrow of the Argentinian government, it pretended -- as such people routinely do -- that the revolutionaries were acting for the good of the people. But we now know, not as opinion but as verified fact, that the Venezuelan alliance also supported the barbaric actions of the Formentera regime, for the entire fortunately-short lifetime of the Republic of Aztlan. Many privileged individuals from Venezuela, Bolivia and Peru even _participated_ in the ritual murders -- again, this is fact, not opinion. I defy anyone to say with a straight face that _those_ actions were 'for the good of the people' in what had been the southwestern United States. Then why should we any longer give one speck of credence to Venezuela's pretense that its maneuver to detach Argentina from the Mexican Alliance was motivated by _anything_ other than the crude greed for power?

"At this historic moment, when one filthy nest of evil has been cleaned out, I call for a further move toward justice and freedom. President Andreas Garcia of Mexico, President Monica Sotero of Texas, and >all< heads of state in the Mexican Alliance, have graciously deputized me to speak for them in this matter, because I am a native of the nation which suffered that criminal takeover. We call for the Hemispheric Union to _require_ new elections in Argentina, to be monitored for honesty by multiple, redundant groups of international observers..."

This promised to become a furious debate. But Sunki knew, and assured Nora, that the tide was turning against the totalitarians of Caracas. "In fact," he concluded, "I see a good chance that the governments in the Venezuelan Alliance will _themselves_ be forced eventually to hold fair elections -- not like what Hugo Chavez used to arrange."

Nora grinned. "An epidemic of democracy! Sounds good."

"So it does. And I know something else that would sound good: you coming with me this evening to a local club I've heard about, for some dancing."

"I'm for it! But do Hopi clowns do _social_ dancing?"

"I can adapt. We'll show the kids that we oldsters have moves!"
 
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"Hopi clown and sometime spy." Nice.

Wikipedia suggests that pueblo clowning could be a slightly disgusting job. I had no idea there was any such thing. :p
 
"Hopi clown and sometime spy." Nice.

Wikipedia suggests that "pueblo" clowning could be a slightly disgusting job. I had no idea there was any such thing. :p
 
It had been a long wait for Jessica Trevette, in some sort of minimum-security prison on Taiwan, before a seat became available for her on a Chinese Spaceways flight to the Moon. It was an express flight, not stopping at Orbital Palace Space Station.

The wait on Earth, and a 22-hour space flight on which no one spoke to her unless necessary, had given Jessica plenty of time to simmer. And, as often happens with narcissistic personalities, her sense of entitlement had used this dreary stretch of time to attack and erode the newer, stranger sensations which had entered her private universe because of the mercy of that Biblical exile dentist. Managing to sleep in flight, she dreamed of her former privileges and her numerous lovers; awakening two and a half hours before landing approach, she had for the time being succeeded in forgetting that she had ever started to feel sorry for the crimes she had committed.

At the arrivals checkpoint of Lunar Orchard, Jessica's mind focused on the relief of having an up and a down again. Lesser gravity, but gravity. The procedure for going to the toilet in weightlessness was not something she cared to remember. Now, however, her attention was called away from her favorite subject (herself) by a female voice that spoke fluent but Chinese-accented English:

"Jessica Trevette, come this way, please. Your personal effects will be returned to you after a routine inspection. Right now, you yourself have medical screening to undergo."

The speaker was a woman who had visited the Diversity States a couple of times while Jessica had been President: Doctor Hsing Ti-Lao, medical officer of China's Moon colony. With her were three other women, of whom the youngest seemed to be of some Central Asian nationality. The remaining two were white women, of whom one looked slightly Middle Eastern, and the other -- looked familiar. Jessica had to think a moment. Then, while walking to the bio-scanning chamber, she remembered: that one was Lori Purdue, the actress who had volunteered to add variety to Lunar Orchard's genetic mix. Miss Purdue had gone to the Moon on the same flight as -- yes, as a former Israeli Mossad agent named Yael Meyerling. _That_ was the Euro- Israeli-looking woman standing with Lori Purdue now. Yael and Lori had both borne daughters to General Director Dong.

Neither Yael, nor Lori, nor the completely unfamiliar youngest woman, did anything to interrupt Doctor Hsing as she applied ultrasound and other methods of searching Jessica's body for any biological hazard. Only after the downfallen politician and unexecuted murderess had been pronounced safe to be admitted to the habitat did Yael give her a slightly malicious smile and say:

"Miss Trevette, I believe you may have heard that Luminessa Tigobo and Faye Miller did not accomplish the administrative turnover that they contemplated for this colony. But don't worry; if one of your own fellow Americans interceded for clemency for you, the Chinese people have no scores to settle with you on _their_ account. In fact, we promise to make your years among us interesting.

"I know that your _primary_ duty was already explained to you. Lori and I serve in a similar capacity only on a part-time basis, admittedly on a smaller scale than you'll be serving; but for what it's worth, our experience argues that you'll be treated pretty mildly. And since it's in the colony's interests that _every_ resident should have more than one skill set, Miss Mavandi here has been assigned to teach you a new alternate line of work which is unconnected with open-heart surgery."

"My name is Najoud Mavandi," said the young Central Asian woman. "I work in mineral extraction. It's really a lot more interesting than it sounds, once you get used to it."

After Najoud had told Jessica more about the technical training that awaited her between times of pleasing the security men, Jessica was shown to her new living quarters. The apartment was private, which the former dictator had not anticipated; but of course, this was not intended for her benefit, it was for the sake of the "guests" she would be receiving for years to come, while her beauty and fertility lasted.

Presently, Lori Purdue also found the opportunity to speak with Jessica. "Miss Trevette, I'm told that you were exempted from execution partly because a Doctor Alipang Havens asked for mercy for you. I happen to be acquainted with his family, going back before the Fairness Revolution."

"That's true about Doctor Havens," Jessica admitted. Her voice revealed no emotion; but being reminded of Alipang at all brought back the awareness which self-pity had been trying to stifle: the awareness that she, Jessica Trevette, _was_ a bloody-handed murderess who totally _deserved_ to be put to death for her deeds.... and that the real reason why she _hadn't_ been put to death was because, though doing it only out of a selfish fear of dying, she _had_ pleaded for mercy in the name of the very same Savior Whom she had dedicated her life to blaspheming.

This realization would not cease to nag at Jessica through the coming years of servitude. The Apostle Paul could have told her it would be so, if he had been permitted to speak to her now. He _was_ watching her from Heaven, reflecting on how the charge of murder could also be brought against him, and how he had been saved from God's wrath.

Saint Paul also reflected on how a certain man called Agrippa had _almost_ been persuaded to follow Jesus. "God, please let it not be 'almost' with this vain, foolish woman. Let her become a trophy for Your saving grace, for the satisfaction of the Christ Who died also for her. And while You're at it, Lord, there are those _other_ people in the Moon colony...."
 
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At their home on the outskirts of the capital of Uganda, Josiah and Melody Redfern had been experiencing some small awkwardness respecting how to accommodate Josiah's test-tube son David and David's lover Vonetta Ashford. It was not that they saw any problem with David having Josiah's genes but not Melody's; Josiah had raised Melody's twin sons Elijah Roy and Isaiah Nick as his own, literally from from their birth, yet they had had a different biological father -- a criminal predator who was long since dead, and good riddance. Nor was there any difficulty over Vonetta being black; Josiah and Melody fully expected that all four of the children they had raised would one day marry black Ugandans. Neither was there a shortage of living space in the Redfern house; Elijah and Isaiah were to all intents grown men on their own, pursuing university degrees, which left their old bedrooms available for use.

The issue was keeping David and Vonetta in _separate_ bedrooms while they stayed at Josiah and Melody's house.

Josiah had spelled it out on the day the young couple had moved in:

"David, Vonetta, understand that Melody and I -- and for that matter, Holly Rose and Alyssa Maria -- do not think of you as BAD persons at all. It's only that you were taught by very bad teachers. Compared to the sort of conduct that was positively _enshrined_ in the Diversity States, your sexual relationship is the very pinnacle of chastity and purity. And we are satisfied that the two of you genuinely and faithfully love each other. Yet when seen from the Scriptural viewpoint, your liaison has not altogether met the ideal. This can be remedied, and Melody and I will be ecstatic to see you getting married in the near future. But this remains MY house, mine and my wife's; and we will have behavior in this house conform to Scripture, as far as our fallible understanding enables us.

"I won't follow you around every day and try to prevent you from doing as you choose when you're _away_ from this house; nor will I bar the house to you if you spend a night together elsewhere. But when you're _here,_ until such time as you are married, any horizontal positions you assume will be assumed separately."

Holly and Alyssa, had their parents known it, were weakening in their own resolve to maintain purity; for they both had their mother's good looks, and local boys had become _very_ interested. But hearing how their father spoke to their new-found half-brother and his girlfriend.... hearing how their he balanced righteous firmness with kindly understanding.... had renewed their own appreciation for the Christian way. Since that time, Josiah had found jobs for both lovers in the administrative offices of the hospital where he was a medical-imagery technologist.

Now, on a day in late October, while Holly and Alyssa were off at basketball practice, and while Josiah, David and Vonetta were working late at the hospital, Melody received surprise visitors: the two men who had shared Josiah's recent adventures in the Diversity States, and their wives. Matti Siermaala's wife Zamoria was proudly pregnant. (Melody and Josiah had heard about this already; the unborn baby was known to be a girl, and was to be named Rauha, a Finnish name.) Brendan Hyland's wife Jennifer, older than Zamoria, already had an abundant brood of sons and daughters, but would not rule out one more; this remained to be seen.

Melody served African beer to her visitors -- except to Zamoria, who opted for herbal tea, to be safe. Then Matti opened the exchange of news:

"It's now confirmed that the Western Enclave Medical University _will_ open regular classes in January! Only, now it will be called the Medical University of New Texas."

Melody smiled one of the huge smiles that her husband loved her for. "That's great! Have they completed that new training-laboratory center?" She was referring to what was to be known as the Barney and Ursula Jamison Memorial Building.

"Yes, it's completed," Zamoria told her. "And, moving right along, Matti will be _teaching_ there! Teaching ultrasound technology, of course."

"Brendan and I will fly over with Matti and Zamoria when they go," said Jennifer. "Our kids with us; only a visit in our case, but a long enough visit to see Alipang and Kim and others we care about."

"And to see Arlington," Brendan added.

His meaning was unclear to the hostess. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry, I guess you didn't hear. The new government of West Liberia has approved the restoration of Arlington Cemetery!"

"I'm still confused," said Melody. "Wasn't the national cemetery destroyed _beyond_ recovery when they built the Jane Fonda Peace College?"

"Sadly, that's true. But as we speak, the Hanoi Jane Treason College is being demolished in its turn. It'll never be possible to restore the cemetery _exactly_ as it was; of course, the Unfairness Party composted the remains of all the heroes buried there. But those men and women are in _God's_ hands, not Karl Marx's hands; and what _can_ be done is to create a memorial park, which will contain various displays and sculptures which honor the departed."

"God be praised. Have you called up Josiah to tell him this?"

"No," Jennifer answered. "We leave it for you to tell him when he gets home."

This led not only to discussion of whether the Redferns might go to see the new Arlington, but also to discussion of how soon David and Vonetta might be tying the knot. Melody assured her visitors, "David only needs to get a _very_ little bit older, and then we expect the wedding to be on."

Brendan nodded. "Yeah, old Fireball was still mighty young when he married Kim, and they've sure turned out well. Given _some_ necessary minimum of maturing in age, what really counts is the commitment to God."

"David and Vonetta are working on that, and Josiah and I are helping them all we can. You know Vonetta was raised right, you remember her parents from Smoky Lake; she just needs to get back to her Christian roots. As for David, you know he has the world's champion worst mother in the Didn't Actually Kill Her Children category. She and that whole regime tried to ruin David on purpose; but by God's grace he still is teachable, very teachable."

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Author's Note: FOR THOSE WHO EVER GET A CHANCE TO READ THE ELIOT GRANHOLM SAGA, THE SIERMAALA FAMILY WILL HAVE DESCENDANTS LIVING ON MARS, THUS FREE FROM THE EARTH-BASED TYRANNY. VOLUME ONE, "JOURNEY OF THE GREY EAGLE," DEPICTS THEM.
 
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On the western face of the Bighorn Range, a convalescent camp had been set up for both combatants and civilians who were out of danger of dying, but needed time to recover from their various injuries. The sheep-raising couple Beltran and Phoebe Ugarte, and the horse-raising couple Blake and Dorcas Hanley, were doing much of the daily work of managing the place; sheep donated by the Ugartes were becoming mutton on the dinner tables, while horses belonging to the Hanleys were doing most of the heavy hauling that became necessary for one reason or another. Evan Rand and his family were shuttling back and forth between this location and the Saint Labre School, since both places were housing persons who had use for physical therapy.

At the Bighorn camp, Dana Pickering Terrell and Iago Carrasco were visiting some of their fellow Forest Rangers who were convalescing here. Dana was pregnant by her deceased husband Mark, though not yet showing. Accompanying Dana, and also convalescing, was Mark's enhanced border collie Whiplash. His broken jaw had been rebuilt by a veterinary surgeon flown in from Texas, but only yesterday had Dana dared to let him try eating food of any more solid consistency than mush. Nonetheless, Whiplash was in good spirits, and as countless dogs before him had done, he cheered up many of the human patients.

Iago, for his part, had brought a guitar. With his accompaniment, Dana had been coaxed into singing; on some numbers, the hearers sang along. Iago resolutely refrained from giving any sign of the sexual attraction he felt for Dana. She was, technically speaking, available now; but besides her bereavement being so recent, there was an air about her -- something Iago couldn't understand or define. It had nothing to do with her being stuck up and snobbish; it seemed to be an aura that she was barely aware of herself. Whatever it was, it wordlessly declared that, even widowed, she had some blessing which stayed with her, and which was greater than anything Iago could have offered her. She was, in short, far out of his league.

Iago respected the memory of Mark Terrell as much as other Forest Rangers did. He certainly would never have tried to steal Dana while Mark was living. And now.... at least there might be an indirect way of trying to find out more about the widow's aura. Because it extended to the border collie.

After they shared lunch with some of the recuperating casualties they had been entertaining, Iago raised his question:

"Dana, what do you make of the way Whiplash has been since losing Mark? He is arguably the smartest dog in the entire world, which suggests to me that he understands death _more_ than other animals can understand it. And there can't be any doubt of how much he loved his master. Yet he seems to have grieved _less_ than any dog I ever knew that lost its owner. And from time to time, he looks right up into the sky and wags his tail, as if he could actually _see_ someone looking down on him. How do you account for that?"

Dana simultaneously smiled, and shed tears. "I account for it in the simplest and most obvious way. Whiplash _actually_ sees Mark looking down on him, and probably even hears him talking, in a voice we can't hear."

Iago wasn't very surprised that she would give this answer, but he was surprised at how moved he felt by it. "That would be a beautiful thing to be able to believe; but what would you say to someone who dismissed it as wishful thinking?"

"I would say, first, that my dog here never went to any church to be indoctrinated that he should _expect_ supernatural revelations. Yet he _does_ behave as if Mark were up there talking to him. And second, I myself was even _less_ indoctrinated to expect miracles. I only became a believer since meeting the Havens family; and for many years before that, I was completely immersed in an atheism as dogmatic as any religion ever was. Materialism and scoffing had their fair chance with me, and they failed to provide answers for life, answers to what a human heart longs for. So I don't feel the least bit foolish for letting faith have its chance."

"And faith works how? The stuff that Biblicals say always seemed to me like saying that I should be able to pick myself up by the back of the neck and hold myself out at arm's length. I mean, I don't see how you can even _start_ believing in all these ever-so-conveniently unseen mysteries."

These words were scarcely out of Iago's mouth before he was taken aback by the way _Whiplash_ reacted. The border collie snapped his head upward as if hearing a sudden and unexpected call; he kept looking up for a moment longer; and then he looked straight at Iago, and seemed to be laughing.

Dana, not noticing the dog's action, said to her human comrade, "I'll agree with you that there have been Biblicals -- before our government gagged and hogtied them -- who would browbeat people with shouts that they _must_ believe whatever the Biblicals preached, believe it right out of thin air, before being given ANY sort of reason to believe it. But as Kimberly Havens helped me to realize, it is possible to start with some things we CAN see, then work outward and upward from those. Consider love itself. When you boil away sex, shared practical interests, mutual protection and mutual gain, there still is something _more_ to love, something that isn't so easy to explain away. Think about the satisfaction you feel at having brightened the day for people at this camp; you didn't get sex, money, political power, or career advancement out of it, yet it feels good in itself. Doesn't it?"

"Of course it does." Iago still disciplined himself NOT to say that part of the enjoyment of the day came from being around Dana; but he could at least begin to understand that this intangible _other_ satisfaction might be real as well.

"Then I'll pray that God sends you more clues about His existence and His ways. Surely you realize that your own first name is a version of Jacob, the Biblical patriarch. Jacob also had to go through a lot before he understood God, but he arrived in the end."
 
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I wrote this post when I thought the story would be shorter than 2025 has revealed it to be.

Epilogue: Only A Breathing Space

Alipang still was absorbing two realities. One reality was that he and all his household were free now to leave the former Western Enclave if _they_ chose, not needing a special dispensation. The other was that he had a brother-in-law who was only about as old as his own second child.

Javier Zapata, the late-in-life son of Kim's mother Elizabeth by her new husband, had been enjoying Alipang's company during the flight east. The JET flight east. Since what had been the contiguous United States was now completely under the authority of what the United Nations considered correct ethnic groups, Greater China had withdrawn its opposition to jet-propelled aircraft operating in this airspace.

Alipang told the boy stories of his adventures as a Grange huntsman. Apart from the narrow escape at the airport in Argentina when the Venezuelan-backed coup had occurred, Javier had mostly led a sheltered life until now, so he had to have Alipang explain to him what bows and arrows were. For his part, considering that people refusing to face facts was what had _allowed_ the Fairness Party to stage its own coup in 2021, Alipang did not sugar-coat the purpose of the weapons he had wielded.

This didn't mean that Alipang would be disappointed if he never needed to use a deadly weapon against human beings again.

At the same time, Emilio Vasquez was finding no shortage of interested hearers for his own adventures using an innovative anti-gravity device. This gift from India which had so greatly helped him, and which he was now allowed to speak about, had been much on his mind in the aftermath of battle and victory. He understood that it simply _blocked_ the Earth's gravity; he wondered if one day science would go farther, achieving an ability to _generate_ gravity at will.

Almost a quarter of all seats on the passenger plane seemed to be occupied by one extended family, if one counted persons who had been added on by bonds of love and kindness. Thus, Lorraine Sloane Kramer Verble Sloane Kramer Shao and her still-recuperating husband Bill were on the plane, and with them was a twelve-year-old girl named Roxanne Baylor: a child well known to the Havens family, whose parents had been killed in the Aztlano invasion. Lorraine and Bill had become Roxanne's guardians. Lorraine's son Ransom was also on board; his new Amish leaders had decided, just this once, not to object to his traveling on a jet. His fiancee Lydia Reinhart, however, had stayed behind in Wyoming.

Among others on board were Frodo Von Spock and Gerbil Sunderberg, the two eccentric fellows whom the Havens family had taken under its wing. The latter had by now grown accustomed to the artificial arm and leg which had been given to him. Alipang had especially wanted them to come to Arlington, as living symbols of recovery from the rot which had infected America. Lorraine managed to discipline herself not to be distressed by the sight of Mister Sunderberg, since it was _true_ (verified in the course of extensive recent investigations) that he had been forced, by a threat of death to his own loved ones, to assist in the murders of Wilson and Quinn Kramer.

A pair of seats all the way to the rear were occupied by Wilson Havens, namesake of the departed Naval hero, and his non-blood cousin Cecilia Ruth Salisbury, namesake of the Havens matriarch. If these two early-teenagers kissed rather frequently during the trip, with hugs filling much of the time between kisses, their elders appeared not to notice. Perhaps those elders were too busy marveling at a John Wayne movie being shown as they flew.

Dan and Chilena Salisbury stood out to the eye by wearing clothing with American-flag patterns. Although the United States as such was not being restored, favorable _memories_ of what it had meant were no longer frowned on. Dan made self-kidding jokes to Chilena, about the idea of remaking some of John Wayne's movies, with Dan as -- the comedy relief. One thing they would _never_ do again was to act in a Revised Shakespeare play.

The elder Cecilia, grandmother to the Cecilia who was sneaking kisses with Wilson, had her attention fixed on three persons: her infant grandchildren Doug Vasquez and Peggy Havens, whom she held alternately, and her husband Eric, whom she worried about constantly. Touched though she was by the efforts of Tommy and Esperanza in constructing a crude artificial hand for Eric, Cecilia was afraid that it might suddenly fall off of Eric's arm. But Eric was adamantly resolved that he would not even _inquire_ into getting a more permanent prosthesis until his current one had been seen in public on the East Coast. "I owe it to Tommy and Esperanza to let their work be seen when we attend the Arlington reopening ceremony. I don't think anyone will need my services as a dentist sooner than that."

"So you won't feel strange," Cecilia whispered _very_ quietly, "holding a _spoon_ over your heart when the cemetery flag is raised?"

"Not in the least, darling. I'll be doing it for all the _other_ combat veterans who lost body parts in the fight against evil."

Eventually, the captain of the airliner announced their approach to Baltimore-Washington Airport. Kimberly Havens, seated on one side of her husband while Javier sat in the privileged window seat on the other side of Alipang, whispered in her husband's ear, "That's where you landed as a boy, on your way to settle in Smoky Lake and then to meet me!"

Alipang's reply to this was not complicated: he simply kissed Kim very long and very well.
 
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A happy surprise awaited the extended Havens family in the Bal-Wash concourse: the entire Brendan Hyland family was there to greet them, having come in from Nigeria only hours previous.

"Happy birthday, Al!" shouted Brendan as he ran to meet his boyhood friend. "I just missed it by mere days. Do you remember seeing me off here as a Marine bound for Afghanistan?"

"I sure do. And you can be sure I had a _happy_ birthday. The month of November in general is more bearable for me now," replied Alipang while hugging Brendan hard. "I've survived enough Wyoming winters, that nothing the Mid-Atlantic coast can offer will ever seem quite as cold anymore."

Jennifer Hyland, meanwhile, facilitated her five children getting acquainted with the small army of offspring comprised in the Havens-Tisdale-Salisbury-Vasquez clan. The son of Alipang and Kim who was Brendan Hyland's namesake asked, "Mrs. Hyland, have you seen Daffy? I miss him, he was funny."

"I'm afraid we don't get to see him in Onitsha," Jennifer told him. "But we do get news from Mister Redfern in Uganda; he says Daffy is doing well."

Jennifer was taken aback when she noticed Eric Havens' temporary prosthesis; but when she heard the story behind it, she praised Esperanza and Tommy for their achievement.

None of the Hylands remarked on the attachment now formed between Wilson Havens and Cecilia Ruth Salisbury. Wilson and Cecilia gave them no cause to comment; they were not yet ready to begin the endless task they were anticipating, the task of telling people everywhere they went, "We're not _blood_ cousins, only through an _adoptive_ connection."

Brendan had a further surprise for Alipang: "I'm aware that you and other exiles who had tracking chips in your bodies have gotten them removed. Are you ready to accept an electronic device that works _outside_ your body?"-- and he handed Alipang a dataphone of the very latest model.

Alipang's eyes, not large normally, became large for a moment. "Oh wow, I've forgotten how to use one of these! Unless it has a rotary dial."

"No rotary dial," Brendan laughed. "But it has a direct cerebral feed with instructions for use. It reads DNA, monitors life signs, checks voiceprints for lie detection, measures air pressure and wind speed when you're outdoors, detects metals within a nine-meter radius, and even has a hologram function."

Alipang shook his head. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"The Filipino Fireball can handle it. Only, for your children's sake, try never to lose the frontiersman aura you've developed."

"Considering what 'sophisticated' urban types did to America," Kim interjected, "I promise you that we'll hang on to our pioneer spirit."

"And the Mexican Alliance will encourage you in it, assuming you stay in Wyoming," said Brendan. "If you move back to Virginia, you'll find that African Union jurisdiction, by way of Liberia, will _also_ respect your individualism."

"Funny that you mention that choice," Alipang told him. "Kim and I and the others _aren't_ sure yet what we'll do. I'm still absorbing the fact that we even _have_ a choice. Like when Summer and Evan were discharged from the Self-Esteem Centers: they had to tell themselves again and again that they _were_ discharged. How strange, that confinement can start to seem normal."

Kim kissed her husband. "Being in the Enclave WAS normal, compared to the way the Fairness Party made everyone live in the country at large. But that's all changing now."

Alipang kissed her back, then looked at Brendan again. "She's right about that. But she also makes me think of another strange thing. After all these years, it has become possible once more for the _word_ 'change' to mean something _other_ than fraud and enslavement."

Brendan nodded. "And who knows? Maybe next, the word 'forward' will once more be able to mean something other than going down the toilet."
 
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Brendan and Jennifer's son John-Paul suddenly turned from chatting with the Havens and Salisbury children to say, "Doctor Havens?"

Without having any thought of duplicating a scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Eric Havens and Alipang Havens responded in unison: "Yes?" The youngsters laughed.

"Um, sorry," John-Paul stammered. "I guess either of you would know the answer to my question. My Dad told us about that old newspaperman in Wyoming who had the terrible cancer, but was helped by the scientist my Dad escorted. Is he all right?"

Alipang yielded place to his father, who told the youth, "Yes, Miguel De Soto is in better shape than we dared to hope. It appears now that he will finally be able to receive the latest in anti-cancer treatment; but even without that, he's in a very good remission."

"Will he be at the rededication ceremony in Arlington?"

"No, he and Tilly are having consultations at the same hospital where your father was a patient after he was flown back from Afghanistan with his eye missing."

"However," Cecilia the Elder added, "They'll be able to watch the event on streamcast: a far cry from anything the Collective Network and the Oneness Channel would have shown in their day."

A new voice, a deep female voice, interjected: "And the voice-overs will be different from the Fairness Party media as well!" It was the voice of Denise Heathcock, formerly known as Dynamo Earthquake, now known as a child of the Living God through faith in Jesus Christ. She shook hands all around, starting with Alipang. "It's good to see all of you free again. And it's good to have the Holy Spirit living inside me, letting me know what IS good!"

She turned her attention to Brendan. "Lieutenant Hyland, have you heard the result of your special request yet?"

"Not yet, Miss Heathcock; nor have I even told Al and the rest what my request was."

With a movement of her head and eyes, the heavyset woman urged Brendan to go ahead and tell it now. So Brendan did.

"Al, everybody: at least some of you will remember my describing the ceremony we expats held in Onitsha, bringing various mementoes of departed American servicemembers to a memorial site. Now that Arlington Cemetery is being restored as far as possible, I submitted a chit, requesting that some of us be allowed to stage a similar ceremony on the premises. Some former Air Force officers have scrounged an airtight container that a lot of small mementoes can be contained in, and buried like a time capsule."

Denise laid a friendly hand on Brendan's shoulder. "And I have the pleasure of informing you that the provisional government has approved your request, everything you asked for. Your presentation will be made one of the main features of the overall streamcast. The African Union hasn't forgotten how much you and others like you did to halt the Neo-Marxist and Islamist invasions; and the few remaining American journalists with any integrity know that you deserve some compensation for the way Reltseotu Smith maliciously lied about you and your troops.

"Oh, and speaking of journalists with integrity: I'm also able to inform you that Miguel De Soto -- AND his wife Tilly, since she has so many experiences she can tell -- are both going to be offered jobs as commentators in one of the new media networks that will be formed. They'll be able to set their own pace in this; but since Mister De Soto looks like being with us for at least another five active years and then living to retire, my money says that audiences will be seeing plenty of the De Sotos."

Further questions and answers ensued, all in a cheerful spirit. Dan Salisbury was made to remember the post-climax chapters of The Return of the King, in which the long-solemn Gandalf had felt free to laugh again since the demon Sauron had perished. Eventually, Alipang came up with a question for his highschool pal.

"Do you have any special mementoes of your own to add to the time capsule?"

"Yes, I do. Some of them are to honor men I've served with in Africa, but others memorialize Americans I knew when I was younger. There's one item that Josiah Redfern sent along with me for this event: a photograph of his Army buddy, Pablo Alvarez, who died saving Josiah's life in Iraq. But here's the item which will mean the most to most of you standing here;" and Brendan held out an open hand. Resting on his palm was a small plastic beverage bottle, its label seeming to identify a pre-revolutionary "smart drink."

Alipang stared at the small object, sensing that Brendan was testing whether he would realize what it was. And Alipang soon did realize.

"Oh! That's the 'vitamin-rich energy drink, perfectly legal!' It's what Wilson Kramer gave you so you'd be alert at the very start of Marine boot camp! Or one like it?"

"It's the very same identical bottle," Brendan assured him. "They permitted me to place it among the personal effects being put in storage for me."

Ransom Kramer had not said much during the talk with the Hylands and Denise Heathcock, though he had answered some questions from Denise about his Amish commitment. Now, though, he drew close to Brendan, staring at the little plastic bottle. "My Mom said something about this one time.... So it was my Dad who gave you that bottle?"

"Yes, it was he, giving me both an energy drink and a helping of wise advice."

Ransom assumed a pleading look -- sincere, not theatrical. "Please, Mister Hyland, could *I* have that bottle? My Mom and I were prevented from having ANY keepsakes of my Dad. With Mom having a new husband, I would be the natural one to keep it, and no one in the Amish community would think of a juice bottle as improperly warlike. Please?"

Brendan did not hesitate. "Your father was a truly noble man -- a word we seldom hear anymore. I'm sure he'll be more pleased for you to have this, although there wouldn't have been time for him to mention it when you paid your short visit to Heaven. It's yours."

Accepting the token of the father whose love he had known for so short a time, Ransom thrust it deep into a pocket, then hugged the older man fiercely, neither able nor particularly anxious to prevent his tears from flowing.

And, in that joyful other dimension, Ransom's big brother Quinn said, "You were right, Dad, Brendan did give him the bottle."
 
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Surprises were not exhausted for the day. A helium-filled airship was standing by to transport the party from the international airport to the former site of the Jane Fonda Peace College, and waiting alongside it were Lieutenant-Colonel Yang Sung-Kuo of Greater Chinese Internal Affairs, his wife Tupsim, and their daughters Ting-Ba, Ting-Ju and Ting-Lao. Ting-Ba, the eldest, looked to be about the same age as Cecilia Salisbury.

Alipang sprinted out in front of his family to embrace his Chinese friend and now fellow Christian. This left plenty of other adults and children to greet Yang's wife and daughters.

"How is your armored skin holding up?" asked Yang Sung-Kuo.

"Right now, all of it is attached. I shed the outer skin of right hand and foot after the invasion; those grew back, and the opposite extremities with neck and inner thighs fell off; then the reverse again; and now I expect the larger shedding to occur again about four days from now. By now, my children have stopped making reptile jokes about me. But what brings you here, brother?"

"A matter of respect. Some in Beijing have attained enough wisdom to consider that maybe the world _hasn't_ been better off without the United States of America. Although the United States by that _name_ is not returning. it may be that good things will emerge from the _spirit_ of your former nation being welcomed back."

Standing within hearing of her husband and his Filipino friend, Tupsim half-whispered, "And maybe _other_ spirits as well. There are noises these days about granting autonomy to the Vietnamese; and those within Vietnam who are seeking this are very different from Ho Chi Minh and his old gang."

John-Paul Hyland, meanwhile, was showing every sign of being charmed by Miss Yang Ting-Ba, while Esperanza Havens and other girls were chattering with Ting-Ju and Ting-Lao. The crew of the dirigible presently shepherded everyone on board, and the Yang family seated itself in a manner that scattered them among the rest.

Harmony and Terrance kept slightly aloof, sitting together and saying little. This was not a matter of unfriendliness toward company; rather, as Kim explained to Tupsim, it was a matter of Terrance not yet being finished grieving for the death of Jillian Forrester, and Harmony was being his metaphorical shoulder. They were still sitting there for more than an hour after everyone else went to bed, now finding much more to talk about.
 
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They all arrived at the tract of land which, until very recently, had been the campus of the Jane Fonda Peace College, whose main curriculum had been all about absolute submission to totalitarian rulers. They encountered a volunteer guide, a man who wore an old United States Navy enlisted winter dress uniform, complete with classic white sailor hat. This man, with a gleam in his eye, informed them of the fate of several bronze statues taken from the campus upon the demolition of the classroom buildings. A statue of the pro-Communist actress was being melted down, its metal to be used in making trash receptacles. Other statues, of subjects including Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez, would contribute their metal to a new quarter-size replica of the Statue of Liberty. The original Statue of Liberty had been destroyed the day after Jessica Trevette had begun her administration.

Alipang and those with him were on time to listen to the speeches of rededication for Arlington. These speeches were delivered within sight of a holograph device which was displaying what a planned monument was going to look like. When completed, this monument would preserve (as far as they had been recovered) the names of all the deceased whose remains had rested in Arlington Cemetery until it was desecrated by the Fairness Party. Every person speaking from the platform was a man or woman who had both served in the United States armed forces, and survived being a political prisoner of the Diversity States. With the approval of the new Western Liberian government, this part of the proceedings concluded with a nostalgic singing of "God Bless the U.S.A."

From there, Brendan and Jennifer led the way to the spot where the time-capsule ceremony was to take place, also conducted by American military veterans. Alipang had an item of his own to add to the keepsakes of departed heroes: an item he had retrieved from the outskirts of the ruined city of Casper. It was the revolver that had been used in battle by Buck Washburn, one of the many Texas Rangers who had given their lives defending against the Aztlano invasion of the Western Enclave.

When all formalities were done, and the travellers felt they could converse more casually, Chilena heard Kim's sister Baeline asking Kim about the material losses borne by the Havens household in Casper. "Papa Havens and Mama Havens lost nearly everything but their skins," Kim replied; "but when Papa Havens assumes his post on the faculty of the new medical university, they'll have on-campus living quarters."

Chilena stepped up, spontaneously hugged Baeline, and added, "At least one item they used to have can be remade. Years ago, Al carved a wooden placard for Dad with a Shakespeare quotation: 'For there was never yet philosopher / That could endure a toothache patiently.' Al is going to make another placard just like it for Dad, only with a correction. I told him that the line was 'endure THE toothache patiently,' not 'endure A toothache patiently.' So for once, I got to correct my brother, instead of the other way around."

Alipang, meanwhile, was being confronted by someone who seemed to believe SHE could correct him. It was none other than a ravishingly beautiful woman whom Alipang would have been delighted never to see again on Earth: Samantha Ford, once an ambassador-at-large. Alipang and Kim had already heard that Samantha had been transferred to a line of work where she was likely to do less damage: a laundress at Bethesda Hospital. But right now she had time off.

"Miss Ford!" exclaimed Alipang. "Have you suddenly developed nostalgia for a time when people were allowed to vote on things?"

"Never fear," said Kim, standing alongside her husband with Baby Peggy in her arms; "actual elections will be returning now. You're overjoyed at that, I'm sure."

Samantha glared at Kim for an instant, seeming to mutter something about "fluking breeders;" then she addressed Alipang. "I heard you were here. Do you even think about the fact that you're only alive because of the biological improvement which THE FAIRNESS PARTY gave you?"

Alipang looked at his hands. "I grant you, Miss Ford, that the skin-armor helped me. I can't say whether I would have died without it. That was in the hands of the God, yes, God the FATHER, Whom you don't want to believe in."

"Gutflak!" Samantha cried, stepping closer to get in Alipang's face. "You think that your bourgeois theocratic racist male-chauvinist corporate system has come out on top. Well, I'm here to advise you that persons like me will still be fearlessly speaking truth to power!"

"In your effort to regain the power to silence truth," Alipang retorted. "But you're right about the 'fearlessly' part. Since you know that none of us gathered here would ever do you violence just for insulting us verbally, you are indeed fearless in your empty pretense of bravery."

"Well, just you remember," snarled the man-hater who had tried to make her own son a world-champion wimp, "there was also a short minor setback for the cause of economic justice and relational diversity just _before_ the Fairness Revolution. We're going to be back; you'll live to see it. Women of peace and tolerance will _crush_ your diversophobic church-Nazi system! You'll see!"

Kim whispered an impish suggestion in her husband's ear. Following the suggestion, Alipang moved so fast that Samantha couldn't even try to evade him. Gently capturing Samantha's face between his powerful hands, he suddenly gave her a light but well-aimed kiss on the lips, then released her. Shrieking with rage, Samantha tried to punch him in the face, but he caught her fist with ease. His face the soul of innocence, Alipang said, "Why, Miss Ford, you're more conservative than I imagined!" Having to pause to block her attempt to give him the knee, he then whirled her around and went on: "I respect you for not wanting me, a married man, to kiss another woman. There's hope for you yet!"

"It's all right, Al," Kim put in. "When you kissed her, you _weren't_ kissing a woman, just a robot."

Alipang allowed Samantha to storm off indignantly, just as if it _hadn't_ been herself who came to pick a quarrel. He then faced his wife, who adjusted the baby's position so she could embrace her husband. "Since it was my idea for you to kiss her, I have a duty to suffer with you any poison that you picked up that way." She kissed Alipang at some length, while their son Wilson was coming up wondering what had just happened with the Ford woman.

"What was that all about, Papa?"

Kim broke the kiss, allowing Wilson's father to answer the question. "Miss Ford was just being a sore loser, so your mother and I were being a bit sarcastic in reply."

Kim said, "She flatters herself that she and her sisters in heterophobia can turn back the clock and re-establish the tyranny we just got liberated from."

Wilson didn't consider this any laughing matter. "But what if they really DO bring it back?"

Alipang stretched forth a hand to pat his son's shoulder. "That's a subject we've discussed as a family for years already. We're going to stay the course; we'll fight against evil as if it were possible to defeat it, and trust God to deal with whatever is beyond our power."

Kim turned to kiss her son's cheek. "Son, remember that just by _being_ the gallant young Christian man you are, you're winning a victory over snakes like Samantha Ford."

Wilson hugged his mother. "So we'll take whatever victories we can get."

Thrilled with pride in his boy, Alipang said, "And our Savior will plan the victory celebration for us."




THIS IS THE END OF
"The Possible Future of Alipang Havens!"

NO, MAKE THAT THE END OF THIS VOLUME OF ALIPANG'S HISTORY. ​
 
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As I am seeking to get the original Alipang Havens novel officially published, so I hope to publish Possible Future. But it grew so long in the writing that, with my intent to add a bit more besides (largely to insert the real discussion of adult subjects which I could barely touch on here), it needs breaking up.

What has been one long near-future novel will be split into two volumes. From the start, up through Alipang's non-violent rescue of Daffodil/David, will be "Volume One: Freedom Inside A Prison." The title for Volume Two is pending. What I plan further to write on this thread will be called The Lively Autumn of Alipang Havens, and it will be Volume Three. Thus, the original Alipang Havens novel will be to the near-future stories as The Hobbit is to Lord of the Rings.
 
In "Possible Future," Eric Havens is old enough that *I* could play him in a movie, if a movie were made soon. Not likely, since I refuse to pretend in my story that all evil arises from Christianity and free enterprise. Oh, well.

Yes, yes, that "Lively Autumn" title-concept has been discarded >AS< a title; but in this third decade of the century, I am following the >plotline< I already had in mind.
 
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* * * * ADDRESSING THE READERS: Some of you must have noticed that, if a long series of novels is written about the same ongoing ensemble of characters, the author sometimes gets around to adding short stories which fill in gaps in the saga. I call these "interquels." To fill in some of the _time_ before I'm ready to start the final (?) Alipang Havens volume, I am going to insert an interquel which belongs in the continuity.

In "Possible Future," one of the characters in "the secret army" is a former New York police detective named Danny Alyard. Like Alipang Havens and Josiah Redfern, Danny is a hero who first came into being as a character played by me in text-based roleplay. As a New York City patrolman, he deserved a promotion to detective, but was unjustly blocked from it because he blew the whistle on a corrupt and crooked superior in his precinct. Only after passing the age of forty still in uniform did he get to do some really impressive heroics, which belatedly gained him his detective's badge.

Danny's heroics included getting badly wounded while saving the lives of the children of an African-American single mother named Tashonda, who up till then had had nothing but bad luck with men. But by the time Danny crossed her path, Tashonda had committed her life to Jesus -- which made the _Christian_ policeman all the more a knight in shining armor to her. Completely ignoring both racial difference and age difference, Tashonda relentlessly pursued her hero. Her son and daughter also took to the man who had rescued them from a crossfire, and the sincerity of mother and children awoke in him exactly the response Tashonda was hoping for. So they got married, which delighted Danny's friends on the force, as they knew how long he had _wished_ for a woman who would love him wholeheartedly. Tashonda eventually bore a son [/i]to Danny, though Tashonda's _first_ son is the one who appears in "Possible Future" under the name of Jackson Alyard.

The story I will soon be posting takes place in Manhattan in 2009; call it early summer. This is only something like two months after the wedding of Danny and Tashonda; and, as you will see, the action of this story occurs on someone _else's_ wedding day. Note that there will be a reference also to my character Josiah Redfern. For the record, I imagine Danny Alyard as looking like Dan Ackroyd, Josiah Redfern as resembling Kiefer Sutherland, and Tashonda as looking like the singer Mandisa.

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OKAY, NOW THERE SHALL BE SPACE TO INSERT MORE PLOT ACTION, COMPATIBLE WITH MY STORY ADJUSTMENTS.

Setting? The original nation of Liberia, meaning >in< Africa. People? Some New Yorkers from that little- remembered roleplay, who have not otherwise been accounted for. Definitely including Ranjit Karkal and his wife Josephine. We find the travelers being welcomed in Monrovia, the Liberian capital, by First Lieutenant Clive Passworthy of the Liberian National Guard--also an agent of the secret army.

"Welcome to the old Pepper Coast!" exclaimed Is one of you Poc Sang Tran?"

"Over here. And there's the Subcontinental Christian, Ranjit Karkal, with his white-New-Yorker wife Josephine."

Passworthy drew near. "Mister Karkal, do you feel equal to conducting an exorcism?"

"Upon whom?" asked Ranjit.

"Upon a fellow Indian, a woman calling herself Indira Payam."

==== ==== ==== ==== ====

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/ MORE OF THIS SITUATION IN A LATER POST.
 
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Two Guests Outside the Wedding
(not in direct sequence with the post immediately above this)

This vignette remains in my plot-canon, but let's consider it a flashback. It may have been accidentally duplicated by my describing elsewhere how Danny prevents a tragic shooting. That's what I get when trying to update unfinished material in autumn of 2025.

Detective Danny Alyard, N.Y.P.D., wasn't actually talking into his cellphone. His holding the inactive cellphone beside his ear was giving him an excuse to go on sitting on the bench across from the church. The phone he was using as a prop was in fact an old one, out of commission. Thus, if he were to have to spring up and go into action all in an instant, letting the old phone fall to the pavement as he went for his gun would be no loss.

Danny's Vietnamese-American partner, Detective Trung Tinh, called "Tin Man" by other detectives because he was unemotional, was not with Danny. Danny was off duty. His wife Tashonda was at home; Danny would _rather_ have been at home also -- but he had been _called_ to be here.

Other veteran cops on the force would make Blues Brothers jokes about Danny being "on a mission from God;" but none of them could deny that Danny's intuitions had a scary way of being right. Only, this time no details came with the hunch. Danny only knew that he needed to be here. Not _attending_ the wedding that was in progress, but standing watch _outside_ the church.

It was the first time Danny had ever staked out a church, unless a couple of perverted cults counted as churches. Danny had not told the pastor. Poor old Conrad Flaherty had enough on his plate, trying to keep some people attending his church in a Manhattan full of materialistic cynics. Of course, if Conrad had changed all of his sermons to nothing but "Love yourself" messages, he would be having an easier time; but Conrad preached the actual gospel of Jesus. A rough trail to walk downtown, though of course not as difficult as the job facing storefront missions in the ghettoes. But those places tended to have _young_ pastors; at Conrad's age, no one had a right to expect him to look for an even _more_ difficult mission field for himself.

And miracles did happen. One miracle was standing inside that church right now, wearing a tuxedo and getting lawfully married to a hauntingly beautiful young woman. A young woman raised as a _Hindu,_ no less.

Lolita Kali's parents had given her a Western-type first name, but the family atmosphere otherwise was identical with the better neighborhoods of New Delhi. Lolita had been a student at a pretty decent private college... where the man in the tuxedo taught philosophy. Or rather, taught Marxism _disguised_ as philosophy. Lowell Sanders, undeservedly handsome and undeservedly popular, had gotten away many times with trading "favors" from female students for good grades. When Professor Sanders took an interest in Lolita, the only noticeable change from his pattern had been a significant one: Lolita _wasn't_ in any class of his, which meant he had no power over her. God knew how, but Sanders had prevailed upon the "poor little rich girl" to fall in love with him.... and wonder of wonders, he seemed _actually_ to love her in return.

Josiah Redfern, the gallant war veteran, despised Sanders; but as a matter of pure principle he had supported Lolita's right to marry the man she chose. Josiah had no horse in the race, having already found and married _his_ dream girl, but he _did_ have a stake in defending the freedoms of his nation. (Remember, this is taking place _before_ the creation of the Diversity States.)

That was a long story; but Danny was here, on a fine day when he should have been with his loving family, for the purpose of _preventing_ the philosophy professor's story from being suddenly cut short.

And... the... threat... was...

THERE. Danny knew it. That African-American woman, late twenties by the look of her, so gorgeous she could have made Halle Berry envious. She was the threat. She was of an age that she could have been a student at Sanders' current college within the time since Sanders had taken the job there. And she was glowering toward Conrad Flaherty's church.

The Holy Spirit had told Danny that he needed to be here. Danny's police instincts told him.... that the woman was carrying. The gun was almost certainly inside that purse.

She passed by the church. But that didn't make it a false alarm. It was timing. Yes, she had looked at a watch. She would unquestionably double back when her chosen moment was near. Since she _hadn't_ simply charged at the church door, she was probably waiting for the newlyweds to emerge.

Danny's eyes swept the front of the building that the church was built into. The actual church was two flights up; if the woman with the gun had any notions of escaping, she wouldn't want to have to race back down those stairs. Danny picked his spot on the church's side of the street, the spot where he would intercept the woman.

Her face had been seething with poorly-disguised hate. Knowing Professor Sanders' reputation, it was not hard at all to guess the likely reason. And as recently as three months ago, Danny would scarcely have felt a twinge of sadness if Sanders _had_ been shot dead by some girl he had used. But as a Christian, Danny knew that the grace of Christ could transform even a lowlife like Lowell Sanders. And Danny intended to give Sanders time to bear fruit that would befit repentance.

He crossed to his chosen position.

Two minutes later, the angry woman came into sight again. Returning. That purse held where she could quickly get at what was in it, a point of no return.
 
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Danny's combination of spiritual sensitivity and well-refined police instincts gave him an estimate of how long he could wait to act, before the young black woman would realize that he _was_ looking intently at her. Danny knew the routine she might resort to then, if hers was the sort of personality to resort to it: "Racism! Profiling! Harassment! You're after me for Walking While Black!"

Danny's ingrained patience and empathy had recently enabled him to get past this kind of defense mechanism in the case of a troubled young man called Nate Vendez. Nate, in fact, was becoming virtually a member of the Alyard family. It had not hurt matters for Nate to see that Danny, a white man, was married to a _black_ woman.

But this woman, her face fierce as a hailstorm under the thundercloud of her massive ringleted hair, was not going to give Danny time to earn her confidence by slow stages.

His brain and spirit concurred on the distance at which he must act, or else forget the whole thing -- and then maybe _have_ to shoot the young woman, if she did after all draw a gun. She was two paces from the invisible dividing line when Danny noticed another detail: her left hand was making the opening atop her purse wider, which would facilitate her right hand getting inside for her weapon and yanking it out unobstructed.

Danny drew something else as smoothly as he expected the woman to draw the gun. What he drew was simply his badge. The presence of the Spirit of God was growing stronger within him; he _knew_ that he was doing the right thing.

"Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Daniel Alyard, N.Y.P.D. May I ask you a question?"

The beauty of her mouth was marred by the filthy words that emerged from it; but mixed with her obscenities was a grudging consent to his questioning her.

"Please tell me: do you know anyone in the church that meets in this building?"

"Maybe I do;" then more crude language.

"Then is that the reason why you're waiting for your chosen moment to draw the handgun you're carrying inside that purse?"
 
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The young woman visibly teetered on a mental tightrope. Half of her was afraid, the other half enraged. Half of her understood that what she came to do was excessive, the other half wanted to reject anything Danny said solely because Danny was a white male. Danny, though, was neither afraid nor enraged; and it was the very calmness of his voice which took hold of the woman and steadied her on her tightrope.

"Miss, if I were the stereotyped white supremacist that you're trying to believe I am, I would have approached you with my weapon already drawn. Because you are carrying, aren't you?"

Her mouth ignored her effort to swell up with self-righteous resentment. Her mouth answered "Yes."

"And it's because of Lowell Sanders, isn't it?"

The purse with the gun sank lower, away from her right hand. "Yes."

"He had you as a student, and he demanded that you please him if you wanted to pass his philosophy course, one of the requisite credits for your degree. Right?"

Her jaw now also sank. "How did you know?"

"I've had my eye on Professor Sanders since long before I made detective. One night, a freshman girl named Tanya Bronislavsky attempted suicide on the front steps of his apartment building. My partner Jack Chang and I saw her, passed out from a bottle of sleeping pills, and rendered first aid in time to save her life."

"I think I heard of Tanya! Sanders did her the way he did me, I bet."

"That's what Jack and I thought at first. But investigation showed that Sanders was innocent in _that_ case. Tanya had a crush on him, but he did nothing to exploit her. In fact, out of appreciation for her admiration of him, I hear that he gave her an A in his course _without_ expecting anything in return. I tell you this just to say that even someone who is a jerk might not be AS bad as we think."

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Present time, as in twenty twenty-five, sees me still at work blending plot arcs and trying to reconcile contradictions. I'm close to being all done with characters and elements from that obscure New York-based roleplay.


 
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