Another delegate. What you’re really saying is that because of what you claim we’ve done to the planet, we’re to be punished by living in holes in the ground!
Richard stepped up. “Not at all. If we could live as the Earthen, the planet would not be in such trouble. You’ve met our commune members. Did they seem upset, feel as if they were being punished?”
If we are not being punished, what do you call living underground?
Mister Amwell, up till now no humans have been asked—no, forced-- to live like worms or moles. There’s no precedent for such treatment and, sooner or later, we’ll rebel and revolt and then you’ll have—
“Wait, sir!” Richard had to shout over the grumbling agreement around the man. “You want precedents? How about war? Millions of young men forced against their will to fight and even kill other young men they had no grudge against. The Church. Once a week you’re made to sit for hours reciting prayers, listening to stories that put you to sleep, or kiss a rug five times a day or you won’t go to heaven, a place no one’s ever seen, or you’re forced to wear an orange jump suit and chant just one song as you go begging.”
Laughter from the stands as Richard stepped down.
What about the criminals who broke out of the prisons and now occupy the cities? Will they be welcome in your little villages underground same as law-abiding citizens?
Anne said, “No, ma’am, they will not. They will be dealt with, deported probably. But they will not be welcome in the new American Society.”
What’s going to happen to our homes, then?
“That’s for Article Two. Any more questions for Article One?” She was hoping get through One without any serious stumbling blocks.
Ma’am, I’m from Texas, and our cattle provide the finest prime beef. I employ seventeen cow-hands and forty quarter horses. Are we all supposed to live in caves like this’n and climb up ever day to tend our thirty thousand acres of grazing land?
“That too will be dealt with later. Any more thoughts about living in safe and comfortable ‘holes in the ground?’” No one stood, or seemed to want to speak, nor was there a hint of reaction for Anne’s stab at humor. “I suppose what you are really asking is . . . why on earth must we live below it? Richard can speak with some authority on the subject, having a son whose passion is biology.”
Anne stepped down and Richard moved up as he dug into his open file case.
“This country,” Richard read, “the United States, is a wonderful example of man’s ability to tame, change, develop and dominate an enormous land mass in just three hundred years. “Imagine! Europe, Asia, Africa, have all had human occupation for hundreds of thousands of years, so it is difficult to gauge their accumulated effect on the planet. But not us, not our country. We know when we came, who lived here, and what we’ve accomplished in making ourselves at home. Immigrants all of us with spirit, no-how and technology. Great cities, a vast highway system connecting them, extracting coal, iron, oil to run our factories, heat and cool our homes, run our shiny vehicles, build and maintain the most powerful armed force of all time, with weapons that can render any country helpless, even lifeless.
“And almost all of it created without a moment’s pause for the consequences of our actions on the soil, the air and the waters, or any other species that share this lovely place with us. Except our pets and our horses and cows.
“Most land species,” he continued hurriedly, seeing that he had turned some scoffing frowns into thoughtful ones, “construct and live in some sort of simple, natural shelter, away from the elements or predators, and usually in a community. Some examples are ant mounds, birds’ nests, bat caves, rabbit warrens, mole holes, Indian settlements, and so on. How do they differ from us homo sapiens, Outsiders?
Well, their shelters are made of local, renewable materials, which they rarely inhabit for very long. When the local food supply is depleted, they move on. The chief disparity between us and them is our demand for permanent structures. The second is our hubris to suppose we can actually own a piece of the earth for almost any purpose. When we first arrived, we copied the Earthen. We built shelters of logs found locally. We harvested local, seasonal foods. We scarcely disturbed the earth. Not for long.” He felt his face flush with anger and he forced a grin and went on.
“What to do with the single most destructive species on earth, homo sapiens? There was no shortage of suggestions. Lock us all in secure facilities with high walls and barbed wire. Load us on those old rotting warships and set us out to anchor far from land. One suggestion was simply a cull, and no one laughed. We’re growing faster than fire-ants and with God’s approval. We finally agreed the least disruptive and safest place for us was underground. While this does demand enormous changes to our lives, it may halt the threat to the planet’s very existence! But I only say it may, because we cannot discount man’s innate competitive spirit, his ability and his desire to destroy, to kill anything or anyone, especially his fellow creatures!”
The last was growled, and Richard turned so as not to display the sudden wetness in his eyes, and he blindly stepped down. Rising to replace him, Anne would have reached over and embraced her man but for her supposed impartial role.
What about my Colette—my poodle? Where is she going to live?
It provided a welcome laugh, and Anne went on. “A very reasonable question, ma’am. Many of our Amwell members had pets and wanted to bring them, but realized it would be impossible. Without packaged pet food they would be sick eating our left-overs. Cleaning up, too, presents problems and . . . well, facing the harsh truth, loving as they may be, pets are essentially wild animals we’ve tamed. However--”
But I’ve seen dogs and cats here! The woman cried.
“As I was about to say, pets have a very strong therapeutic role to play, so we have allowed our residents to keep their pets.”
Anne shared a relieved smile with the woman. “Any more thoughts?”
She waited through a long minute of mostly hushed whispers from the delegates mopping their perspiring brows under the summer sun, and smarting under Richard’s scolding. The senator from Mississippi struggled to his feet. Grunting, he leaned on his gold topped cane, and smiled at Anne.
Ma’am, some of us have problems with y’alls plumbin’. Last thing we want to do is criticize y’all’s wonderful work, ‘specially from the soldiers. But we wish y’all had finished your li’l old commune before bringin’ us he-uh.
“Senator, the commune is finished and has been lived-in for months.”
Ah did not see a single – ahem – workin’ toilet – down they-uh! Just toilet seats ovah holes!
Richard rushed up to respond. “Senator, I’m so glad you brought that up. Every suite has a toilet, a dry toilet, you see.”
Well, sir, I do not see—nor do I he-uh a proper flush.