lettersthatleaveamark.com

Friday, September 19, 2008

Never take the redeye into D.C.

Finally the plane touched down and all Ralph wanted was a hot shower and a fresh pillow. His weekend trip to Vegas taught him two things; never eat Nevada shrimp and the house always wins. Some old friends beckoned him to spend three days looking for the big score, and rehashing youthful adventures. So, Ralph, recently divorced, with midlife crises in full surrender, needed excitement rather than sleep and headed for the desert. That seemed so long ago, Ralph thought, as the jet taxied to gate 420.

This redeye from Los Vegas to D.C. had its fair share of Sin-City indulgers. Ralph, in the same clothes he left in three days ago, looked perfectly in place. Not only did the cabin smell somewhere between gas station air-freshener and spoiled milk, it also had the feel of nothing more than a Greyhound bus with wings. A handful of passengers that were awake barely noticed the plane pulling into the terminal.

Standing up, Ralph grabbed his bag and waited for other passengers to uncoil and motivate their languid bodies into some form of movement. Slowly, he made his way down the aisle; with each step the space became more obstructed. Bodies, just like his, that haven’t seen daylight, or probably a washcloth in three days, converge down a two-foot wide path.

Just get me off this plane and a hot shower and I’ll be happy, Ralph thought. Exiting the cabin door, Ralph even noticed the flight attendants looked as if they had a few all-nighters in the August desert.

Ralph thought nothing of the two security guards standing with a man in a dark suite at the end of the hallway. Ralph checked his watch, 3am, I’ll be home by four, he thought.

With about twenty yards between him and the guards, Ralph heard one say, “That’s him!”
With an all out sprint, the guards rushed up to Ralph.

“Stop right here, Mr. Thornway!”

“What, Thornway, what are you talking about?” Ralph said.

Just as Ralph got those words out the man in the dark suit slapped handcuffs around Ralph’s wrist.

“Good work boys. Now, I’d appreciate it if you could find an interrogation room I could use to ask Mr. Thornway a few questions,” the man said.

“Wait, what are you doing, my name is Webber, Ralph Webber.”

The early morning airport was nearly deserted. This kind of excitement never happened during the graveyard shift, so one of the guards puffed up, “Come with me sir, I’ll get you a private office.”

“Now wait a minute,” Ralph said. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not Thornway!”
Just then the man flashed a badge, “I’m detective Murphy from narcotics, and I decide where you go. Take him away boys.”

The guards along with Detective Murphy ushered Ralph down a small hallway just off the main corridor. Ralph pleaded his case the whole way.

“I’m Ralph Webber, not this Thornway character you’re talking about. I need to call a lawyer, I have rights!”

“Pipe down Thornway, or the only rights you’ll get are the last ones,” Detective Murphy said.

“Here you go sir,” one of the guards said as he unlocked a door. “No one’s due in here for hours, so take your time.”

The other guard pushed Ralph into a small chair and then slid him up to the desk. Detective Murphy went around the desk and glared at the guards.

“That will be all boys, I’ve got it from here,” Murphy stated.
The guards closed the door. For once they had a story to tell the hotshots on the day shift.

Ralph studied Detective Murphy’s sharp creased pants and polished shoes. Although it was past 3am, he looked fresh in a starched white shirt and thin blue tie. On the other hand, Ralph looked as any man would who hadn’t slept for 72 hours and just came off a 5 hour flight. Even in his exhausted state, Ralph noticed the detective looked old enough for retirement.

Murphy lit a cigarette.

“I don’t think you can smoke in here,” Ralph said.

“Shut-up son, I call the shots.” Then the detective blew smoke in Ralph’s face.

“Are you arresting me,” Ralph said through a cough. “Because I’m not Thornway, check my ID in my wallet,” Ralph coughed some more.

“Son, I can get a fake ID anywhere in this town you call a society. All it takes is a couple of rocks and some hello bent weed to become anybody you want too. For an extra pint, you could get a social security number to validate your fraud, so don’t trouble me with your ID.”

“I want a lawyer,” Ralph said.

“That’s the first thing a guilty man always says. Guys like you always scream about rights. Well mister, what about the rights of the poor kids, pushers like you, live on, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Okay Thornway, we’ll play your game, I got all night.”

Detective Murphy sat down and faced the opposite wall, leaving Ralph to stare at his bald spot. Ralph felt sweat gather on his upper unshaven lip. Clearly this was a case of mistaken identity, but proving it was becoming difficult to this bizarre cop.

“Look, my name is Ralph Webber. I just spent the weekend with some friends in Las Vegas. I’m a fifty year old divorced father of one child who is currently going to college. I live a very boring life; I’m an accountant for goodness sakes, who votes Republican.”

Detective Murphy spun around and looked a Ralph.

“How do you get your kicks Thornway? Is it red devils, orange bandits, or blue Mary’s, huh? Or maybe you like to go on a sleigh ride with the Cotton brothers and take in a Colorado cocktail while dusting your nose with some California cornflakes. I’ve seen your type before, and I know you better than your paperboy does. He only delivers the mind detergent, but I’ve seen the aftermath of an all-nighter chasing the dragon. You think you can fool me because I wear a suit, well mister, think again. While you’re strung out on white robots and pink witches, I’m cleaning up littered streets and shaking down punks like you. Now, how’s it gonna be Thornway?”

“One more time, but in English please” Ralph said.

“So you want to play cute, huh?

“I don’t want to play anything, I just need a hot shower,” Ralph dropped his head on the table.

“A hot shower, what’s that, a Frisco speedball with a pinch of Mexican firewood?”
“Who are you, and can I see your badge again?”

“Punks like you always try to turn the tables. You saw the badge, just go on memory, but I guess you’re too stoned to recall anything past 5 seconds.”

Ralph’s patience became thin, he wasn’t only worn out from this renegade cop who believed Ralph was Thornway, but now his head throbbed. If he wasn’t handcuffed, he thought, maybe he’d hit Murphy and make a run for it.

“Who’s your travel agent, Thornway?”

“I booked my own flight,” Ralph let out a sigh, now he needed to use the men’s room.

“Ah ha, so you’re a one-stop-shop, I bet you even grow your own ditch-weed and mule it through customs. You’re sick Thornway.”

“No, what, you asked me who my travel agent was, right? And I’m not Thornway!”

“Try me son, and I’ll roll over you like a storm over a Kansas farm house. Now listen fella, you picked a bad night to take the redeye into my district. See I get paid to go on hunches and I can tell by that blank stare of yours my hunch was pretty good. Yeah you’re perturbed right now because tonight the tax payers got their monies worth from a flatfoot like me busting a hippie like you.”


“Hippie?”
“That’s what we called ‘em when I first joined the force. You remember the game Thornway; I used to go down to Washington Square and round you guys up by the thousands. You called them peaceful protests, but it was more like a twelve hour mushroom dance with sugar cubes as an after dinner mint. You played your rock and said it was music, you had sex with any woman that was there and said it was free love, and you dropped acid and said it expanded your mind. I can’t count the times I dragged some kid to my patrol car all strung out on Hawaiian sunshine only to have him retch up last nights party on the backseat of the tax payers vehicle. And then, when he’s processed, booked, and made bail, I’m stuck with crusted vomit on a twenty five dollar jacket that coast ten bananas to clean, but the stench is still there, Thornway. You want to know why, well I’ll tell you mister, because I went out the next day and started the game all over again."

“First of all, I haven’t understood any of this jargon you’re speaking. I’m tired, dirty, my head is pounding, and I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Wishful thinking punk, I’ve dealt with grandmas playing illegal bingo games tougher than you. Do you know what it’s like to be peppered with insults and called pig, fuzz, five-o, and Johnny Law all because you signed up for a job that doesn’t pay well and nobody wants? I didn’t think so, Thornway. You know the only difference between us son, besides that mop over your eyes, and the movies you think are freedoms of speech, is who we answer too. I find gratitude in a day’s work and a good night’s sleep, while you sniff glue in back alleys looking for cut-rate prostitutes that will trade a sandwich-bag with a waffle-dust-chaser for a good time.”

Detective Murphy shot a surly glare waiting for Ralph to finally confess. It might have been the confusing rambles of an unbalanced cop, or the weekend gone on far too long, whatever the case, Ralph had enough. He figured the detective had broken several constitutional laws, so, drained, and eager to talk to someone living in this generation, Ralph finally said, “You got me.”

“I knew it Thornway, that’s why I carry a badge, to hear those three words, ‘you got me.’ A cop never complains about being sick, we don’t understand the word quit, and tired isn’t in our vocabulary. All a cop knows is this week’s pay went for last month’s rent, perhaps a mortgage if we’re lucky, but it doesn’t matter, because happiness is for the other guy, the ones we took an oath to protect and serve. You know when I clock out, Thornway? Try never, Oh, I might get a few hours of shut-eye, but eventually I’ll get that call, the one that makes your insides twitch and your palms sweat, but only for a few seconds, cause you realize you’re always on the job and some kid is blown out of his mind on green-triangles and you’re the only one who can talk him off that ledge."

“Do you ever stop? Why are you telling me this? Either, charge me with something, or let me go.”

“Alright Thornway, the paddy wagon is just outside, so we’re gonna stride out of here like the other side of my pillow, cool like. You got that? Try any funny business and I’ll drop you so fast the starch in your shirt will wonder where you went.” Detective Murphy stood up and went to the door. “Let’s move Thornway, you’re on the department’s dime.”

“I think you’re supposed to read me my rights and tell me exactly what I’m being charged with.”

“When we get down to division, I’ll spell it out for you. Maybe by that time you’ll be down from all the goof balls you’re flying on. Boy you got the habit bad, don’t ya, Thornway?"

Ralph tuned out the best he could, but the detective’s endless monologue played the role of a mosquito he couldn’t quite reach. Murphy droned on about dousing Ralph with lice powder and butch waxing his hair. Ralph received a few looks as he walked handcuffed beside Detective Murphy down the long corridor. Just as they turned a corner, Ralph saw the same two security guards who helped Murphy contain him. Only this time, they were red-faced and standing with another man.

“There he is,” the man said. “Dad, where have you been?”

Murphy froze for a moment, and then said, “Running this pinko downtown.”

“Dad, did you put handcuffs on this man? You know you’re not a cop; we’ve had this conversation before. Now give me the keys and fake badge and stand over there where I can see you. I need to talk to this gentleman in private.”

“We’ll watch him for you sir,” one of the guards said.

“Yeah, you guys are good at that,” Ralph said.

Murphy muttered something about a confession and then shuffled to the other side of the hallway.

The man freed Ralph’s hands.

“Look ah, I’m sorry about my dad. I didn’t know he brought those handcuffs with him.” the man said. “We’re here to catch a flight so he can see a specialist, and he just wondered off. I hope you understand. See, lately, he’s been going on police websites looking at wanted drug dealers and learning the language they use. Then, the other day, he watched a Dragnet marathon on television, and now he thinks he’s Joe Friday.”

“That’s it,” Ralph said. “It makes sense now. Say no more, I just want to get out of here and get a hot shower, forget about it.”

“So you don’t want to press charges?”

“No, let’s not make this worse for the old man.”

Ralph said a quick goodbye and was gone. As soon as he reached the airport exit his cell phone rang. Ralph looked at the number, shook his head, and then answered.

“Where you been,” the voice on the other end said.

“Oh, I got delayed by some geezer living in TV Land.”

“Well, what’s the word?” the voice said.

“I got the big score. My travel agent in Vegas said he’d have the white robots to the paperboy by Thursday. Right now, I’ve got three mules ready to transport the rest of the orange bandits. I’ll call you after I get a hot shower.”

“A hot shower, isn’t that a Frisco speedball with a pinch of Mexican firewood?”

“That’s a fact, sir. Hey, and one more thing, Thornway,” Ralph said.

“What’s that?”

“Never take the redeye into D.C.”


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Monday, May 26, 2008

The Bigsby Letters


July 4th 2276

A father motioned to his young son as he pulled into the driveway.

“Hi Dad,” Hamilton said while his father slipped out from behind the wheel.

The dad touched Hamilton’s blond hair and then pulled him close. The two stood in the driveway. Dust from the nearby potash plant eased in front of the setting sun causing a pink hue to settle over the neighborhood. This summer evening will be one young Hamilton will never forget.

A patrol pod slowed down as it approached the quarters leased out to Hamilton’s dad. The boy clutched his father’s arm and pretended not to notice the authority. A man dressed in a green uniform stepped out from the pod. He scrolled through an electronic notepad while walking up the driveway.

“You Seth Bigsby?” the man said, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes sir,” Seth said. “And this is my son Hamilton.”

“We know who he is,” the man barked.....

Hamilton moved behind his father, the National Police always made him nervous.

“We know he’s nine years old and makes good grades. The United Global Community will have place for him in a few years,” the officer said.

Hamilton kept his head down.

“Go inside Hamilton, I have some business with your father,” the police officer said.

Hamilton looked at his father with fear, not knowing if this would be the last time he saw his dad. The same feeling came over him the day his mother died.

“It’s okay Hamilton, I’ll be in soon,” his dad said.

Hamilton didn’t look at the officer as he ran to the front door.

“Look Bigsby, I’ll make this brief. Our computer down at sector five reported lights on in your apartment three minutes past embargo last night. Anything you need to tell me?”

“My son wasn’t feeling well and I lost track of the time.”

“Not feeling well huh? The way I see it, he can be sick in the dark. You know the rules Bigsby; if we gave everybody three extra minutes do you know what kind of carbon footprint that would leave?”

Seth wanted to say, the United Global Community left a bigger footprint checking up on its citizens than a father helping a sick child, but he thought better of it.

“It won’t happen again,” Seth said.

“You got that right Bigsby. For that little stunt you made the list. Your freedom is under review. I don’t have to tell you what happens if found guilty, do I?”

Again Seth thought, “freedom under review?” As a free man living in latitude 35, district 43 and sector 5, there is no freedom, not here or anywhere under the UGC.

“I know, cameras and gauges,” Seth finally said.

“That’s right Bigsby, cameras and gauges. Now scan your ERIC here and I’ll be on my way.”

Seth placed his left arm over a small screen and the device downloaded his environment responsible identification code (ERIC). Seth returned the screen and then studied the officer’s uniform.

The policeman’s badge hung with purpose for all to see. Green letters at the top of the gold shield read, “Without a Planet.” The shield’s main focus was a footprint with olive leaves attached to the toes. Under the symbol were the words, “Freedom is Extinct.”

Seth wondered how true those words were, “Without a planet freedom is extinct.”

“You got a problem with the badge, Bigsby?”

“Huh, oh no, I was just thinking how far we’ve come.”

“It’s too late to try to suck-up, the report is downloaded. Check your mail in the morning for a court date,” the policeman said.

The man walked to his patrol pod and Seth whispered under his breath, “Happy 4th of July.”

Seth turned to his front door and saw Hamilton peeking out through a white curtain. He then glanced to the red drapes on his neighbor’s apartment, and then shifted his eyes to the left. The other neighbor had blue window dressings. It’d been so long since red, white, and blue meant anything, but today it meant everything. Two weeks ago Seth installed his signal, white curtains. A week later, the neighbor to the left, set up their signal, red curtains. Now Seth had confirmation by way of the newest window dressing, blue curtains, which indicated the plan was in motion.

Seth ran to the door, he only had a few hours to prepare Hamilton for their journey. Seth flung the door open and Hamilton jumped back.

“Cameras and gauges Dad, is that what they are going to do because I was sick last night?”

“Don’t worry about that, I have something to show you.”

“But Dad, it’s my fault. They’re going to put a gauge on our water supply and turn off the lights with a computer downtown. Cameras will watch us, making sure we don’t use paper or use wasteful products”

“Hamilton settle down and come with me.”

“You don’t understand Dad. When Tommy’s family lost their freedom, they could only use 5 gallons of water a day. Then cameras caught his dad reading a book and he’s in prison now.”

The world went paperless about thirty years ago. Anyone found with reading materials printed on fiber or pulped wood paper received a sentence of twenty-five years. The content of the book did not matter, only the substance it was printed on.

The slogan taught to children of the day was, “If you read a book, a tree dies.” Seth was in grade school back then and he could remember the shame placed on his dad for protesting at the school. They called his old man an antique unable to use modern methods of education, and selfish for not caring about the planet.

“We can’t lose our freedom Dad, we just can’t!”

“Hamilton you’ve never known freedom, there’s something I want to show you.”

Seth took his young son down the hallway to his bedroom. The room was dark until he flipped the switch to a government issued light bulb, which hung above the bed. It cast a faint glow around the walls and made it possible for Seth and Hamilton to make their way into the room.
Seth went to his dresser and pulled out a pocketknife.

“Hamilton do you know what today is?” his dad asked.

“Um, Tuesday.”

“No son the date.”

“It’s the fourth,” Hamilton said.

“That’s right, the fourth of July.” Then Seth took the knife and plunged it into the side of the mattress. His hand thrust into the eco-safe foam bedding and after a few seconds his hand came out with a spiral notepad and a book. Hamilton had only seen pictures of books on his computer, but never a real book.

“Dad! You have a book and some paper!” Hamilton said panicking.

“It’s okay, no one knows about this. Before your mother died she sewed them inside. We’ve had six paper inspections since then and they’ve never found them.”

“But Dad, what about the cameras?”

“There not here yet, that’s why you need to see this tonight”

Seth drew his son near and placed the book in his hand. Hamilton looked at the tattered jacket and traced his fingers over the binding. A smell like none other came from the hardback. Its odor seemed odd, yet inviting.

“You smell that Hamilton? That’s the smell of history, something you’re not going to find on a computer screen. Now look closely at the cover and see if you can read the title.”

“Amer-ica-n His-tory, American History, is that what it says?”

“Yes, American history.” Seth said.

What’s American mean?”

“Nothing now, but you hold in your hands a documentation of great men who founded a country. Freedom was their purpose and many men died for that freedom.”

Like us, we are free, because our environment lives,” Hamilton said.

“No son, not like us,” Seth sat down on the bed and opened the paper notebook. “That book was written two hundred and sixty eight years ago. This notebook is a continuation written by your relatives. It’s been handed down through generations. Each time it passed on, the new holder rewrote what was previously written so the pages would not deteriorate over time.”

“So what’s so important about America? I’ve never heard of it and we don’t live there.” Hamilton said.

“You’ve got a lot to learn son, maybe too much for one night. But it’s time to start.”

Seth checked his watch. Seeing it was almost eight o’clock, he went to the window and drew the blind. After turning off the light bulb, Seth lit a candle and placed it on the nightstand and then sat down on the bed.

“Hamilton, you’ll have plenty of time to read the American History book, but for now I want to read you the Bigsby letters.”

Seth opened the family notebook. “This is the first entry written by Hamilton Bigsby in 2044.”
“Hey Hamilton, that’s my name.”

“That’s where it came from.” Seth said. "Now I want you to listen, it wasn’t that long ago I was in your position. I still remember the day your Grandfather read me these letters. I was scared and confused just like you, but I came to understand their purpose, just like I know you will.”

Hamilton slowly shook his head up and down, realizing the world was bigger than the tiny apartment he called home.

Seth pulled another candle from the drawer to have on standby. He looked at his son and then began to read the Bigsby Letters.

Dear Family,
I write this letter in the year 2044. I’ve seen a lot since my birth (1963) and most of it amazing. America has put men on the moon, invented ovens that cook food in seconds, and went from black and white television to super high definition color screens. So many great things too numerous to include in the letter, I’m afraid the list would go on too long and that’s not the purpose for my writing.

I pulled out an old book the other day, and it got me to thinking. The book is simply called “American History” and was written in the year 1988. It starts with the birth of this nation and goes through the Presidency of Ronald Reagan. With only a paragraph or two describing each event, the book is small considering all the information between its covers. You’ll find The Declaration of Independence, the United States Constitution, and Abraham Lincoln’s great Emancipation Proclamation inside its pages. Although the book is 57 years old, I thought, what a wonderful gift to pass on to future generations.

Then I thought, as the book is passed on, what if a member of the Bigsby family added a letter, a stream of consciousness if you will, on what’s happening in America.

Today, most text is kept on a computer and backed up on an off site highway. They say, it’s safe from crashing, but they also said ethanol was the answer to our oil problems. Although books are still printed and published, they’ve become obsolete. Now we have Zip-fi channel programmed to our notebooks. These days a novel can leave an authors keyboard and within seconds, America is reading the latest thriller, provided the publishing ring has your bank account on file. Of course nobody reads anymore. They listen to books. That’s one reason I feel this letter should remain handwritten and off the computer. The other reason is sabotage.

As a boy, Internet, mouse, desktop, and surfing, meant something completely different than it does to this old man. I understand times change, I used to stand rigid with firm strides and dream about uncharted planets waiting for exploration. Now my shoulders stoop, and a weary walk defines my ripeness. As far as dreams, I think Aristotle said it best when he stated, old men live in memory rather than anticipation.

I live in a different America than my youth. It’s almost unrecognizable; not in its beauty. The mornings are still fresh with Gods gentle touch, and sunsets remain breathtaking, which lets us know all is well. But rather in American spirit and thought.

I always thought if this country fell, it would be to communism or a terrorist state. But a new wind started blowing circa 2000 and it didn’t arm itself with guns or bombs. The new movement called, “Green” and they arm themselves with guilt and shame, preaching how we were destroying the planet. Freedoms came into question. Bottled water became a sin and eventually banned. Families who used disposable diapers were called wasteful contributors to the carbon footprint.

Then around 2013 President Rufus Sinclair came up with the Environment Responsible Identification Code, (ERIC). He said the card was voluntary, but if we cared about saving the planet, we should sign up. ERIC would track our spending. Then each month a report would be emailed to us. This report told us how much we contributed to the carbon footprint.

To my surprise, Americans signed up by the millions. Hollywood, politicians, and schools were involved in the promotion. It seemed every boy born that year was named Eric. I didn’t partake in this freedom grabbing scheme until July 4th 2020. That’s the date ERIC became law. After that, I can’t tell you how many times I ran out for a gallon of milk and left my stupid ERIC card in my other pants. The looks I’d get from young eco-eyed cashers. Then they’d say, “Mr. Bigsby you can’t buy milk without ERIC. I’d leave milk-less go home and make lemonade.
Several scientists argued against global warming, but their voice went unheard, and became weaker and weaker as the years went by. The most troubling thing was the willingness of the American people to jump onboard and freely give up their rights to save the planet when the facts were not conclusive.

August 9th 2019, in order to reduce landfills, each homeowner and apartment dweller had an ERIC adaptive recycle meter and trash scale installed by the street. Recycling must outweigh the trash. For the aggressive recycler, ERIC will issue one carbon credit per thousand units. And for the wasteful, a fine, set to the accordance of abuse.

Most newspapers went by the wayside in 2020. A few major publishers were able to stay in business from government subsidy, but only if they went paperless and just printed online. So now for what it’s worth, the government officially had their hand in the news.

National Healthcare finally passed Congress in February of 2021. Now the government had access to its citizen’s medical records. One curious thing, it seemed everybody I knew, including me, got a prescription for a drug call Lortnoc/dnim. It’s been labeled as a cure-all whether the patient had heart trouble, depression, diabetes, or any other medical disorder. It was given to me for my bad back. I took it a few times, it didn’t help my back, but it did make me feel goofy in the head. This is a drug I encourage all who read this to stay away from. The government prescribes this medication too freely and mails us constant reminders to take it.

In 2024 newly elected President Isaiah Belmont encouraged Americans to build outhouses behind their homes. This plan was to help conserve water by not flushing. Americans went outhouse crazy and my neighborhood smelled like a cesspool. I eventually planted rose bushes, thinking it would help the odor. It didn’t, but my Sunsprite floribunda rose, won first place at the garden show.

In 2032 Congress passed a bill and the President signed to ban parades of any kind. The purpose was to help reduce the carbon footprint we so selfishly contribute too. Americans loved the idea; I should say most of them did. I know a guy who on July 4th filled his tank up and fastened an American flag in the bed of his pick up truck. He drove all over town having a parade for one. I won’t tell you who it was, but his hand is on the end of this pen.

These new laws annoy old men like me. Some say I don’t care about the environment, I’m selfish, or even my citizenship should be revoked, because I don’t fall in line and give the eco-salute. Yes, there is an eco-salute now. That was the brainchild of President Lyndon McGovern.

But as little things are taken away, America loses its punch. In my lifetime, we went from being a super power to having no muscle. People say we must be doing something right, because we haven’t had a terrorist attack in years. But why should they, there’s no reason to kill the enemy, when they’re committing suicide.

About the year 2035, talk radio started disappearing. The FCC would yank broadcasting licenses if they deemed the station broadcasted obscene or hate talk. Most of the hate talk was about having an opposing view of the environment. Many hosts went to satellite radio, but because of a pay per station and having to use your ERIC card with every purchase, it was easy for the government to track who listened. Tax audits seemed to coincide with certain talk show host and within 3 years the subscriptions went south and so did the host.

I felt and still feel alarmists who have an agenda to end the United States of America are hoodwinking us. When this happens, history will be rewritten and no document will be sacred.
I do see and hear about a few pockets of resistance. Occasionally a group will scream about freedom and Constitutional Rights. However, these groups are labeled archaic, and most often their leader is arrested on some trumped up charges leaving the rest fearing the same demise.

Here’s a wish from a dead man. Most likely my son, Patrick Bigsby, will find this letter after my death. Patrick, take the book American History along with this letter and add what you see happening to the United States. When a freedom slips; report on her fall.

I don’t know how long this letter will go into the future. But I’d like my family, the ones born many generations from now, to know what America was and where it’s headed. And maybe one day we can find our way back.

My closing thought. God has given us trees, water, oil, sunshine, and most of all intelligent minds to harness this power. We cannot destroy what God has created. Only the arrogant mind thinks we have greater power than He. If the ozone fails or ice caps melt our footprint will dwarf its reason.

I do fear, that one day the paper I’m writing on, will be banned. And that’s why I started the Bigsby letters.

Hamilton Bigsby

____________________________________________________________

Hamilton Bigsby died July 4th 2044. The book American History was by his side and the attached letter was in his hand. Hamilton Bigsby was 81 years old.
________________________________________________________________

I, Patrick Bigsby added the last 3 sentences to my Dad’s letter. Then I tucked the book and letter away and forgot about it for 16 years.

Now, I’m the old man looking back to see America. My body may have weakened, but the mind is undiluted when it comes to memory.

Shortly after Dad died, our nation elected a new President. Rain Chase swept in with the new “Eco-Party.” He came from an environmental activist family. His parents had five children and their names were Sun, Wind, Cloud, Air, and Rain.

In his first press conference, President Chase announced that Americans should start calling themselves “Global Citizens.” He said the name American sounds arrogant to other countries, and we shouldn’t brag about being from a country founded on slavery and angry white men who started destroying the planet.

Christmas 2048 will be one I’ll never forget. That’s the year all Christmas trees were banned, real and fake. The real ones because it was wasteful use of an innocent tree, and fake ones because they would eventually end up in a landfill. And everybody knows plastic isn’t landfill friendly.

Here’s a small list of the eight years under Rain Chase:

• Families can only fly round trip only once during a 12 month period

• Homeowner’s thermostats are controlled by the government

• Bills and family correspondence, (Letters, Christmas and Birthday cards) must be done online

• All newborns must be vaccinated with the drug Lortnoc/dnim

• Each month, the ERIC card will only allow citizens 4 rolls of toilet paper, 1 roll of paper
towels and one package of 60 ct diapers (per child under the age of 19 months)

• The logging industry must pay a carbon footprint tax according to the number of trees cut down

Those are just a few things Rain Chase did during his reign. He left a country in economic shambles. Most paper companies went under along with the airlines. This had a domino effect on unemployment. To battle this, the government put people to work planting trees and picking up highway trash. This made President Chase very popular. His exit address was hailed by some, as the best speech in Presidential history.

I now know what my dad was getting at. With a government that employs the majority, a majority of freedoms can be taken away without the first shot being fired.

2052 saw history. The first woman was elected President. Rosetta Haskin from the Green party took office. Her campaign slogan was “The Eco-Party was not Eco-enough.”

President Haskin reduced military power by dismantling most of our nuclear arsenal. She said to be earth friendly, the US must set an example to the rest of the world, that we’ll lay down our arms to protect the planet.

She promised by the end of her term, Global Citizens (Americans) would not be dependant on oil. This promise was nothing new, every President since Sinclair had said it. But she meant it.
The country spent billions and put more workers on the government payroll trying to find fuel alternatives. One bright idea came from cow manure. Processing plants for bovine excrement were built and the B.S. started to flow.

There was one problem no one thought through. (I did, but I didn’t work for the government) Cows have to go a lot to make a gallon of fuel. So cows became a precious commodity. In turn, cows were kept alive and the price of hamburger went through the roof.

After billions of dollars and 4 years later, the cow gas went out of business. I did fill up on it one time and my car ran like crap.

Being the first woman elected, President Haskin, became the first woman not re-elected. She left office in an oil fueled car.

Sporting events died in 2055. After years of complaining about the carbon footprint caused by team air travel and fans driving to games, the environmentalist got their way. After banning sporting events, the government along with a company called “Computer Generated Sports,” came up with lifelike games to watch on television. Although it was really just computer controlled video games. We still had all the professional team names in the cities, as well as the owners. Each franchise got the best computerized player based on the owner’s carbon footprint. The San Francisco teams always win the World Series and Super Bowl.

In 2060 handwriting is longer being taught in school. This may cause problems later on down the line. I hope my family members will continue to teach penmanship to our children.
My family, I feel my time is near. I copied my dad’s letter word for word and attached mine for my younger brother Whitney.

Please continue the Bigsby letters, and I’ll see you on the other side.

Patrick Bigsby.

Seth stopped reading just long enough to see if he still had his son’s attention. The candlelight glow in Hamilton’s eyes told Seth all he needed to know. Seth continued to read.

Patrick Bigsby died April 3rd 2062 he was 79 years old is the way I’ll start this letter. I’m Lankston Bigsby, his nephew. I first must say, handwriting is awkward for me. In fact, the only time I hold a pen is when I sign my name. And that’s done on a compad with an e-stick and no paper.

I found the Bigsby letters along with a book called American History when I was moving books out of my Dad’s house years ago. My Dad, Whitney, who died suddenly, was Patrick’s brother. I’m sure he was going to add to the letters, but death prevented his appendage, so I guess the duty falls on me. I’m not much of a writer, but I’ll do my best.

Reflecting back to my childhood, I can still hear my father and uncle complaining about America. Nothing made them happy. My dad would say, “Patrick, It’s about freedom, not the environment.”

I always thought “how silly.” If we didn’t have an environment, there would be no freedom. I was born in 2010 and spent my youth protesting people like my father, uncle, and grandfather.

Schools had little time for American History, when important issues like preserving the planet infiltrated our classroom. In fact, the only thing taught about our founding fathers was, they started the carbon footprint. I wrote reports on global warming, the ozone, and how long it would take before the planet died because of people like my father.

I still can remember the look on my dad’s face, when I told him, “The planet can only survive when people like you die.”

My father wanted me to read the book, American History, but I wanted no part of men who were free under others slavery. He’d set that book by my bed night after night and say, “Just read it.” I didn’t. One time he caught me just as I was about to set the book on fire. That was the last time I saw the book until he died.

I campaigned for Lyndon McGovern, wore a green ribbon on my hemp shirt, and refused to ride in cars that were bigger than 4 cylinders. I was doing my part to save the planet. No freedoms were revered, only Mother Earth was holy.

It became a mindset, a lifestyle, and I couldn’t understand why my family saw things differently. I can’t tell you the excitement I felt when Rain Chase was elected. He came from my generation and spoke my language. I was one of the first ones to sign-up for the ERIC card. I even had a blog dedicated to those who didn’t sign-up. The name Hamilton Bigsby was at the top. I really felt I’d won the war the year ERIC became mandatory. Finally those who abused the environment would be accountable.

When citizens lost their jobs, because their particular field was deemed unfriendly to the environment, the government put them on the payroll. I was so proud to live in a place where unemployment was nonexistent. To me, the nation was becoming liberated, one ban at a time. I went as far as never having children, because one more human being meant a bigger footprint.

In 2064, the Supreme Court threw out the 2nd Amendment, and I applauded. I loved watching rednecks groups trying to hold onto their guns while my government snuffed them out, destroyed their compounds and their precious right to carry firearms.

In 2067, our currency no longer had the faces of our Forefathers. Our money was imprinted with trees, whales, bears, and baby ducks. We replaced the words “In God We Trust” with the slogan, “Save the Planet We Must.” Yes 2067 was a very good year.

I also helped on the Banana Project. It was my research, along with a few others, who set in motion the ban on importing bananas. Shipping the useless fruit left a carbon footprint too big for something so wasteful. I’m the reason future generations will have no idea what a banana taste like.

In 2069, a scientist actually said global warming was a hoax. The government stripped him of his degree and he found work digging outhouses for the poor. I thought that was too good for him, I’d felt better if he’d been executed.

So I guess you’re wondering what is a green wearing, tree hugging, and oil hating man like me doing carrying on the Bigsby letters? It’s a miracle these letters and book weren’t tossed years ago. Believe me, I thought about it, but something always told me not yet. I guess it stems from what my dad said one time. Actually, more than once he said, “One day they will come for your freedom.” I didn’t believe him, until November 4th 2075.

I made a lot of money in my day. I consulted politicians, gave lectures on the environment, and sold green-friendly goods over the Internet. I was a one man Green Machine. I put a lot of money in a Green 401k and invested even more in green stocks. I was ready to live out my life and enjoy the environment I helped to create.

Not in a million years I never would have thought this would happen.

The Supreme Court ruled 401k plans were unfair to those who never saved money. All savings accounts would go into a pool and be redistributed, case closed, no exceptions. However, because I had so much money in the bank, I was placed in a government approved green housing complex rent free and all my food and transportation needs would also be provided by the government.

The government transferred and conciliated everyone’s bank account to his or her ERIC card. The reasoning was to keep a safer and central location for all transactions.

This was not what I had in mind for my golden years. Somehow I pictured my wife and me moving to California where we’d spend our days hiking and evenings sipping wine from our vineyard. I even had a second home picked out in Colorado. I imagined skiing down snow covered mountains and holding court at the local lodge, pontificating on how we were the generation that saved snow from global warming.

With no reason to invest, Wall Street collapsed. Yet, most of America cheered. I went to so many messages boards with the same running theme. They all stated greedy people like me got what we deserved.

Suddenly, it all made sense. My dad, uncle and grandfather, became the smartest men I ever knew.

I then found the book and read the most beautiful document ever written, the Constitution. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was 65 years old before I really read the words, “We The People of The United States, in order to form a more perfect union.” The first 10 amendments were things the government could NOT do to its citizens. Wow, and I’d spent my whole life in support of the government controlling its people.

Where does one turn now? I’m afraid it’s too late. Freedom is like air, you can’t see it, but you’ll know when it’s gone.

Today I live in government housing and the only choice I have is my own food selection. I think sometimes my dad is looking down laughing at me. But then again, he was never like that. Although the authors of the 3 previous letters seemed angry to me as a child, now I remember fondly, their smiles and laughter when the family was all together. Looking back I was the angry one. When I first found the letters, the arrogance in me thought the pages would be filled with stuff about me, the black sheep. But instead, I saw men who loved a nation, but were saddened by where it was going. They knew their stories meant nothing at the present, but hoped future generations would have some memory of America.

Now the Prodigal son has come home. I’ve realized my life’s mission help to create America’s downfall. My selfishness, by not having children, makes the book and letters hard to pass on. But I’ve found a way. After I sign my name, I will call my niece, Martha Bigsby. She is my late brother’s child and the letters will be in her care.
Lankston Bigsby
_________________________________________________

Lankston Bigsby died October 21st 2099 he was 89 years old. I’m Martha Bigsby Dupree. I’ve had possession of the Bigsby letters along with the book since I was 20 years old.

Although, all the letters are in my handwriting, I assure you, it is a word for word account from the originals. A woman never gives her age, but let’s say a lot has happened since Lankston Bigsby died. I’ve made some notes over the years to help my fading memory recall.

Change is never sudden. Little drips eventually cause floods and it’s the floods that seem so sudden.

Sometime around the turn of the century (2100) American citizens started electing politicians born in foreign lands. It was chic, the global thing to do. This is how it happened.

In 2075, a boom of immigrants came to our shores. Some looked for work, while others heard about the redistribution plan (the plan that took my uncle’s money) and thought they could get on the government dole.

If you were from Mexico, you moved into a neighborhood primarily filled with Hispanics. The same would go for French, German, Italian, and so on. Even though the immigrants became American citizens, they kept ties to their mother country. The political elections were local at first. Someone from an ethnic neighborhood would run for county commissioner or state representative, and then it grew to bigger elections.

One candidate for senator ran a political add saying, “I’m not from here, which is why you should vote for me.”

Americans loved that kind of talk. We were trained to hate the founding fathers and the mess they started. The slow drip began to fill Congress.

By the time 2125 rolled around the majority of the Senate and House were foreign born Americans. When Congress was sworn in that year, the oath had to be translated in four languages.

Let it be known, this is the time America’s legs started to buckle. Congress passed a bill allowing a President to be born on foreign soil…. And America’s people cheered.

Turning my thoughts to other matters during this time,

April 1st 2130, private logging and lumber mills were shutdown due to their carbon footprint.
The government oversaw a few plants out west and the companies ran under the name, “Green Friendly Pulp.”

To reduce the carbon footprint, all new cars had an ERIC scanner built in. This will track the vehicle’s carbon output per week. Once the maximum output is reached, the car shuts down no matter where you are, then the device resets every Monday. However, the government does give incentives. You can trade a week’s worth of paper products for one carbon credit applied to your ERIC card.

In June of 2132, all houses built before 2050 were bulldozed over. The government said older homes didn’t meet new eco-friendly codes. Residents who owned their mortgage free and clear relinquished their deeds in lieu of “Green Government” dwellings. An existing mortgage would roll over to the new residence.

The old abandoned buildings of Wall Street finally came down as well. The mayor of New York, Cornett Laroque, French born who is rumored to run for President, held a green ribbon cutting ceremony. He declared, “Wall Street is now Green Street.”

Paper money came to an end January 1st 2135. It really wasn’t a big deal; it’s been years since I’ve seen a real dollar. But it was kind of sad.

On May 3rd 2136 Congress renamed Christmas to Winters Day. To help ease the transformation, on December 25th, the government issued one carbon credit to every ERIC card.

As my days come to a close, I’m preparing a way for the Bigsby letters to go forward. I’ve had the misfortune of outliving my two children. Their deaths cause a pain too great to expose in this letter. Besides, the patriarch, Hamilton Bigsby, had a vision for these letters, and thought personal diaries should be kept separate.

The book and letters will be in the watch of Regan Bigsby, my grandnephew.

Martha Bigsby Dupree
_________________________________________________

Martha Bigsby Dupree died September 11th 2139, she was 98 years old.
This is the fifth installment to the Bigsby letters, and by the time my correspondence is finished, the letters and book will have survived for over one hundred years.

In a few words let me tell about what I do. (Sorry Hamilton for getting personal.)

I run “Green Audits” for the government. A hundred years ago, I’d been called an IRS agent. But since most citizens work for the government, taxes are just an ERIC card download on April 15th.

I know old Hamilton Bigsby would get a kick out of our name. Officially, agents like me work for the Green Audit Service, but we go by the acronym GAS.

A typical GAS agent spends his day looking for black market paper goods, or busting an ERIC card hacking ring. We also monitor blogs for buzzwords like, barter, trade, negotiate, and anything that gave the impression ERIC was being bypassed.

Typical GAS agents were not well liked. Citizens panic when they know the GAS man was coming.

However, I’m not typical.

I’ve known about the book and the Bigsby letters since I was a small child. Auntie Martha read American History to me before I could read. I spent countless hours going over, The Revolution, Civil War and even learned about the man I’m named after, Ronald Reagan.

School never taught me how America beat back communism and won the cold war or defeated Hitler in a World War. None of my friends knew this, and I guess they didn’t care. But because of Hamilton Bigsby, I share a memory of America, they will never know.

Since I can remember I’ve always wanted to work for the government. Odd you say since I’m a descendant of Hamilton Bigsby. Not when you know what I really do.

Back in 2140 a slight glitch threw ERIC out of whack, and carbon credits were issued by the thousands. People enjoyed a weeks worth of driving, buying paper, and using electricity without worrying about overloading their ERIC card. For the first time in my life I saw smiling faces, opposed to “I’m doing this to save the planet”—smiles. That slight glitch was I. See, I know my way around a government computer.

There was another time when the whole department worked on an ERIC card hacking case. We spent countless hours chasing numbers on our database. Matching I.D’s with numbers then backtracking to addresses. After 2 years and thousands of man-hours, the investigation led us to the ringleader and his cohorts. The database said the White House and the Capital Building is where the criminals lived…. Oops, how did that happen? That one was for you Hamilton.

I don’t tell you this because I think of me as a hero. Fact is things are bad. If I can put real smiles on faces then I’m carrying the torch for the Bigsby name.

Now for the history buffs, here’s the grave news.

On November 3rd 2144, the United States elected Cornett Laroque as the next President. His victory speech started in English and finished in French.

Shortly after taking office he challenged the Constitution in the Supreme Court. One year later on the first Monday in October, the Constitution was ruled unconstitutional, yep, only in America. A new document one of zeitgeist (German for spirit of the times) as President Laroque said, it would be a more global foundation to set our laws by.

The bandwidth crash of 2146 ended all storage on the web. Highways, sub ports, alleys, and road patches, which have been added to since the original Internet was mapped out, were gone in a matter of seconds. No more blogs, archives, or stored letters from friends. (Hamilton, you’re a genius.) However, ERIC managed to stay intact.

The Internet has changed over the years, but you still could have found reference to the founding fathers if you knew which alleys to hit. Of course, citizens knew GAS agents were lurking in theses alleys waiting to attack with a green audit. But now even the brave had no way to discover America’s past.

In 2148 the President formed an alliance with 54 countries and called it Global 55. This Globalization in the President’s words “Will save the planet.” All countries in the alliance will follow laws from the new Constitution called, Novo, which is Latin meaning, to make anew, refresh, or revive.

According to Novo, free speech and organized religion fall under rule 5-68-2. It states; words spoken, written, or read, including places of worship and spiritual gatherings, which could be interpreted as harsh or mean spirited to the common goal of humanity, will be charged with treason. The law also protects Global 55 from criticisms by such persons.

In addendum 5-68-3: Musicians, poets, novelist, and freelance writers must have their works reviewed by the Global Bureau of Expression before publication.

Novo also created a vacuum of lawyers and legal professionals. Global 55 setup new universities to teach Novo to current attorneys under the age of 45. The older lawyers were placed in employment suited for their age.

Older universities were made into re-education camps. They teach Greenhouse Gases 101, and stuff like “White Men Who Raped The Planet.”

The American flag began to disappear around 2152. State houses and government buildings slowly replaced it with a weird looking flag with 55 green apples and the words, “Under Construction.”
The name Ameri

_________________________________________________

Reagan Bigsby disappeared March 12th 2153. I’m his son, Ronald Bigsby, and after discovering the letters I think I know why. As you see, the previous letter stopped suddenly. Dad called me on the night of March 11th 2153 and said, “They’re here!”

It took me off guard; I’d never heard panic in his voice.

He then said, “Just listen, up in the attic you’ll find a red container with the words Coleman printed on its white lid. The contents will explain themselves. You have to keep the Bigsby letters safe, don’t let anybody see you. The reason I never told you was for your own safety. I have to go; they’re breaking down the door. Don’t call the police and I never spoke to you.”
Then he hung up the phone.

My mom died a year earlier, so at first I thought maybe he was suffering from some sort of depression or mad behavior.

When I arrived at my dad’s apartment building, a handyman with tools walked past me. I thought nothing of it at the time, until it hit me. Dad said they were breaking down the door. Something told me to keep walking past Dad’s door and act like I’m a resident of the complex. As I passed the door I noticed fresh paint on its casing. Panic really set in. I happened to have a buddy living at the same complex. I went there and told him I was having a fight with my girlfriend and could I stay the night. Thoughts raced through my head all night. Dad worked for the government, why didn’t he want me to call the police? I kept glancing out the window, when one unmarked government car left, another one would take its place.

I now know they were waiting for any conspirators to show up.

The next day I left by way of the back entrance and ran to my girlfriends housing unit. (About 3 miles) I then took her car and drove back to my Dad’s place. It was very hard acting nonchalant walking up the steps, especially when I noticed a government agent leaving his vehicle and following me.

Dad taught me how fake my way through a government rent-a-cop interrogation, so I was prepared. (Dad called them rent-a-cop, because most new federal workers were placed on neighborhood patrol.)

Instead of reaching for my key, I stopped and knocked on the door and yelled, “Dad?” Of course no one answered. I could still smell fresh paint from the night before, but dare not look or examine the casing. The rent-a-cop walked past like he was a tenant. I said out loud, “He was supposed to wait for me; I bet the old man forgot.” The cop went around the corner, but I could tell he was still in earshot. I jammed the key in the door and quickly went inside. After a peek out the window, I pulled down the attic ladder and scurried up the steps to a small storage place between both floors.

There it was a red container with the words Coleman on the lid. I flipped it open. Time wouldn’t let me study the content inside the yellow envelope and hardback book I stuffed inside my jacket and pants. I knew if this was what they are looking for it was only a matter of time. The government would only wait for conspirators for so long before they tore Dads place apart.

I grabbed a cheese sandwich from the refrigerator and locked the door behind me. The rent-a-cop happened to be coming back my way. I smiled with the sandwich stuffed in my face and said, “That will teach him for not waiting, I got the last sandwich.”

The cop acted uninterested, but his report will be, Reagan Bigsby’s son dropped by. They were going some place together, but the son thought Reagan already left. The son stole a sandwich.
That happened over thirty years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday.

I waited a day, and then reported Dad missing. But after reading the Bigsby letters I knew what happened. His deeds finally caught up to him. Over the years, so many people have come up to me and whispered in my ear how special Reagan Bigsby was. After reading the book, “American History,” I’d like to think of my Dad as a latter day, “Son of Liberty.”

I’m sad to report things have gotten worse since my dad disappeared. His last written words were: The name Ameri

I think I know where the sentence was going, and this is how it would’ve gone. “The name America no longer exists.”

March 1st 2153. In order to unify, Global 55 voted to draw new boundaries. The United States of America, Mexico, and Canada formed under one flag. The new country is called Siempre Verde, which in Spanish means “Forever Green.” The new flag looks like an American flag, but the stripes are green and an oak tree replaced the stars. Siempre Verde’s new capital is in Quebec.

Things moved quickly after reorganization. The former US President along with Congress were assigned posts within the Global Coalition until their terms expired. Europe went through the same melding process. It seemed in a blink of an eye, the Global 55 went to The United Global Community (UGC). This swift modification resulted in forming nine counsels governed by one order.

The nine Counsels and new world looks like this.

• North America is now Siempre Verde

• South and Central America is now Labruscum (Latin meaning, the wild grape)

Europe was divided in quarters.

• North is named Mellitus: (Sweet as honey)

• South is named Nitor: (Brilliance, brightness, glow, elegance)

• East is named Nobis (The world belongs to us)

• West is named Pactus (Agreed-upon, stipulated, betrothed)

• The Oceania countries were named Recro (To recreate, restore, revive)

• Asia renamed Securus (Safe, secure, free from care, unworried, unconcerned)

• Africa and the Middle East still have some hot spots. The boundaries which fall under, The United Global Community is named, Arbustum (A vineyard planted with trees)

Rogue countries or groups are not recognized by the United Global Community or its Counsels.

The 10 year span from 2153 to 2163 was what the UGC called; “A cleansing period.”

This cleansing period left leaders scrambling for positions and controlling power. Chaos littered the streets. It seemed for a while the end was near. Assassinations happened and nuclear weapons somehow appeared again and were threatened. I picture it akin to when the Continental Congress was trying to agree on how to set up the new country; only this time delegates had the full arsenal of global destruction at their fingertips.

The funny thing, it was done in the name of saving the planet. The same group that worried about my carbon footprint didn’t mind nuclear fallout, as long as they could set the rules. I guess that’s politics.

From the power struggle came the “Quorum 9” known as Q9. They represent the nine Counsels under the United Global Community. How they got elected, I have no idea, it just happened one day. The Q9 elects one leader to serve as President for a 10 year term.
Local officials are appointed. Mostly, they come from the new universities that Global 55 setup years ago.

All citizens work for the government and receive the same pay.

Have we gone so far into the future, we’re coming back to the past? Because it reminds me of communism, which I know about, thanks to a little history book I hold in my hand.

What else can I say? I’ve witnessed the great experiment, America, die. Over one hundred and forty years ago Hamilton Bigsby diagnosed her cancer. And now, the burden falls on me to report her obituary.

Fare thee well Hamilton, and The United States of America, fare thee well indeed.

Ronald Bigsby
____________________________________________________

I’m Ethan Bigsby; I guess I’m a distant relative of Ronald Bigsby, even though I’ve never met Ronald or his immediate family.

One day there was a knock on my door. No one was there, yet a small box lay on my doormat. The package didn’t have a name or return address. Curious, but still thinking they had the wrong apartment, I left the box unopened for about a week.

I kept thinking what could be in the box? Finally my mind couldn’t stand it; I decided to end the curiosity and pulled on the flimsy government-made cardboard box. The first thing I saw was a handwritten note, which read, “Ronald Bigsby died in his sleep on August 9th 2193, he was 80 years old.”

I thought it odd to see handwriting, even odder than someone with my last name dying. Then I found six letters all in the same handwriting that appeared to span over generations. I was taken back, ill prepared to recognize what I had in my hands. I passed over the letters because of what I saw next. I don’t remember the last time I saw one, but there it was… a book. I thought they were all destroyed on Earth Day when I was a kid. It was about the time of reconstruction. Mind you, they weren’t illegal, but ERIC gave you a carbon credit if you turned in your books. It was a way to apologize to the forest.

My wife and I spent the night reading American History and the Bigsby letters… Twice! I’d never been sadder and at the same time never more proud to be a Bigsby. I truly believe God left the package at my door and wanted me to continue documenting the plight of his land.
I’ve spent the last several years working on my penmanship so the letters will be legible.

In 2178 the west coast of Siempre Verde America caught fire. Common sense would tell you it was bound to happen when the UGC banned cutting down trees to manage the undergrowth. Now, what was California (I read the book) is a constant inferno and has burned for years. I live two thousand miles away and on some days ashes fall on my head. Of course the UGC blames its citizens for the firestorm and deducts two carbon credits from their ERIC.

The UGC announced Seadray (Some synthetic mixture at a government lab) will not work as a fuel alternative due to possible ozone damage.

Around 2180 water became the new concern of the day (again). Even though rain is at an all time high and we’ve had desalinization plants for years and the earth is primarily made of water, we must conserve, so says the Q9. Outhouses are back in style, but with an ERIC twist. The government started installing small self-contained units outside each housing complex. When one needs to go, they swipe their Eric on the door and then sit on the government’s waterless throne. For now, the outhouses aren’t mandatory, but citizens receive 1/32nd of a carbon credit each time the units are used. To stop miscreants, ERIC will measure and match DNA dropped below to its user sitting above.

I think one reason the UGC made thousands of these things, was to put people to work. Like I said, we have plenty of water, but the government needs more non-thinking jobs for its citizens. Well the government got what it bargained for. Someone actually came up with a slogan, the slogan then was approved by some low-level manager, which he bumped up to a committee. The committee green lighted the slogan and passed it on to the Global Bureau of Expression for final approval.

I guess you’re wondering why I’m telling you all the steps this slogan went through. I’ll let you decide. The slogan, “For all responsible tenants,” was painted on thousands of ERIC outhouse doors. One day I walk out of my apartment and see a row of these things. And there the first letter of each word stuck out in bright yellow. The words were arranged like this.

For
All
Responsible
Tenants

So, give you one guess as to what these state of the art, high tech, water saving, job providing units were called.

With all the lost freedoms we’ve endured over the years, it’s good to get a little levity at the government’s expense. But good things must end, and a week later crews were hired to repaint the units: Hey, more jobs!

Now for some gravity and what this world is all about.

November 15th 2182 Q9 handed down a law requiring all babies to have ERIC imbedded inside their left forearm. This hits me hard, because on November 16th 2182 my son Abraham was born.

I felt keeping the book and letters was becoming dangerous, but I didn’t care. The one remaining freedom we had was independent thought, as long as we keep it to ourselves. I made the decision, when my son came to the age of understanding; I would tell him about these letters and raise him in America, even if it’s just in our hearts and minds.

In 2198 a small brave group of former scientist decided to go public with new research regarding the environment. They made all their findings with an old fashion slide rule and worked out data using math taught in the 60’s… The 1960’s. (There must have been another Hamilton Bigsby out there, because I’ve never heard of a slide rule.)

They went public in the most interesting way. Somehow they received a list of all ERIC holders and went about mailing their findings. One morning I clicked on my mail to the headline.

THE EARTH IS ROUND, WE LIVE IN THE UNITED STATES AND WE CANNOT DISTROY THE PLANET.

It is a fact the earth’s temperature is not rising.
It is a fact the fires out west were caused by unmanaged undergrowth.
It is a fact trees were meant as a renewable source.
It is fact ozone holes are a natural occurrence and they repair themselves.
It is a fact carbon credits make no sense.
It is a fact the world will end when God wants it too. Not by what we do.

Professors Russ Davis, David Mansfield, James R Miller, Livingston Evens, Terrell Porter, Edward McDonald, and JOHN HANCOCK.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Nobody even whispers that stuff, but there it was on every desktop in the UGC. And then the John Hancock reference, I about fell out of my chair.
I know the professors knew what they were in for, but they were beholden to the facts, even if it meant death.

Their trail was swift and severe. All were executed April 22nd Earth Day 2180 (all but one John Hancock who was never found.)

These men died for their freedom and now, they are free.

Paper became a tough commodity to acquire and I heard whispers about the UGC going paperless. They closed down all but one paper mill, which tells me, paper will soon be for the bare necessities. So I took some calculated risks in an effort to keep a supply for these letters.
January 1st 2210, I clicked on my mail and received this letter from the government.

Mr. Bigsby,
ERIC sees a discrepancy in the amount of notebook paper you’re purchasing. ERIC finds it odd for you to trade in carbon credits for such a wasteful product. Is there any need we should know about? Remember, we are all Global Citizens trying to save a dying planet. If one citizen takes liberties, what would stop the next?
Q9

I wrote back, but made it sound like my 28 year old son was writing.

Dear Q9,
I’m writing on behalf of my father, Ethan Bigsby. I’m Abraham Bigsby; my Dad suffers with bouts of dementia. He used to work on the governments alternative fuel program, which as you know many men who worked on the same project suffer also. He sometimes forgets where he is or what he’s doing. The other day I caught him using notebook paper after a bodily function. It was not a pretty sight. Come to find out he thought he was being more “Earth Friendly” using notebook paper instead of toilet tissue.

When I asked him how? He replied, “Because I save it and use the other side the next time.”
Trust me, I’ve had a long talk with him, and it’s taken care of.

Sincerely
Abraham Bigsby

True I did work on these projects, but I still have my wits about me. This was Q9’s reply.

Mr. Bigsby,
Nothing makes Q9 more proud than one of its citizens thinking about the environment. We know you were trying to be resourceful with notebook paper. However, notebook paper is not the answer. Please use approved Green Wipes for your personal hygiene.
For your service to UGC, we have adjusted ERIC and gave you 10 carbon credits.
Have a wonderful day
Q9

In April of 2212, Q9 reprimands Siempre Verde, America for having a bigger footprint than the other Councils. Starting in 2200, citizens can lose their freedom if ERIC deems them wasteful. I know our freedoms seemed years ago, but this is the kind of freedoms the UGC was talking about.

• The guilty will have cameras placed in their dwellings

• Water gauges will limit a family to 5 gallons per day

• Random search for banned items

• Lights will be cut off at 8:00pm and not turned back on until 8:00am the next morning.

You don’t have to be a genius to figure out ERIC went crazy. The government had to setup a special court to try all the cases. Every citizen clicks on their mail each morning to find out if they’re wanted in “Freedom Court”

So far I’ve been lucky, I think it’s because ERIC marked me crazy over the notebook paper issue. But I don’t think Q9 or ERIC will be happy until every citizen’s freedom is revoked.
Ethen Bigsby
____________________________________________________
My dad, Ethen Bigsby, died October 20th 2215, his last words were, “Let freedom ring.”

Now the Bigsby letters falls into my hands, Abraham Bigsby. When I was nine, my dad sat me down and read the Bigsby letters. He then gave me the book and I discovered America. My father would give me little a test on the Constitution or the capitals of all the former states. We’d stay up past midnight sometimes and read by candlelight, the words of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Kennedy. My father always choked up when he read Ronald Reagan’s speech about a shining city on a hill, and then tears would fall as he continued Reagan’s quote, “Man is not free unless government is limited.” That thought is so foreign now.

These great men were robbed from their place in history by an environmental crisis that didn’t exist. It’s obvious, Hamilton Bigsby knew it nearly 200 years ago and it’s still true today. Everything we’ve done or will do has no affect on this floating globe we call earth.

May 5th 2218, Q9 handed down a law that all citizens lights should be off by 8:00 pm. Unlike those who have lost their freedom in the courts, this law is on the honor system. But ERIC will monitor the usage and report any violators.

July 4th 2225, Q9 announces a neighborhood watch plan. A citizen receives 1 carbon credit for reporting a wasteful resident. If the resident is prosecuted, the whistle blower gets an additional 5 credits. (I think they picked July 4th to tweak anyone who might know its meaning.)

June 10th 2230, citizens must take a parenting class before having children. If a child is born under an unlicensed parent, the child will become property of UGC. My feeling is that it was to create new jobs, one being teachers for the class, and the other for the Department of Child Placement.

October 29th 2235, due to health concerns, Q9 will have ERIC evaluate grocery purchases and calculate caloric intake per household. ERIC limits junk food and red meat to unhealthy families.

August 15th 2238, my wife and I took our first parenting class. The first thing we were told was how selfish we were for bringing a child into a dying planet. Then they tried to bribe us with 25 carbon credits if my wife had an abortion.

March 28th 2239, my son Seth was born, we picked the name because in Hebrew it means, “The Appointed.”

September 7th 2248, the UGC went paperless. (Hamilton, your fears are a reality.) I made the mistake of speaking up at Seth’s school. Something I knew would come back to haunt me.

September 8th 2248, 5 carbon credits were deducted from my ERIC along with this note.

Mr. Bigsby,
Your conduct was unacceptable. We live in a society where adults act responsible. For now, this matter will be handled on a local level. Let me make this perfectly clear, one more outburst and I will have no choice but report you to Q9. I have the authority Mr. Bigsby, just try me.

Have a Green Day
Principal Eric Crawford

Now let me tell my version of what happened. I walked Seth into his classroom and his teacher was all giddy. She said, “Isn’t it wonderful we’re paperless.”

All I said was, “Yeah paperless, I guess I’ll have to cut down my own trees now.” Oh, and I did roll my eyes.

After I said that, she exploded with verbal abuse towards me. Anyway, I should have known better.

The paper ban left me with some difficulties. Do I continue wasting paper on little notes to recall my memory, or do I leave the pages blank for my son to use in the next letter. I choose the latter. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll rewrite the letters, starting with Hamilton Bigsby and carry it through to these last few sentences. That will give the Bigsby Letters one last fresh rewrite.

Seth my son, the Appointed, you have the remaining sheets of precious pulp.
Abraham Bigsby
_______________________________________________

Seth looked up at his son. “That was your grandfathers last written words.”

Sadness spoke through Hamilton’s eyes, while thoughts stroked his insecure mind. He just witnessed history told by unknown relatives about an unimaginable place. What it must have been like to go to a ballgame or taste something called a banana, he thought. Life before ERIC was different indeed, and now Hamilton had a map to trace its past.

Inside the candlelit bedroom, Hamilton stared at the American History book, wondering what untold stories lie within. His trance was broken by his father’s words.

“Are you okay, son?” Seth said.

“Yes sir,” Hamilton said softly.

“My father raised me on these letters and preached the Bill of Rights inside our tiny apartment. He had a dream to find America again. Somehow, someway he was going to live in freedom,” Seth said. “But that never…”

Suddenly there were three faint yet distinctive taps from the apartment next door. Seth stopped, and went to the wall and tapped three times.

“Dad, what is it?” Hamilton said.

“It’s time,” Seth then ran to the other side of his apartment and tapped three times, and then turned to his son who followed behind.

“Hamilton, brave men died for freedom, now you know how it was lost. We don’t have much time, so I’m asking you to just trust me.”

“I’m scared, who’s knocking on the walls?”

“Son, I’ve been scared ever since I can remember. It’s time to put fear aside and face a brave New World. For over a year I’ve been planning our escape. When I came home tonight, I saw the signal in our neighbor’s window, telling me all is ready.”

“Escape,” Hamilton said. “All is ready?”

“Yes, I put up a white curtain in our window about two weeks ago. Last week, Mr. and Mrs. Burton put up a red curtain, and tonight the Anderson family put up a blue curtain, which means they’re ready. The knocks meant we have thirty minutes before we leave.”

“Leave, to where? And we’re all going, even Marques and Jennifer Anderson?” Hamilton questioned.

“Yes all of us, even your two best friends. They just found out as well, we didn’t want worry you guys about this, everything had to look normal.”

“But where Dad, where are we going? ERIC is everywhere.”

“Not everywhere son,” Seth said. “There’s a place where freedom still exists, where children run free and bananas grow on trees. This new place lives under our former US Constitution. They use money just like the old days and you choose your job, it doesn’t choose you. Just think, no more lights out by eight o’clock, no ERIC telling you what you can’t buy, and best of all the right to vote.”

“Vote?” Hamilton asked.

“Yes, all citizens once they turn eighteen can vote for the President and other officials. And we will be citizens,” Seth said.

“I don’t understand Dad, how come the Q9 lets them do this?”

“Ah, the Q9 doesn’t recognize Cuba, therefore they don’t exist, or they don’t want you to know they exist.”

“Cuba, that’s what it’s called?” Hamilton said.

“Cuba, the land of the free,” Seth said. "See son, way back when the globe went through reorganization Cuba wouldn’t play along. The newly formed UGC cut ties and left them to fend for themselves. The UGC figured Cuba would come running to the table once supplies dried up. But that never happened, instead Cuba flourished under what is called capitalism. They made trade deals with other small countries and built industries inside their borders. It’s what America did five hundred years ago.”

“How can we get there, isn’t it illegal to leave our district without permission?”

“That’s why it’s taken a year to set up. In a few minutes there will be a knock on the door. Two men who we’ve never met will escort all of us to an underground smuggling ring. For three days we’ll travel back roads and stay in safe houses along the way until we reach the beach. In the cover of darkness, we’ll get on a boat that’s made to look like a government fishing vessel. Then all we have to do is get into international waters and wait for a Cuban patrol boat to pick us up.”

“And they’ll let us in?” Hamilton asked.

Cuba considers anyone living in the former US a political prisoner. They’ll take us with open arms.”

There was a quick knock on the door and Seth grabbed the bags he packed days ago. He was ready, Hamilton was ready, and freedom was four days away.

Two hundred and thirty two years ago, Hamilton Bigsby wrote a letter.

The End


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Thursday, May 15, 2008

A Short Story?

I'm not really sure what a short story is, besides the obvious. (A story, probably fiction, shorter than a novel)

The purpose for this blog is to hone my writing skills.You won't find "classic works of literature" here. English Majors click away now, I'm not interested in your rules.

I self-edit and have no idea what I'm doing. I write because it's a hobby. The good, bad, and especially the ugly stands on its own.


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