And, for the first time...the Supreme Court has revoked a fundamental civil right of personal choice and autonomy by sending the question of a woman's right to an abortion back to the states.
Battle lines are already forming between Federal authority and state sovereignty. Women of low income...primarily women of color...will be hit the hardest in states that have already banned abortion to one degree or another.
What fundamental human rights might next be declared nothing more than the opinions of individual states? Segregation? Slavery? The very right to live if you're LGBTQ?
It isn't just social issues on the line, though. The highest court is already weighing in on issues of gun control and climate change, in direct challenges against Federal authority. Issues of national security...maybe even the survival of the environment and consequently of the human race itself...are being decided not by law enforcement agencies, scientists or even by the popular will of the people. But, by ideologue judges appointed as operatives of social change by reactionary politicians and their political bases, which look on the verge of all-out rebellion.
In an already divided country...one in which the validity of the electoral process was recently challenged by a large faction, threatening the peaceful transition of power...these growing divisions look like sparks waiting to ignite the fuel.
This short story takes it to the limit. How far away now is the dividing line between speculative fiction and reality?
****
JUGGERNAUT
2051 A.D.
Bradley’s blood raced as Washington D.C. burned.
The teeming mobs roared like a pack of wild animals, firing
their automatic weapons into the air as the capitol dome went up in
flames. Bradley’s mind exploded like a
thunderbolt as he raised his hands, the heat of the fire washing over him as
his voice boomed over the crowd through a hundred hovering audio drones.
“My fellow Americans…” The mob fell into a hush at the sound
of his voice. He was awed at the sway he
held over them. “The 2nd
American Revolution is successful! The
elite has been purged, the abortion mills have been destroyed, the perversions
of birth control and sexual deviancy have been eradicated, our right to bear
arms is vindicated, and American industry is free. The coal plants are open, the oil
flows…American power is revived. America
is ours again!” The crowd exploded. His heart throbbed as they chanted his
name. He saw the dead bodies in the
distance, dangling from hangman’s ropes and reveled in his own power.
His mind flooded with memories. Once his hand-picked judges had handed the
power of life and death to the state politicians, the battle was won. They’d armed the masses…his hand-picked
rabble rousers had led the uprisings.
The cities had burned, and martial law had made his power absolute.
Now, he could build…
***
2073 A.D.
Bradley shuddered and slammed his fist into his desk as the
entire underground complex seemed to tremble around him. He cursed as he looked up at the domed
ceiling. The distant bombing seemed to
get closer every day. The immense plasma
screens around him conveyed the scenes of surface bombardment from the
Euro-Asian space platforms, numbers scrolling across the screens totaling the
daily body counts…He snickered, switching the views to the underground
monitors.
Construction of the subterranean cities was well
underway. The coal plants had been moved
deep underground where the bombing couldn’t reach them. Construction round the clock. Jobs, jobs, jobs. He almost laughed, shaking his head. The idiots worked themselves to death
building cities they’d never live in. Cities
only for winners like him. They barely
noticed the flooded coastal cities, the tornadoes leveling the heartland, the
droughts. Of course not, he thought,
switching the screens to scenes of black ghettoes burning. Crematoria spewing the ashes of assorted
undesirables into a darkening sky.
Police squads kicking in the door of every domicile where a pregnancy
implant monitor had gone dead. They were too busy killing each other to notice
the old world was dying. The juggernaut of
progress couldn’t be stopped.
“By the Chancellor’s leave…”
He started as his latest Chief of Staff, Jason Barrett
entered unannounced. “What is it,
Barrett,” he grumbled, switching off the screens, irritated at having his daily
entertainment interrupted.
Barrett’s forehead was creased. The dark circles under his eyes and his
gravelly voice revealed he hadn’t been getting much sleep. “Chancellor…we need more conscription. The black and Hispanic insurgents are getting
increasingly organized, and arms are getting to them from the Euro-Asian
Alliance. And, refugees from the storm
areas are beginning to join them. I’ll
need at least…”
“Forget conscription,” Bradley said, pouring himself a
bourbon. “I need all the manpower I can
get for the construction projects.
Organize more militias, for God’s sake.
There’s no shortage of dead weight up there, and all of it armed. Use some of it.” He tossed one back and poured himself
another, smiling at the buzz.
Barrett sighed.
“Sir…they’re getting hungry.
Hungry people get desperate fast.”
Bradley swirled the ice in his glass. “Barrett…you forget the perfectly balanced
nature of the times in which we live.”
He patted the other man’s shoulder and whispered close by his ear. “As half the population shrinks, the other
half gets fed.” He switched one screen
to a scene of a food production mill where the dead bodies of a generation he’d
saved from the abortion mills were being processed into raw protein food
stuffs. He chuckled, taking a swallow. “Increase food production. More mass executions of the homeless, more
anti-homosexuality sweeps. Just step up
food production.” He switched the screen
to moaning porn scenes.
“One other thing, Chancellor…We’ve received another entreaty
from the E.A.A. They’re willing to
negotiate a cease-fire if we cut back on coal and oil.”
“Absolutely not! How
many times do we have to go over this?
If we cut back on fossil fuels, the economy suffers. Besides, we’d see hydro and solar cropping up
all over the continent before you know it.
No…centralized power grids are key to maintaining control. You said yourself rebellions are flaring
up. The last thing we need now is to cut
back on the juice. Besides…” He finished off his drink. “The more of them that die in the heat and
the storms, the less we have to worry about.”
He smiled, slapping Barrett’s shoulder.
“Dad…”
He grinned broadly as his daughter Rachel entered. Radiantly beautiful as ever. So like her late mother. He found himself having to fight off certain
urges where Rachel was concerned. “Kitten…always
a pleasure, but I’m a little busy right now…”
“Dad, this is important!” Her lovely face flushed as she
stamped her foot and raised her voice.
“I’m trying to throw the biggest party of the season, and your security
staff is telling me I can’t have my friends from Houston or the New York
platforms, because of travel restrictions?!”
“Everything’s locked down because of the insurgency, Miss,”
Barrett explained.
“I wasn’t asking you!
Dad…”
Just as Bradley was about to pour himself a stronger drink,
Claudette…his lovely black attendant entered, in one of her sexiest
form-fitting mini-dresses. One he’d had
designed personally. He looked her over
and nodded approvingly.
“Is now a bad time?” Claudette asked. “This is our usual hour.”
“It’s never a bad time for you, my dear.” He licked his lips and smiled. “That will be all for now, Barrett.”
“What about my party, dad?” Rachel demanded. “Is your little whore more important than
me?”
He rolled his eyes, wondering what expensive gift would
placate her this time. Alarm bells and
strobing red lights shrieked across his nerves. Barrett put his phone to his
ear, sweat glistening on his forehead as he switched the screens to a scene of
explosions in the coal mines… black and Hispanic slave workers armed with
assault rifles blazing away, killing their overseers. Bradley’s blood boiled. “Barrett…what in hell…?”
The man stared at him, the color draining out of his
face. “E.A.A. commandoes smuggled
weapons to the slaves. There are revolts
in every mine and explosions spreading towards the main power plants.”
“Where the hell were your guards?!” he shouted, his face
flushed, his voice cracking.
“The security gates were opened and the guard units moved on
your authorization, Chancellor.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I never authorized…” He froze, as in a nightmare as Rachel pulled
a plasma gun and pumped three rounds into his stomach. The pain was blinding, the room
spinning. He barely saw Claudette pull
her own gun and blow Barrett’s head off before he hit the floor. Bradley’s hand came away from his stomach
drenched in blood.
“You’re so careless with your security access codes,
father,” Rachel said with a grin. “Did I
do all right, Darling?” she asked, stroking Claudette’s long, luxuriant hair.
“You were perfect, my love,” Claudette replied, sliding her
arm around Rachel’s slender waist and kissing her fully on the lips. “But, we have to hurry. The shuttle’s waiting.”
Bradley’s mind was reeling, his heart fluttering. “Why?” he whispered.
“Claudette’s under cover for the E.A.A., of course,” Rachel
answered with a sneer. “They’ve granted
me asylum in Europe in exchange for my help.
I understand Paris is lovely this time of year. Give mom my
regards.” She smiled as she pointed her
gun at his head and fired.
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