Prologue

I

The cannonball slid firmly into place. It was frightened, alone. Its fear, however, was yet newly dawned when it burst from the artillery and was afloat in the magnificent emptiness of the sky. How free it soared; king above the world; rising, rising, dropping rapidly toward a grand collision with the earth; freedom gone; existence dissipated in a tremendous discharge of power and ghastly beauty. Outward spread fire and fragment through air concussed, splinters of house, torso of dog, porchlight, table, window, house interior; gone, disassembled in the chaotic aftermath of the lone cannonball’s glorious death. A hundred others followed after, ravaging the town, but death could find no victory, save the lone dog without a master, gnawing on a stolen turkey bone; life had already vacated this place and taken with it all that was valuable so, as the lines of soldiers filtered cautiously amongst the ruins, they found nothing to sustain them, save the few structures unharmed in the bombardment, and who among them would dine at those tables except the elite minds that began not only this needless attack but the revolution? These soldiers with feet blistered, foraging in the ruins for scraps of food and cloth, making fires from the scattered remains of homes and palaces; they shall not benefit this chill night from the warm fireplaces and quilted blankets where the generals sleep. They shall shiver, suffer, moan and attempt to weep, desiring tears of wine so that they might drink and sleep and dream of a better life, or even of life as it was before; they shall bear unreasonable burdens, walk improbable paths, accept death, endure foolishness, and then they shall say, “No more.” No more shall we be slaves and march at the behest of a few undesirable men for the name of any nation. No more will we strangle ourselves so that they may consider the war well fought, well played and strategized. No more shall we take up weapons against men with whom we hold more in common than those that order us to take up these arms. No more will we starve while others are full and feed scraps to their pets and servants. We are free men now, each of us; all of us.

II

Marcine turned in his bed; vague thoughts, feelings, streaming through his mind, narrowly out of reach of consciousness. An idea was forming, but he wondered whether it would ever reach forth from his soul and grace the scattered papers of his room. Amongst the shadows of the early morn, the meager furnishings of the apartment spun before his half awakened eyes; a small desk, cracked, old, covered with papers; poems, ideas, thoughts, grocery lists; all absentmindedly placed together in an order his mind no longer can recall; a table, beside the desk, likewise hidden by papers save one small area cleared for eating; an empty plate and wine glass; one chair; a lamp; the bed; that is all. It was all the same; all clouded, plain. Then his thoughts were vivid for an instant; then gone and in their remembrance he could not recall their sweet eloquence or deep meaning. He used to be able to interpret his soul. He used to be able to. He sat up in bed and looked around his small, dark, room. He had to get out. He needed to observe life.

It was life that inspired him; his muse. To see the geese flying overhead, silhouetted against the rising sun, a river below, void of man, rushing, rushing to the distant sea. The laughter of fools and children. The yipping of dogs; dreams of these creatures unchained, playing unrestrained; hope. The craters on the moon, golden, reflective of emptiness. An oak tree, alone, rising triumphant against time. Life; how wonderful the spirit of existence, flowing throughout everything, unbroken and everlasting. A wisp of dandelion floating on the wind; dipping up, down, against a wall, catching in a woman’s hair, black, wavy, flowing as she briskly trots along a sequestered path, passing silently; wordless looks, thoughts unbound; poetry. Her eyes, blue, radiant with life, perpetual joy; imagined moments of innocent laughter and deep conversation. Marcine’s heart swells with memories, dreams and futures countless as the thoughts within. He is free again. The world once more emits a bright glow of hope. He grasps between his fingers an acorn overlooked by the squirrel whom has built his hold in the tree he rests against. It rolls from fingertip to fingertip, rough, now smooth, and then he cracks it open and eats the fruit. This meal, though meager, shall feed his soul much longer than shall any feast. The sun upon his shoulders, as if he was a flower, imbibes his body with the surging power of life.

Marcine returns to his compartment and flings wide the window. The papers are swept by the breeze from the desk and table, and as he gathers them in, he remembers their forgotten order and feverishly begins to craft the masterpiece he has always believed he could write.

There was a whisper. Marcine opened his eyes and listened. There was perfection in its tone. His soul leapt; he felt life. He was floating, bathed by grace, without perception of the commonplace. He was warm, as if held in the bosom of heaven. The whisper spoke, and he transcribed; its voice was inspiration; his muse. Great words he wrote, pages in a breath, and then; thunder; fire; hate; mankind was at hand. The warmth was gone; the whisper drowned in the overwhelming noise of a mob outside. Distraught, he glared through his window. There was a crowd in the street, screaming, advancing towards the capital.

III

There was a gentle rustling at the rear of the cell, and then the door opened. Inquisitive, the inmate walked slowly to the opening and peaked out, glancing first to the left and then to the right. No one. He stepped into the hall. At the end another door was opened, revealing light. Vaguely he remembered being led through that door to his cage. In a bound he was outside. No one was in sight. He breathed in deeply and began to run, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his prison as he possibly could. At length he came to the front gate. It was open, and he walked into the street. There was a woman across the road, running. She saw him, screamed and ran faster. In the direction she ran from were great noises. Frightened by these, he ran after her. She looked back and saw him, screamed again and shut herself inside a shop. No one else was around. He kept running. It felt good to stretch his legs.

The Lion, the prisoner, after all, was a lion, ran tirelessly from the people that had long gawked at him and tempted him with sweet smells beyond the fence. He was unused, however, to people running from him. He had never before met terror, nor did he realize he was the cause of it. But he chose his path well and found himself in deserted streets, the only reminder of men the distant din from whence he came; that which the woman had been running from. He slowed his gait and observed the world around him. The buildings were new to him, but then so was everything; he did not remember ever being anywhere but inside the cage. He was now free, but what was freedom?

IV

Two years had the revolt, or civil war, carried itself upon the land before the soldiers stopped fighting and returned home. It was an unusual situation; no one had won. The previous government could by no means claim power, nor could the rebels, but oddly no one seemed to care at first. Commerce continued; in fact it picked up as the men returned and filled some their old jobs, others those new. Bartering quickly increased. People who could not find jobs in the cities began to move to the country. Some factories closed, especially those making supplies for the opposing war efforts. Most local governments continued to function, while most of the national laws went unheeded. Things were changing at an incredible rate.

Of course a few scattered battles embroiled; some people had been soldiers too long to put down their arms. Actually, few people did put down their arms; instead they took them home. A few bands of now armyless soldiers formed gangs and attempted to terrorize villages and towns for profit. But the towns were all armed and drove them away. No one wanted to fight a war, but assuredly they would defend their homes. Thus chaos, which many observers, foreign and domestic alike, predicted, did not happen. It seemed a regression almost to the old days when the land was a loose union of city-states without a central government. And oddly, it worked. Everyone just minded their own areas. The roads were kept by the cities. The national bank continued to make money independently of the national government. The currency dropped some internationally, but not a great deal. The factories still produced goods. The ports were still open. Life continued as it had. Customs clerks went to work and still were paid. Tourism resumed after the two years of war. And so it continued for a little less than three months. Then the politicians began to clamor that a federal government was needed. They began to campaign and push for elections. They began to work on the people’s minds, and the people were too used to them being there to realize the nation was running itself quite well without them.

Chapter One

"There is no God.” Said the Atheist.

“By what proof?” Asked Marcine.

“By the fossil record, by evolution, by logic.”

“By logic? What strange logic must it be that by accepting one thing as true another, which the first does not preclude, is dismissed as false. Even if evolution is true, this does not in any way disprove God. Even if there are skeletons of human type a million years old, this does not disprove that God created Adam. It is as saying that this piece of fruit is an orange, therefore there is no such thing as an apple. Even you must admit the folly in that logic.”

“Yes. I have never considered as such. But this does not change my belief that there is no God.”

“Now you speak more accurately. You believe. You have no proof, just as the man of God, of any God, has no proof that the deity he believes in is true. Your atheism is merely a religion such as theirs. You have your fossils and theories by which you construct your belief, the same as they have their histories and religious texts to construct theirs.”

“But science has proven false so much of what religion believes.”

“This is true, but the possibility exists that God will prove false much of what science believes.”

“Science is fact. It cannot be changed.”

“How long have you lived?”

“What? Thirty-three.”

“In that time, how much of it have you watched carbon decompose?”

“None.”

“Yet you accept that it deteriorates at a set pace and thus are determined the age of fossils?”

“Yes.”

“Now, forgive my ignorance of the scientific proof, but has anyone watched a piece of carbon decompose for, say, a hundred years?”

“Of course not, but it holds at a regular rate.”

“Yes, yes, mathematically it should, of course, but suppose it does not? Suppose its half lives hold to the theory for a thousand years, and then suddenly the rate triples, quadruples or slows to a quarter the pace.”

“That would not happen.”

“Probably not, but the possibility exists. Science is derived from observation and carefully structured conclusions. Gravity, for example, has been observed and calculated for this earth. It has also been calculated for other planets based on the small information observable on earth. But until a man stands on that distant planet, drops a rock and observes its rate of fall, those formulas will not be fully proven. The same as the center of the earth; science has given its theory as to the material of the core based on its many ingenious formulas and machines, but until a sample is taken from that unreachable place, it cannot be known for certain what exists there. There may be elements that do not exist on the surface of the earth that abide within. This other planet, which they state so confidently exists with an iron core; it might well be something different that to their machines gives the properties of iron. All these things are not truths. They are conjectures, well based, yes, on the principles established here on earth, but conjectures nonetheless. This universe contains things mankind has yet to witness. It holds secrets we shall never understand. For all that he believes he knows, man knows little of the Truth. It has been proven endlessly amongst ourselves. As you stated, science disproves constantly the errors of the past. Why then are they so confident that their own summations will not also fall? They who believe they reveal truth become blinded by their own revelations and fail to seek further the observations of life. Do you think Darwin will always be taught in schoolbooks as fact? It was not that many centuries past that children were taught the sun revolved the earth and that the world was flat.”

Chapter Two

Marcine paused at the door. He hated it when he was nervous, and his heart now was twitching uncontrollably. A bead of sweat ran down his side from his underarm. He turned around, took a step away and then paused again. He had to. It was good; it was the best thing he had ever written.

It happened every time he took a new work to his publisher. The man had bought every poem he had ever taken him, but this was different. This was philosophy, or something of that kind; he was not really sure.

“I need to edit it more,” he thought and took another step from the door, “but no, I must.” He turned back and entered the office. The secretary recognized him and smiled.

“Why hello,” she spoke merrily, “it has been quite awhile, hasn’t it? Do you have something new?”

“Yes.” He stammered. He could barely look at her, which he knew was foolish. Why was he so nervous?

“I can’t wait to read it. I love your poems.”

“Thank you.”

The publisher called him into his office.

“Something new?” The man asked, pulling out his reading glasses in expectation. “It has been some time. How have you been?”

“Fine. Fine.” He paused, breathed shortly. “It’s not poetry.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Well... here, just read it.” He handed the manuscript to the older man who sat back in his chair and put his eyeglasses on.

“The Human Being; the Foundation of Humanity.” He read out loud. “Philosophy?” Marcine made a noncommittal gesture. “Something different, eh? I guess I can read it, but I can’t promise anything. This is kind of out of my area.”

“I know,” he was little more relaxed now the paper was out of his hand, “but I have always come to you. It was only fair to come to you.”

“Quite right. Now, let me see.” The publisher leaned over his desk to read. Marcine excused himself and headed to the restroom. The publisher looked up and watched him go before turning to the pages on his desk.

‘Part One: The Societal Body

‘What is the perfect society? Is it not one in which all are equal in as much as they are given full opportunity to reach the apex of their potential? And if every individual can maximize their natural inclinations in such ways to benefit not only themselves but the community of man, there is little left in the way of progress but eradicating the crimes by which mankind harms itself for, indeed, many a man’s greatness is in his brutality. Not until every individual maintains the self-restraint it takes to live without harm to another individual shall society achieve greatness. Only when no one dreams of being a thief, soldier, policeman, lawyer or advertiser shall mankind live in unison. This will happen only when the only occupational title ever used is that of human being.

‘Class has been a stepping stone, and while superiority of mind and strength in varying individuals shall never be erased, nor should it be desired, the opportunity must be given for all human beings to develop such gifts so as to utilize them to the utmost for the betterment of mankind and human society. This cannot be done unless each individual believes without doubt that no one is superior. No position in the world community should be considered of more worth than any other. People merely have different capabilities, and in these they must be successful, but this success must not become a goal or contest. To do well what one is capable of for the betterment of everyone must become a trait inbred into each member of society.

‘At current, few people do as they are capable of, most because they have never discovered what truly they might undertake, while nearly all because of the inefficiency by which the world runs, as well as the irrelevance of much of what society produces and holds dear. It is an absolute waste of human potential to sends droves to work in any of the businesses which revolve around the marketing, advertising, patenting and trade marking of products and services. As with class, such corporate ownership of technology and advances which can benefit all peoples is obsolete. It has served its purpose, as did the industrial revolution and the Renaissance. As society progresses, the individual greed which exists with such preponderance must be replaced with a goal of common human greatness. Business, as it now stands, while it will continue to push technology forward, will continue to widen the gap between the wealthy and poor, as well as continuing to teach each successive generation that greed and deceit are above reproach and that to prey on others for one’s own benefit is not only okay but expected.

‘A reeducation of humanity is needed. Firstly, it must be instilled in the young minds yet to come that they are human beings, never a job title. Secondly, technology which might benefit humanity must be used to that extent rather than to increase the profit of any company. For example, if a new engine was created that ran noiselessly and achieved two hundred miles to the gallon of gasoline, this technology should be given to all automakers so that they might also install it in their automobiles. And when a second maker discovers how to make the engine achieve two hundred and fifty miles to the gallon, they as well should share this with their fellow automakers. But as it is, a company that created this engine would patent it and either sell the product for an outrageously high price or bury it for a bribe from an oil company. Capitalism has driven science and technology far, but imagine how far it might have been driven by now if technology was shared so that the lives of all might be bettered rather than the lives of a few. Humanity must shed the burden it casts upon itself by holding secrets. Only by exposing all knowledge can the human beings which create society increase within themselves and in turn push forward the future generations toward the goal of perfection.

‘Consider humanity as a human body. As it now stands, each organ, each limb, holds itself as a sovereign entity. The fingers; how often have they fought with the hand and struck out across the empty space at the similar appendage across from them? The liver and the heart at times are friends, while at other times they refuse to cooperate and embargo each other. The brain considers the feet savages, degenerates and refuses to speak with them. The feet consider the brain arrogant and attempt to destroy it by terrorism. In the throat, where the flu has been unleashed, a cell contains the knowledge to defeat the illness, but it can produce only a small amount, which it sells at high profit to the few others whom can afford it. The remainder of the cells, those whom cannot purchase the precious formula, are sickly and dying. The gall bladder, which produces this formula in mass amounts, enough for all its cells, would help the throat cells, if only it was not at war with the throat. The left lung as well has the ability to cure the throat, but its goods have been forbidden. In the right lung, there is turmoil. The lower half contests the upper half’s right to govern it. In an elbow the young cells go untaught because their elders feel themselves under compensated for teaching them. In the knee chaos reigns; a dozen factions have sprung up and are murdering themselves. The body is in disarray, yet the organs, muscles and bones operate in ignorance of the whole. The heart beats still strong, yet it does not realize that if the brain dies, as well does it. It does not know that its own existence is dependent upon the strength of the lungs. Yet all are connected, within all flows the same blood, that life passed through each successive generation, that nature which binds all together as a whole.

‘Consider now the body in which there are no factions, in which each cell is celebrated as an individual and considers itself in no manner but as part of the glorious body. The flu again has come to the throat, for no matter how efficient, grand, the body becomes, it cannot prevent the occasional unexpected storm. But this time, it is eradicated for a thousand cells have been given the knowledge to produce the medicine, and they forthwith deliver their entire stock to the needy. And when they run out, the lines continue to turn for the entire body has shipped its sentinels to the benefit of those in danger. The danger averted, the body moves on, every cell in its own place, performing to its utmost a task enjoyable and useful. And how these cells move, off on the bloodstream; one day in the heart, another in the foot, and yet a third in the brain. They move everywhere unrestricted and produce at every place as if it were their home.

‘There is little doubt that humanity might be great, but first it must shear from itself all that is adverse to its greatness.  Everything that benefits one section of society by degrading another is such.  Everything that secrets, deceives or prevents the progress of the well being of all individuals is such.  Nationalism, capitalism, greed and corporate allegiance stand in the way of progress.  Mankind must be drawn from out the countless titles by which he has adorned himself and direct his actions unto the common goal of perfection; to be one flawless body of human beings.’

The publisher leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Marcine returned to his office and sat down across from him.

“Finished?” Marcine asked more naturally than he before had spoken.

“Just the first section. Would you like some coffee?” The publisher asked as he rose from his chair and walked to the machine by his window. He looked outside, his mind empty, relaxing for a moment. He poured himself a cup and sat down. He had not even heard Marcine’s request for a cup. He had forgotten he even asked. “All right. Back to it.”

Marcine walked to the window and stared out. The publisher read:

‘Part Two: The Duality of Man

‘There is duality within man; a consciousness within the mind that this physical life, with its concerns and needs, is not the only plane in which we exist. In reality, there are multiple dualities within every person. There is the natural personality, that with which one is born, and the nurtured personality, that which evolves as one ages, shaped by parents, society, traumatic events; nearly everything. The magnitude of the nurtured self depends upon the strength and demeanor of the natural self and is most formative in the early years of life but maintains a changing hand throughout. Akin to this duality is that of the societal self and the individual self. Every person is different when alone as opposed to with a crowd. This duality varies and is linked closely to the personality, the combined natural and nurtured. It includes such things as peer pressure, advertising and fitting in; basically how much someone thinks about what other people think of them and how this effects their actions.

‘Another duality is the religious or spiritual self and the every day self. Very few people can reconcile these. Consider how many people believe themselves Christians, read the words of Christ, what he says to do, yet in their daily actions conduct themselves adversely to what their religious self advises. Often this relates to the need to feel part of something. If everyone is laughing at the misfortune of someone else, it is easier to laugh with them than to listen to that righteous self and help the person in their trouble.

‘All dualities overlap; the lines and sides are blurry, sometimes unapparent or reversed from what one might expect. A good example is the dual need for love and companionship. Yes, if in love a person will find also companionship, but companionship by itself is often adverse to the path of love. People settle to avoid loneliness, accepting companionship of a compatible nature. Here the levels within humanity become apparent. Two people on the same level have the ability to love each other. Those on levels near will make each other happy, be friends, but never find the extreme joy those on the same level will find. The further the levels are apart, the less people will find to like about each other.

‘These levels within humanity are of ultimate importance to the happiness of people. Those surrounded by people on the same level are bound to be happy. This is true for everyone. The problem is that society pounds it within the minds of young and old alike that there is a certain way people should be and that a certain type of person is better than others. That is entirely wrong. These levels exist not to separate man in any kind of hierarchy, only that like and like might be happy. There is no level better than another. There is no good level or bad level, just as there are no good or bad people. They are merely different.

‘The problem is that people are too concerned with attempting to make themselves feel as if they have found their level or attempting to be on a level they are not. And worse yet is that so many mock others needlessly and attempt to make their level seem less. It should not be this way. Mankind should be a shifting mass of individuals searching until they find the place they fit, the place they are happy most, and in this shifting and in these places, happiness should be their goal and everything should be carried out to procure this goal as long as, a vital point, their pursuit of this happiness does not hinder another person or group of people in this same pursuit. No man should insult another or deride him for his differences. No man should judge another. When they meet, it should be without preconception; they should speak truthfully, and if they cannot enjoy their time together, they should part amiably and think no more upon the person who has departed and seek still their happiness. And when people find others that make them happy, they should travel together through this life. The more they make each other happy, the closer they shall become, and if by chance two find themselves so close it is considered love, for what is love in its true sense but the apex of happiness, they should carry on with life the same; searching out happiness, never in hindrance of another; happy, always happy.

‘This is how human existence should be traversed, but one might protest that it is impossible. Indeed it is far from anything mankind has known, but this does not make it impossible. It is but a matter of each person changing, winning those internal battles, fighting them if never before have they been waged, so that each person seeks to live for happiness while in consideration of others. Somewhere in each human being is the desire to live so happily. It is buried more in some than others, but it is there.

‘It must begin with thought and understanding. No preconceptions. When a person speaks, listen, yet be not afraid to interrupt and say, “I appreciate your sharing, but this is no concern of mine.” And if this should be said, one should not be offended, merely smile and ask, “what would you like to speak about?” and if no subject can be found to bring both parties joy, then they should move on; to remain longer would hinder the happiness of both.

‘In all people there is a commonality for all are human, but that a subject, action, is common does not make it right. Deception and peer pressure are adverse to happiness; the crowd often leads many unhappy individuals towards the goal of but a few. Stir not up to anger any other soul, and if anger arises within ask, what is the cause? If a person stirs anger within another, this person should forget them and move on to those that bring happiness.

‘No one should think they are better than anyone else or that anyone else is better than they. No one is better than anyone else in life. In actions, yes, but they are of no import. It should be of no concern to a person whether someone else can run faster than they can; it matters only that they enjoy their run. And if they do not enjoy it, why run?

‘There is nothing in this life a person must do. Yes, there are consequences for inaction as well as action, but a person must consider whether those consequences might more quickly bring them to happiness than the actions or inactions that would prevent those consequences.

‘A person should consider their own happiness. Let all others consider their own. Yes, once a person is happy, they should help others attain likewise that place, but never at the jeopardy of their own happiness or the hindrance of another’s.

‘It is within human beings to be happy. It, however, takes an effort which many are wont to undertake. That insult that just rolled off your tongue; did it decrease the target’s joy of life? The hours you worked in droll consideration; were they worth the weekend and nights you call your own? Have you ever made a choice that put your career ahead of your happiness? Have you deceived anyone lately? When you meet new acquaintances, how often do you wonder what you might gain from them? Does your occupation interrupt needlessly the lives of others? Are you happy? If not, change. Human beings always have the ability to change. It is a matter of doing so, of becoming happier, more free of thought and conscience, of reaching forward to a higher level, of attempting to be good, more than we have ever been or dreamed we might possibly be. Change. Search for those whom are upon the same level and together rise up into happiness, help others to happiness where the chance presents itself, while never allowing that search to burden the joy of anyone else, and for every person to live as such, every person to instill within their child to live as such, humanity will become a little less of what it has been and a little more of what it could be.’

The publisher turned the last page over and looked at Marcine, who was looking out the window, daydreaming. Marcine’s mind had began to drift, and he was completely relaxed. His indifference had returned; his confidence. It did not matter what the publisher thought; it was good, and above that, it was his. From his mind had those ideas flowed, and no one would ever take that from him, even if another soul never read those words; they had blossomed in his soul. He had created, and that to him was success in life, irregardless of what others thought.

“Well,” he said, drawing Marcine’s gaze, “I have never read anything like it. Of course, I have not read much philosophy; not really my field. Makes you think, though.” He paused, as if considering. “I can’t publish it, you know.” Another pause. Marcine looked at the floor. “I just don’t know if there is a market. I tell you what. Leave me a copy, and I will check around with a few people; see what I can find.”

“You can keep that copy.” Marcine said emotionlessly, and then added, “Thank you.” He headed to the door.

“One last thing.” The publisher said. “Do you believe what you wrote?”

“I don’t know.” Marcine said, pausing at the door. “I really don’t know.”

Chapter Three

Did he believe? In writing the paper he had never stopped to think about it, but now it ate at him. If he did not, how could he publish it? But if he did, how must he change his life so that he actually lived by that which he believed?

He sat in a bar on the same street as his apartment, pondering, sipping at already his third drink. He felt like getting drunk. It had been awhile. He normally lived in a half dream state anyway, but after his meeting with the publisher, he felt normal. And normal people drank, or at least all of them he knew. They would be in the bar in an hour or two, but at three thirty in the afternoon, he was alone with his drink.

His thoughts churned over the question. Not only whether he believed in what he wrote, but what did he believe in? What made him happy? Creation made him happy, that flowing art springing forth from his soul; new thoughts, new feelings bound together in tireless moments of life. Beauty made him happy. Human beauty; woman. The beauty of nature; a sunset, a bird floating free without seeming care in the world. Freedom; that made him happy.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. He had not even noticed the man enter the bar. He knew him a little; the owner of a medium sized corporation, still somewhat young; a proud man; a friend of a friend seemed the best description. A capitalist in all the good and bad of the word. Marcine did not feel like speaking but looked up. The capitalist sat across from him and peered into his face, awaiting an answer. Marcine’s mind changed. He would speak, and he did so with slow, thoughtful words, as if voicing the strain of thoughts which had been running through his mind.

“Have you ever seen a bird silhouetted by the sun setting betwixt clouds of gray, turning dark, black and whispered, ‘I wish I was free such as this spiraling life, warm with the dwindling sun as I gaze in wonder at the world beneath’? These are my thoughts; they flow like a stream though the dull moments of life, opening my eyes to an existence which may or may not be. Yet how shall I discard these dreams (for what else are they) which instill my soul with joy in order that I may take part in the small world you praise? Rather would I starve than bow down at the feet of greed.”

“Bow down?” Spoke the capitalist with a grin. “You are in a fine mood. It is not for greed that I pursue the riches of life but to provide for myself a better future.”

“But when you have obtained enough to supply yourself easily the rest of your days shall you then cease to desire more and quit yourself from the interwoven maze of society?”

“Poet, please; speak in plain language. Enough of your riddles and illusionary phrases. Enough. I have already the means to buy your life tenfold; how dare your insolent mouth question my worth. I am successful beyond anything you shall ever be.”

“The riches of life, of which you so plainly speak, mean nothing to me. That my soul is at peace; this is my ruby and diamond. You might buy my body, as you have accurately stated is within your means, but that which you did not consider is that it is not for sale. Nothing of consequence can be bought; not happiness, not love and certainly not eternity. Go then and conquer this world, and we shall see which of us, upon the moment of our passing, considers his life to have been joyous, upright and worthwhile.”

“Do not preach to me. I am not so selfish as you think. Every year I give of my own will a tenth of my salary to the desolate and poor. Every year…”

“Yes,” interrupted Marcine, “but if you could live on that ten percent and give ninety percent to these others.”

“I would be a fool.” The capitalist responded heatedly. “I am a charitable man, but I shall not allow others to live at my cost and do nothing.”

“Yet you do not protest that you could live on a much smaller salary.”

“I do not.”

“But you require individuals to work for your charity?”

“Not for charity but that they might earn a wage.”

“Then what of your own employees; if you have an excess salary yourself, consider increasing theirs so they might live more easily.”

“They live easily enough. I pay them well.”

“Then what of all those that purchase your goods; might they be helped if you were to decrease the price of your products?”

“Yes, but very little. My goods are individually inexpensive.”

“But were all those like you who provide already their employees adequately, and themselves, to decrease their prices to the point all wages could remain paid and these owners retain enough salary to live, how greatly then would the lives of all individuals be changed?”

“It would be great, I concede, but it is not for us to help these individuals but rather themselves that they might someday live comfortable, luxurious, lives such as us.”

“Have you a servant?”

“What relevance has that?”

“You have already answered, but of more importance, do you consider your servant’s life worthwhile?”

“I pay them well, and they are given vacation and medical.”

“But are their lives worthwhile?”

“How can I answer that? What determines the worth of a life?”

“You before said I questioned your worth, so, obviously, you have some notion of what it means. How do you judge your own life worthwhile?”

“I have been successful.”

“Have you been happy?”

“I have been content, I guess. I have not had time to be happy, but I am proud of my success and this brings me joy.”

“But is this moment of joy worth the countless moments which have passed in which you were too involved to be happy? Would it not have been better to be happy the entire time?”

“No one can be happy all the time.”

“Why not?”

“It is impossible.”

“Upon what proof; because you have not been?”

“No one has been. It is irrelevant. You were talking about servants. Why do you not keep to your arguments?”

“It is the same. I speak of their happiness, and yours.”

The capitalist stood hastily and walked to the bar. Marcine finished his drink and noticed for the first time an older man sitting at the table next to him. The man, smiling, nodded at Marcine and then rose and sat in the seat the capitalist had vacated.

“Another drink?” He asked and called a waitress to the table, ordering for both himself and Marcine. “Please forgive my friend for his rudeness; he is young and yet to appreciate good conversation.”

“He is no older than I am.” Said Marcine. He had never met this man, but he must have entered with the capitalist and been listening to them.

“Yes, but you are more wise for your age.”

“I would not know; wisdom is relative to each person’s opinion.”

“Perfect.” Said the man, smiling again. “You are a poet and painter?”

“Yes. What is perfect?”

“You are. Is your name well known?”

“Well enough that I have no other occupation. How am I perfect?”

“In time. In time. I, for one, do know your name. I have seen your work. It is very good, very unique.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you think of the political situation?” The man had turned more serious, as if he was finally getting to the topic he wanted to speak about.

“Everyone thinks things are going to change, but they won’t. Any new government will be essentially the same as the old. This is the situation you were referring to, correct?”

“Yes, yes. Perfect indeed. I agree with you; everyone running for office will make it just like it was. Did you know thirty-two people have already entered the election for president? Thirty-two! It is going to be wide open. But more than that, it’s not just a president we need but a new government. None of them will change the old government; they are all politicians, used to the system, bred in the system. They have no desire to do good or change things. That is where you and I come in.”

“How is that?”

“I have money, powerful friends, but we are tired of the old way of government. We want someone new. Somebody different, with a desire to do good. You.”

“It sounds like you want a puppet.”

“That is precisely what we do not want. Believe me, if we did, I would not approach you. You are young, passionate; these do not bode well for a puppet. We want you. A new government. A young government ready to change life in this country for the better.”

“Your better, I suppose.”

“We all need help, do we not? But remember, if we give you the country, you have no need to repay us. Some will expect you to, of course, but once you are in, what can they do to you if you steer things a little differently than they expect?” The man smiled as if the thought of Marcine doing such a thing, angering his friends, would amuse him significantly.

Marcine observed this. It seemed this man wanted to use him for a laugh; almost as if he had bet someone he could give anyone the country. But the thought of power is a great attraction, and he could not deny the experience would be exciting. Besides, he would not win.

“Is this serious?” He asked.

“Absolutely. As I said, there are thirty-two people already running. Of course less than a dozen have any hope, but irregardless, the vote is going to get split. We can get you elected. And remember this is different; you will have the power of a king. Think of it; a king.”

Chapter Four

How could anyone turn the offer down? Marcine sat in his campaign headquarters watching election results filter in. Balloting had been closed for only ten minutes. He was nervous, although he told himself it did not matter. It would have been easier, he thought, if he knew he was not going to win, like so many of the candidates; the position he had thought he would be in when he agreed to run. But the man had carried through with his promise. Marcine had been one of the three leading candidates in the polls for the past three months. He did not take much from those, however. It seemed ridiculous to judge an entire nation by polling a few thousand people, no matter how random they might be. He had even been in the lead in a few of the polls, but usually he was a close second or third. It was hard to tell what would happen. Forty-one people were on the ballot, and at least thirty were expected to take at least one percent. Five were expected to take at least ten percent. That alone was eighty percent of the vote. Twenty percent would certainly win. Fifteen was possible. No matter who won, it would be by the will of a small percentage of the people.

It had been hard at times, living so openly; his past besieged more than his intentions or who he was. When he began to rise in the polls, his adversaries had taken aim. They called him an artist, an outcast, too free of thought to rule. In response, he said little more than that they were entitled to their opinion. “I am merely casting my name out for the public to consider.” He had said in an early interview. “If they feel I am the best candidate, I will do my best to prove them right. I do not claim to be the best person in this nation, whom I believe should rule. If this superior man was to arise and run, I would gladly withdraw my candidacy and support him. But such a person has not entered the race, and thus I believe I could help this nation more than anyone else in contention.”

   They said he was too young, too inexperienced.  The media seemed to ignore this point.  They seemed to ignore a lot about him.  Either they did not consider him a serious candidate, or those powerful friends he had been told about had their hands involved.  He saw their influence everywhere, even without seeing them.  He knew only the man from the restaurant and the small campaign team he had assembled for Marcine.  They knew their politics, and he fought often with them.  He would not besmirch his opponents.  They had folders on every serious candidate and urged him to take aim, as they did to him.  He refused.  One of his staff quit.  The next day he was back and more flexible.  Someone had spoken to him; one of those friends.

He traveled constantly; giving speeches, shaking hands, interviews and public appearances. He began losing grip. Sometimes he felt as if he was not himself. He would find himself sitting alone, and he felt uncomfortable. He always used to love his solitude. He heard himself speak, and the words were not his. He was always tired, even though he slept more than he had in many years. He remembered once, after a speech and dinner, sitting in a hotel room, looking at himself in the mirror. His skin did not seem to fit his face. His body did not seem his. The eyes were different, empty. Within called the spirit of his art, and he realized he had forsaken himself. He had become involved in the campaign. He had let it become stressful. He smiled at himself in the mirror and shrugged his shoulders. It did not matter if he won. He felt better after that and listened less to his staff and more to himself. He stopped giving prepared speeches. He nearly stopped giving speeches altogether, instead answering questions from the crowds and reporters. He was relaxed; he felt again like himself. And he gained in the polls, especially after the debates with the other leading candidates. Beside them he looked young, affable and intelligent.

The first numbers were in; twenty percent of the votes counted. He was in second place with just under eighteen percent. The leader had only a third of a percentage point lead, while a third candidate stood at fifteen percent. It was as expected. These two were always atop the polls. The third place candidate was a retired army general who had sided with the revolting soldiers and carried strong support with military men and people who thought rebuilding an army of supreme importance. The leading candidate was a career politician. He had ruthlessly attacked Marcine’s past and inexperience, and had he not been so closely tied with the old government, he likely would have pulled away from all competition. The remainder of the candidates were primarily politicians from cities and provinces. A few businessmen had also entered, one of whom was fourth in the returning results at twelve percent. He had spent more money than all of the candidates combined. Marcine’s actual campaign ran on a minimal budget, but he knew a great deal of money had been spent on him unofficially. And when forty percent of the votes had been counted and he trailed by only six thousand votes, he realized that he might actually win, and the uneasy feeling returned that some of the people that had spent that money might expect something in return.

He was onset by doubt as he considered the future potentially before him. He had never sought power, but he had dreamed often of the actions he might undertake if ever he owned it. These actions would not be looked upon well by those that had funded him, and if they were powerful enough to have him elected, they might also have the means to replace or disgrace him. He would have to be careful if he wanted to rule for any length. But it did not matter how long he ruled, he realized, if he did so for that time to the uppermost of his ability. He needed only to lay the groundwork for a state of a new model. The philosopher would be king, if only for a short time. Hopefully, long enough to do something worthwhile. Besides, what would be the worst anyone could do to him? He would rather be killed or displaced doing what he believed was right than attempting to please the interests of an unknown array of lobbyists.

With seventy-five percent counted, he had taken the lead, albeit slightly. The campaign workers buzzed with excitement. He had passed into the nineteenth percentage point, while the career politician had remained in the eighteenth. The general had dropped below fifteen percent, while a few of the others had gained ground, although they remained far distant.

Updates streamed in constantly, and while the margin varied, his lead continued to hold. He found he was nervous and began to pace the hall between his office and the open room where the campaign staff worked. Outside were thousands of people whom cheered every time updates were given. He thought back to his life before he had entered the race. He had never voted or particularly cared about politics, except in the historical, philosophical and theoretical standpoints. It had no relevance to his life, but these people; he did not understand. Why would they stand outside his building with signs and cheer for his election? What did they gain from it? He understood they might prefer him to others, and thus vote for and even support him, but to stand outside for hours simply that they might be there to hear him speak upon his victory, or even his defeat. It reminded him almost of how people acted when the pope visited the country a few years previously. Hundreds of thousands had lined the streets simply to watch him pass by in a car, and then as many packed an outdoor stadium to listen to him pronounce a few minutes of worship. And it was not just the fact that they went to see him, he understood the importance of religion to people, but the way they looked upon and spoke of the pope. They praised him almost as if he was God. They grew weak with emotion at the sight of him, looked with awe upon him. He never could understand how people could look upon any other person with such deference. The pope was but a man. A president or king was but a man. No human being is above others in such a way as people glorify individuals above themselves. Marcine knew he was merely a man, yet there might be those that looked upon him or would come to look upon him in a similar manner. Fame was a mystery to him, yet it had clutched him to its bosom and presented him to a grand many faces, some of whom no doubt did turn their eyes upon him with looks akin to awe.

He had won. He shook hands with the campaign workers and marveled at the absurdity of it. Nineteen point one percent. He had won the land by the will of one fifth of the seventy percent of its people that turned out to vote. Fourteen percent his mind quickly thought, and that excluded the children. And how many people had voted for him only to see someone else defeated? He could not know, but the fourteen percent ran through his thoughts. How many of those votes had been bought by the money of his unseen backers? It was ridiculous, he realized, but then he was overrun by congratulations and rushed outside to a podium and the awaiting thousands. They celebrated raucously, and every time he waved, the cheers increased. It still amazed him that they should take so much joy in the success or life of someone else. But his pride did surge, he consented, to hear them chant his name and to know their joy was for him, that he was to them someone important.

The crowd quieted, waiting for him to speak. What could he say? He did not know as he stepped to the microphone, and he hesitated, passing his eyes once more over the faces below him. Yes, there were faces out there that regarded far too much of him. And then he began to speak.

“No greater responsibility may be placed upon a man than the welfare and support of his fellow citizens, and today, with such a responsibility have I been entrusted. I am grateful for this opportunity, and though I know the path may at times become clouded, I shall endeavor always to act in such a way to benefit this great nation. I have been elected to govern no one but rather to facilitate the functions necessary to the common welfare, continuity and happiness of the citizens of this country. No longer shall the many carry out the whims of a few but instead the few shall seek to fulfill the needs of the many.”

Applause deafened him as he returned to his office. “What now?” He thought. He sat at his desk and poured a glass of wine. He could not help but wonder how well he would do.

Chapter Five

They sat drinking wine, Marcine and a friend, speaking of the future and how things might be.

“I envision a forest,” said Marcine, “of manmade trees, each shimmering in the beauty of the twilight, the leaves breathing the last rays of the sun to bring power to man’s machines. Finally have the engineers abandoned the unnatural corners they have always made and found in nature the model which Art has always mimicked. On the branches of these great trees sit gigantic birds of every type; how beautiful their feathers gleam. One takes flight and alights on a branch a mile away. Upraise its wings to reveal a family of humans. Happily they walk into their home, returning from a visit to a friend. The father pauses before the door to pluck some fruit growing from the tree; an apple, a mango and a tangerine grow together on the same artificial branch, all delicious, all free. Inside the house their pets come bounding to greet them. What is this? A polar bear the size of a dog and beside it a lion of stature same. The children frolic with the beasts while the father delivers the fruits upon the table where soon all assemble to merrily enjoy their feast. Even the lion partakes for in his altered genes, he as well has lost his taste for meat. Oft on the ground below does he romp about with sheep and cows. And this ground; how beautiful it is. There are pathways of perfect green grass, which seems always cut but never is a workman present; again the human race has bettered nature. How grand these greenways look as they run between and overtop a grand array of gentle streams. Here children swim with dolphins, as well as a dog or two. And down the paths adults do run, joyous, innocent, almost childlike as well.

“Follow a stream to the forest’s edge and gaze upon the nature spreading forth its grandeur. Here manmade birds fly beside the authentic machinery. These trees power but their own growth, and amongst them creep and crawl all natural creatures, untouched, unharmed, alone and free. Go aloft in a peaceful bird; how quiet its wings do flap, softer than the real thing. Gaze upon the vast plains where herds of buffalo and cattle roam. Here they are hunted by the wolf, and the bear grabs greedily at his salmon prey. Great rivers flow unhindered, teeming with life and waterfalls. Nature has reclaimed its land; rather man has conceded it for all he needs is within his cities. Here is another one. We land upon another branch and enter within the great oak shaped building. People laugh merrily amongst themselves, moving about amongst each other, always smiling, always happy. These here are all single people, men, women, in search of love. There are no games as in ancient times; they merely drift amongst each other, amiable always, searching for a heart which touches theirs. And when they find such bliss? Then they shall become as one, traveling about this great earth, meeting all peoples, deciding where they shall settle. And when they do, they raise their own children from the moment of their birth until, when these children reach maturity, the parents fare them well in search of their own true love.”

“It sounds like Eden.” Said the friend.

“What else should mankind attempt to create?”

Chapter Six

The boat rolled with the waves, and Marcine steadied himself on the handrails as he gazed into the water. A fish streamed past, and he told the captain to stop. Immediately the order was carried out, and Marcine retreated aft to eat a small lunch and stare across the waves, leaning back after his meal to soak in the sun and relax. He napped a little and daydreamed; through his mind swam the fish, and Marcine swam beside. He chuckled as he sipped a fresh glass of lemonade the steward placed beside him. For a moment he had forgotten where he was, who he was. He had felt like he used to feel when he was alone. But he was never alone anymore. Even now, while he drifted through his thoughts and watched the seagulls float overhead, there were three men on the boat just to protect him, that aside from the four-man crew. And this was the nearest he had come to a peaceful moment to himself in the months he had been in office.

There was so much yet to do. It amazed him how inefficient the government was, as well as how entirely linked its decisions were to large corporations and political contributions. He had never cared for politics, but he had always lived in the misconception that the people that ran the country attempted to do so with at least some regard to the well-being of the populace. The illusion had instantly vanished. He had been in office less than a day before he was beset by varying parties seeking his consideration on matters of their own interest. This in itself did not confound him but rather the types of requests they approached with. A majority were matters the national government should have had no hand in, while others were contradictory to what he had considered even the most common sense.

He turned them all away and locked himself in his office with a copy of the budget. So much money was wasted, he saw immediately; so many expenditures and programs that should not exist and so many others that should have existed that did not. He began to remove and change the figures. It would take weeks, months, and always he was interrupted. And usually he was disturbed for meaningless things or to meet with people he had no need to see. He had work to do; did they not understand? Of course not, he realized; they assumed things would gradually revolve back to the way they had been before the revolt. The entire system needed to be changed before any good could be accomplished. The purpose of the government needed to be reestablished with a higher cause then ever before it had held. Corruption, lobbying and deception needed to be erased. Simply, the mindset of the nation needed to be reformed. He set aside the budget and began to dive through the laws and systems of not only his nation but all others as well. He fed and searched the inspiration of his mind, seeking within the source of poetry for a means to turn philosophy into actuality.

At last he began to write. He was not sure what it was, only that if he was to lead a nation it would be under no system in existence. He worked long hours, up to twenty hours a day, crafting his nation on paper, meditating, researching, considering every detail until it was complete. Yet he doubted himself. It was a risk to deliver a change such as this upon an unsuspecting people, more so upon the politicians and lawmakers. There would be only one way to do it; to give the citizens of the nation the chance to adopt his plan. And so he announced to the nation his intention to refashion the entire way of life within its borders, if they desired it. He did not read from the document that day, nor had anyone else read it.

The following morning he called another press conference and delivered fifty copies, which he printed himself, to the media with instructions to reprint and distribute freely. After this conference, he for the first time gave the file to his secretary to be printed and distributed throughout the government.

After the press conference he had gone directly to the yacht, which sat always at dock for his use, and ordered it to sea. He briefly wondered what the reaction was to his plan, The Betterment and Equality of Society. Then he returned to consideration of the birds and waves. Something would happen, no doubt, but he would deal with that later. He rang the bell for the steward and ordered another drink. When it came, he took a few sips and then sat back, closed his eyes and listened to the calming sounds of the sea. Then the daydreams returned.

Chapter Seven

The Betterment and Equality of Society

There is no greater responsibility by which a nation is bound than to the happiness of its citizens. A government cannot coerce, force or bribe the people it has been created to serve in any fashion to increase their happiness, it can only certify their freedom to seek this happiness and instill in them that their primary duty as citizens is to be happy, provided their happiness does not decrease that of their fellow citizens. This happiness must be the pride of the nation, and to it must all business, technology and education be directed.

AUTHOR’S NOTES:This chapter will never be completed as I envisioned; simply, Marcine’s plan. I am incapable of writing such a document to the extent and with the detail it would need. And, unable to produce such a plan in full, I will not attempt in part. Yes, I might have consigned myself to the research attributed to Marcine and delved within the laws and philosophies thus far put forth in the history of man in order that I might compare with them my own notions and to be certain that no detail was left uncovered. I might have done this, but it to me does not seem worth the effort to do so. In this story, Marcine was in a position whereas such a work might actually produce change. I am in no such place, and while such concepts as how best to arrange the community of man interest me, I am content to read such books as have been written in my own time and at my own pleasure. Perhaps, when I am old and have duly considered all I feel necessary to construct such a political theory or system, I shall take up pen and attempt to do so. For now I have but the scattered, wandering, sometimes passionate, thoughts of youth, and for the purposes of this story, they shall have to suffice to illuminate what I envisioned Marcine to have produced.

The plan was to have been written in a general outline form, beginning with a brief introduction, such as that which began this chapter, to be followed as such: I. Introduction (in depth); II. Structure of Government; III. Education; IV. Law; V. Foreign Policy; VI. Summary.

Each heading would be further separated, down to the minutest detail necessary. For example, Education would be divided first into a summary or overview and a plan for an ideal school (such ideal plans would be present wherever applicable). Each of these sections would be divided in the most organized manner. Foreign policy would include trade, as well as military. Trade regulations would be listed individually with each regulation, the reason for it and the consequence for breaking it. Law would likewise be divided. This is an example of how a criminal law paragraph might begin:

“Murder. If any human being is found guilty by due process of the murder of any other human being or beings, the remainder of his or her life shall be forfeit to the benefit of society. This person, upon conviction, shall be confined in prison until death. He or she shall receive no visitation or social interaction. This individual shall be considered dead to society, but in death shall he or she benefit society by performing such labor as is provided by the confining facility. While performing such labor, the convicted individual shall work alone, if feasible within their living cell. Individuals convicted of murder must be confined in conditions where escape is infeasible.”

This leads to a great many other paragraphs, such as the difference between murder and manslaughter, the definitions of each and any exceptions, if any, to the law. For crimes which do not hold such a stiff sentence, the paragraphs would probably be longer and more inclusive. The system of sentencing, which is more service than punishment based, will be mentioned in more depth later.

One begins to see the magnitude of such a document. Consider all the crimes, even to the smallest offences, for if this document is to replace the old laws, it must be all inclusive. But now to the ideas which drive this plan. The first have already been written at the beginning of the chapter. These ideals must be the basis for everything else. To repeat.

1.The government does not rule, it facilitates the needs of the nation.

2.It is vital that all facets of society are carried forth to benefit the happiness and well-being of the citizens and that nothing detrimental to this happiness is condoned.

3.Education shall be focused on teaching children that happiness, of self and all individuals, is the highest goal in life and that it is the greatest wrong to disturb the happiness of someone else.

These are idealistic, true, but should not a nation at least attempt to be good? To this end must all be focused. The government must be as small as possible. It must work as efficiently as possible and under no circumstances be run to any purpose other than that of the well-being of the nation. In an ideal state, the government would nearly vanish as society would become nearly self-standing. As crime evaporates, so does the need to prevent and punish it. Erase the false businesses of deception and marketing, and there shall be no need to regulate them. If there are no patents and trademarks, there are no laws or regulations to enforce regarding them. Begin to erase these things, and others like them, and the economy will equalize itself. If companies are allowed to fail, then there would, again, be no regulating bodies to prevent their failure. Eventually the number and types of businesses would reach equilibrium, as would employee numbers and hours. When overall well-being is the goal, new businesses will not be created simply for the reason that there are the number of people to sustain them. Instead, the existing companies will hire more people and reduce the hours of all, while maintaining an even wage, thus increasing the time each individual may spend on his or her own pursuit of happiness. The goal is to have everyone in the nation fed, housed, clothed and entertained for the minimum individual output possible. If such can be attained with every individual working forty hours a week, so be it, but likely this can be reached with everyone working much less than that. Consider the increase of overall happiness if instead of five eight hour days, generally more considering commutes and unpaid lunch hours, people worked four six hour days. Consider further if instead of two weeks vacation a year, people had two months. If balanced correctly it is probable either the hours would be even less or the vacation more, if not both.

It must be admitted that many laws need remain. Although many people would think of would not be included. In foreign trade there would be slight tariffs, if any at all. The government in no way would help domestic businesses. In fact, business and government should be almost entirely separate. Government should step in only when a business infringes on the happiness of individuals or, worse yet, harms them, such as when a drug company attempts to produce and sell a product with adverse side effects beyond the good of the product. Here, alike to most facets of life, the simple test of should, not can, something be done or made is appropriate. If you must convince people they need your product, they probably do not. Thus, do not make it. It you would not buy it yourself, do not make it. But should someone produce a product that harms no one but is useless or completely unnatural, the government need not step in or prohibit this business. If the citizens are educated properly, this product, this business, will fail. Stores, if owned by individuals that have been taught reason, will not stock this product. And if they do, no one will buy it. The only time the government would intercede would be if the product is dangerous or a complete waste of resources. Of course, in the beginning of the instrumentation of this system, the government would need to regulate the products to some extent, but with each generation it would exercise less and less control. This would be true in every facet of government.

Here is dangerous ground to tread, for indeed the system has similarities to communism, and history has shown the difficulties of any government to let go. Lenin and Trotsky spoke of easing off the government when they claimed power, but the communist dream turned quickly into a mean dictatorship. How can this be prevented? Again, education. Business would be eased into the new format while the minds of children are taught the new ideals of communal well-being through individual happiness instead of the self-usury which is now propagated. It cannot be stressed enough that business, while intertwined with the common goal of communal happiness and progress, must remain separate from government. But to curtail this statement a moment; business does not include all that business pertains to in most capitalist nations. Look instead to the socialist type system. Medicine, electricity, telephone, water, sewer; all these would be government entities, or rather they need not be government but they must not seek a profit. If the entire nation can receive electricity for a dollar a day, then charge a dollar a day, or perhaps a dollar and five cents, the balance bring used to build new lines, as well as to upgrade to and research technologies. If it could be done for less, then less would be charged. The same must apply to all such utilities and, in truth, to most businesses. If technology is common knowledge, the vast secrecy and profit drives disappear. Three companies need not discover the same technology; when one does, they all receive the knowledge and seek to improve upon it. This is true of all technologies, save weapons, if there is, unfortunately, a need to produce weapons. Anyone who has the materials and tools could produce whatever they wish. But what of the safety of amateurs? Once more, education. It must be instilled in people not to attempt what is beyond them; rather to educate themselves before attempting anything unknown. But better they experiment than live in undesired ignorance. And if a few such individuals are injured experimenting? So be it. They have learned from their mistakes. And if they shall die? Others will learn from it. It is not a government’s duty to completely coddle people so that they do not exercise their own reason. Consider also, who would build their own television when to buy one costs scarcely more than the materials to make it. Remove the inflated costs created by advertising, lobbying, patenting and marketing and this would be true. The only costs will be salaries of employees and material costs.

The mention of salaries again returns to the principles of education. Remove greed as much as is possible; rather do not teach it, and in combination with the nurtured desire to benefit all as well as one’s self, this will produce a society in which salaries for all occupations are similar, perhaps eventually equal, for whom among the citizens shall claim to be worth move than another? Reduce money to what it was designed to be, a simpler means of trade, rather than an entity in itself. Remove the desire for wealth and replace it with the desire for happiness. It cannot be stated enough: it begins with education.

But how does one teach such ideals to human beings? Begin at their birth. Make human beings of your children, and they shall all find trades and occupations when they age, but more so they shall learn to be happy.

Much of what children are taught in today’s education systems is irrelevant. Education should focus on but two things; teaching children how to learn and how to interact with each other. The facts and figures now shoved in their minds do little good. Such things are generally forgotten in a short period of time. Think back and recall your education; what do you recall, the twenty-first president or the crush you had on the boy or girl sitting in the row across from you? Teach a child to learn and when he is an adult and wonders who that president was, he shall know where to find out.

Interaction amongst children must be encouraged; how else will they know how to interact when they are adults? Do not merely tell them that a general sense of well-being and happiness is to their advantage, let them experience it. Instill in them that people, not things, are important.

These are not new ideas. It is rare anyone thinks something someone has not before considered. If one read every book ever written, ideas and concepts would be repeated without end, and these are just some of the ideas of the few people whom have taken the time to write such things down. What of the shepherd whom diagramed the universe in his mind while he gazed upon the stars during his midnight watch? His thoughts disappeared with him. Does this mean that his thoughts were wasted? Of course not. It merely means he was content to live his life and to think his own thoughts. Teach children to do the same, and they shall not judge one another or seek constantly to compare themselves. They will seek only be themselves, no more, no less.

In an ideal education, personalities would be embraced and left free to develop into what they might be. While nurturing the child’s personality to be a higher type of human being, let the natural side be free. If he wants to chase a butterfly for an hour, let him, watch him, join him; attempt to reclaim the innocence in which he still exits.

To change topics; religion. This is easily arranged for in this nation there should be absolute freedom of religion, assuming, of course, the fulfillment of religious practices does not disturb the well being of others. This should not strike hard, however, for at the core of nearly every religion are principles of such tolerance and love towards mankind. The government should be separated entirely from religion, except where fanaticism may arise. Again, if the system is successful, fanaticism will be rare. Children should be taught to look with open minds upon all things, including the varying religions and philosophies of mankind. Never should anyone disparage the beliefs of anyone else, while at the same time, people should not be afraid to discuss such topics. Here, however, a point should be reiterated. Should someone not want to speak of such things, our citizens, educated to respect above all the well-being and happiness of others, will kindly drop or avoid the subject. This shall be true of all topics.

To return to the criminal system. No matter how vehemently one envisions the citizens of a country interacting without crime, it will never be a reality. It will arise, although with each succeeding generation it should decrease.

Sentences should be based on community service, or service to those affected by the crimes committed, with detention as a last resort. Ideally, the service should be carried out so that the convicted person’s fine is used to the greatest possible potential. If a bricklayer commits a crime, let him lay bricks as a sentence. (I am aware of the apparent contradiction of calling a person a bricklayer, when earlier I write to make human beings of people. The point is, have convicts do what serves the community most appropriately, generally that which the they know best how to do.) He would serve no prison time, depending on the crime. Instead he would live at home, pay his bills, eat his own food, work his occupation and then, in what should be his time to relax, he would repay the debt he has incurred to society. Yes, fines would be levied, but in addition some service would be required. A thief, for example, would pay back what he has taken, plus a percentage fine, and as well undertake service for a set amount of time. If someone cannot pay a fine, additional service shall take its place.

If a man that owns acreage, above a plot for his home, commits a crime and is unable to pay the fine, let his debt be paid by a forfeiture of a portion of his land. And on this land let that bricklayer, having been convicted of a crime, build with bricks made by a convicted brick maker a public building designed by an architect also guilty of indiscretion. So on and so forth. As long as people commit crimes, let them benefit society. It does no good to lock people up; to feed and clean them. Yes, this would be the final option, but even in prison let them produce something. Assign to these prisoners the tasks no one wants to do; hard labor, repetitive assembly jobs; whatever arises. Make prison nearly unbearable. This way people would fear going back. Each prisoner should be held in isolation for at least the first three months of their sentence, or the entire sentence if it is less than that. Feed them in their cells. They shower in their cells. Importantly, they maintain the cleanliness of their cells. And of entertainment and such benefits? They have forfeited the right to such things. Remember, for most crimes confinement would be only necessary if the convict failed to conduct his or her community service. Other crimes, such as rape, child molestation and murder; these individuals have violated so severely the ideals of humanity that they do not deserve anything but the basic essentials of life. They would not be starved, or harmed, but they would receive no luxury. Their thoughts alone would they have during the fulfillment of their sentence, save religious texts if they so request. Yes, this seems harsh, but prison as such would be a deterrent to any would be criminals, especially if they had already served time. A week so imprisoned would effect the ordinary man quite severely. But once the time has been served, the fine paid or service completed, let there be no ill will towards these individuals. Everyone errors; that they have accounted, and hopefully learned, is all that matters. Every crime would have a set sentence, increasing in severity with the frequency of such crimes, but of repeat criminals there would be few, one would imagine; again, after a few generations. No system can slide flawlessly into place.

Similar to prisons should be homeless shelters, in reference only to the simplicity of the buildings. Each room would have only a bed, a table and two chairs. There would be a closet, as well as a small bathroom with sink, toilet and shower. Also a small kitchen, in the main room. The kitchen might be ignored if the building has a cafeteria, but to give someone a concept of a home, even one this bare, it holds they should have a place to cook that own meals.

In the building should be a career center, a medical clinic and counseling services. The goal is to give people a place to stay while they reenter society. The rooms would be small and bare to give anyone not willing to call such home motivation to earn a better place. It is shelter and a means for cleanliness. Cleanliness, incidentally, should be instilled in children at a young age. It is an important step in the education of order. There is no harm being dirty, often it is enjoyable, but children should want to be clean, if nothing else when they lie down to sleep at night.

The buildings should also be equipped with warm water showers and restrooms available to the public, as well as with cots or bunks to handle potential overflow. Ideally no one would remain long in such places, but if they did, work around the building would be required to remain.

Although the term homeless shelter is used, these buildings would also be a refuge to travelers who either could not afford a hotel or merely wanted to experience life as such. Anyone could stay in them, no questions asked unless the stay exceeds more than a handful of days. If such places existed in every town, the citizens of the nation would always have somewhere to turn in the time of need, and at a minimal cost. They should be places in which no one would be ashamed to stay, yet it would be difficult to consider it a home unless the individual seeks no more, such as monks, someone on a spiritual journey or a wandering youth. Hotels, like all else, would eventually be rid of unnecessary usury. Thus, if the hotel can rent the rooms for twenty dollars a day, it will, even if before it charged a hundred.

There is nothing as useless to the well being of a nation as an active army. It produces nothing, yet it consumes greatly. This aside from the false ideals it instills in the citizens of its nation by its mere existence. Consider the dictatorships which claim communism. Military is the downfall of their systems. A good example is North Korea, whose military first leadership has reduced its citizens to poverty. For every soldier there is one less citizen to produce something; in this case much needed food or goods to sell for food.

Ideally, the nation would have no military, but more realistically, every citizen would be a member of the military. Arm every citizen, teach them the basics of fighting, and should any nation dare invade this peaceful country, chaos would be unleashed upon them as from every house and office would descend a barrage of gunfire and artillery. There would be no greater breach of the ideals of common happiness than to propagate war, and thus in retribution for this alone is such force acceptable.

Diplomacy, of course, is always the first option, but in no case will the nation yield to any unkind foreign power. And if the leader of another nation defies diplomacy and rallies himself to lead his nation to war? Then, if the chance should arise, take this leader’s life. Rather his one life be forfeit than those of countless soldiers and innocents who desire not and gain nothing from the war. A head of state should not have the power to tell anyone to die.

Much has been overlooked, detail could be gone into for even what has been said, but for the purpose of this story, such as has been written shall suffice. As for Marcine’s plan; imagine that it is well written and true throughout to the ideal of communal and individual happiness. In his mind at least, should it be put into practice, the nation would run with a fluidity and charm that no nation has yet to achieve. And, perhaps, it would be an example to the world that such a better state might exist.

Chapter Eight

The press awaited Marcine as he disembarked the yacht. Others were there too; protesters, staff members and people who came for reasons he did not know.

“How do you respond to the threats...?” The question from the reporter was drowned out by the hum of a thousand voices. Other bits drifted to his ears as he was escorted to a car. “Do you think it will pass?” “You communist bastard!” “God bless you.” “What did you mean in paragraph twelve...?” “What will you do if it does not pass?” “How do you respond to the legal injunction?”

Through all he walked silently, but at the car, he paused and turned towards the crowds, waiting until they were silent before speaking.

“I have presented to the people of this nation the nation I visualize it might

be.  If the citizens of this land do not want the government I have offered them, they need only vote no.  Of threats and injunctions, I will say only that it would be a shame if the people are denied the chance to choose their government because a handful of others attempt to decide for them that they do not deserve that chance.”

He said naught else and turned into the car. Within sat the man by whom he had been elected. They had not spoken since the night of the election, and they were silent until the car was moving.

“Well,” the man said, turning to Marcine, a dry look on his face, yet a bit of amusement in his eyes, “you surprised even me.” Marcine looked at him vacantly but did not speak. The older man continued. “I have been sent as a messenger.” He paused, looked out the window a moment and then turned back to Marcine. “If you do not withdraw your request for a public vote, your life... Well, it is not safe. Put it through government channels, let it be changed, adapted, turned down a few times and revised; that is all anyone asks.” He paused again and inched closer to Marcine whom remained yet emotionless. “Of course, they will drive you out of office, but the document will live on. They cannot destroy it after what you did. That was brilliant, giving to the press like that. Brilliant.”

“How much time do I have?” Marcine said after a moment. He knew there were more sides to this issue, avenues he could seek out, but he was suddenly tired of it all. He had given the groundwork for a great nation, if only the people would follow through. But it would not work, he realized. It was too idealistic, too great a leap from the system in place.

“It depends on what you decide.” He leaned back and looked forward.

“I will not withdraw the vote.”

“Then you do not have much time. A day perhaps, maybe a few. They can get to you; you know that. As easily as I sit here beside you, they can have you killed. But they will want to do it in such a way as to smear your image.”

Marcine told the driver to stop the car.

“Get out.” He said bluntly. The man obeyed but poked his head back in briefly.

“It would be interesting,” he said, “to see if it would work.”

Then he was gone, and Marcine was alone with his thoughts, although in the front seat sat the driver and a security agent. He no longer felt he could trust them. He could trust no one anymore.

Chapter Nine

He locked the door when he entered his bedroom and sat on his bed wondering how they would come for him. Then he realized he would not let them. He had that much control over his life. He poured himself a drink. A moment later he poured a second and then a third. He knocked the bottle on the floor but did not pick it up. He did not care anymore. Life did not seem real. Indeed, how could he believe that he, a marginally known artist, was being threatened for delivering to a populace a change of government? He laughed at the thought and pulled a piece of paper from a desk drawer.

“I confess;” he wrote, “I am not strong enough, woefully weak when most I need strength. I attempted so eagerly to build a magnificent kingdom; how peaceful it would have been; how quickly it was torn under in a horde of paranoia and ignorance. I am almost convinced that these people, by the means they took to undermine my efforts, have no desire for anyone to be happy.”

He reread the note once and then removed the painting hanging behind the desk. He opened the safe, so obviously he thought, behind the picture. It made him chuckle. From within the safe he removed an old wooden box, which upon opening revealed an old single shot pistol and ammunition given to him as an inauguration gift by the ambassador of an unusually friendly country. He wondered what that man thought of his actions this day. He shrugged. It did not matter. None of it did. In death all would be forgotten anyway. He smiled at the thought; his unbelief returned after an interval of passionate work. It made him feel better.

He opened the pistol and placed a round in the chamber. He closed the weapon and stared at it. His thoughts struck momentarily empty, and then he turned his eyes from the handgun to the painting he had removed from the wall. He had never liked it but had never taken time to change it out. There was one in the hallway to his office he liked much better. It was of an angel whom smiled as he held a newborn fawn in his arms. It had been painted two hundred years earlier for the inauguration of a former president.

He set the pistol down and recovered the bottle from the floor. He took a swig and then dropped it again. He was motionless for a minute and then turned to the paper and once more wrote, “You will not find my body. It will be beneath the waves, cast off from this nation as it seems righteousness shall forever be.”

He signed beneath these lines and then took a second bullet from the box and stood it on top of the note. Then, from the safe he removed a briefcase, replaced it with the wooden box and closed the door. He placed the pistol in his belt at the small of his back and cautiously left the room.

In his library he had weeks before discovered a staircase descending into a tunnel. It set off an alarm when he had accidentally opened it, but it was the only way he could leave the building alone. The tunnel was a quarter of a mile long and exited into a small house. They had been built at the same time, but the records showed that only a handful of people knew about the tunnel.

He opened the passageway, descended the stairs and ran to the house. He paused before entering. Security agents would be waiting for him; they were always there.

But they were not, and he could not help but think of the long arms now threatening him. It seemed a reasonable route to assassinate him, and surely they had power to divert a few of his security personnel. He wondered how powerful his enemies were. Surely it was not only the men that had financed and swayed his election. He did not know if anyone supported him.

He was quickly out of the house and into a passing cab. He was suspicious of even this individual, although the driver seemed to take no notice of him. They spoke of the rain, a light mist which had come with sunset. The cabbie talked at length, while Marcine made enough sounds to prod him.

He tipped the driver well when he was dropped off at the marina and then made his way to the yacht. The guards here remained posted, and as he approached, they hastened to intercept him.

“You can’t come down here. Oh, it’s you sir. Didn’t expect you this late. Should we call the crew sir?”

“No, no.” Marcine said. “I just need to get a few things on board.”

“Yes sir. Do you need any help sir?”

“No. I’ll just be a few minutes. You guys stay in your hut and stay warm. I will stop in on my way back and have some coffee if you have some.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

He walked with the two guards to their small house and then continued to the yacht. Climbing on board, he looked back at the guard shack. He could see them moving around in the light, probably making his coffee. He untied the dock lines and then looked back again. One guard was still moving around, but the other was motionless, looking out either towards the street or towards the boat. He could not tell from the silhouette which way he faced.

He did not know how to start the engines, but he had watched the sailors raise the sails that morning. Before they were half way up the ship lurched forward, scraping along the dock. At the wheel, he took a compass reading and held that course until the lights disappeared over the horizon.

He brought the sails down, and the yacht was adrift in the black emptiness of the night sea. He listened. There were sounds he did not know; sounds of a different life. Distant now were all those things he was running from; the threats, the foolery of government, his own and that of others.

He opened one of the containers on deck. It had life preservers. He opened the other. It had diving equipment. From this he lifted a weight belt. He replaced it with the pistol and then stripped. He left the belt and clothing on deck and went to his cabin. Here he dressed in new clothes before returning to the deck where he tied his old clothes, except his coat, to the weight belt and threw it overboard. He tossed the coat after and turned his attention to lowering the small motorboat that served as a lifeboat for the yacht. When it was lowered, he stepped in with his briefcase and cut the lines loose. Then, with compass reversed, he headed back to land.

Conclusion

I

Marcine rolled onto his back and stretched. He looked at the ocean and smiled, remembering the night he had died. He had nearly smashed the boat on some rocks, but other than that the suicide had been a complete success. They found the yacht, the pistol and his shirt, and though the boat he had taken had not been found, it seemed unnoted by the media. Perhaps that was his “friends” again. He did not know, or care. A dead man, with a briefcase of cash, he had found it easy to disappear.

He sat now on a warm beach in front of the small house he had purchased with a false name. Few questions were asked in such places when one paid cash. No one bothered him, and he ignored most of what went on around him. Life was as it had been; free. Inspiration and passion again controlled his life, and he was writing poems once more, which he figured he would publish under his real name a few years later, just to see how people would react. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He kind of liked being dead.

II

People called for the vote. Other people prevented it. It was ruled against the law. Proponents stated that it was the new law. Opinions grew ravenous, while demonstrations of all kinds sprouted seemingly from the ground. People cried out murder, they called Marcine a martyr, a prophet, a savior. Others called him a dreamer, a communist, an instigator. The turmoil of the war began to reemerge; indeed it had not died, only paused long enough to see things attempt to change and fail.

A certain wealthy business owner stated publicly that he was glad Marcine was dead but wished it had happened months earlier. That same man was shot three days later, and while many people saw him slain, few seemed to care. Still, despite the unrest raging in the collective mind, the nation continued to work. Yes, people took a day off on occasion to protest, but the machine continued to turn. Most people simply could not afford to become involved. They had their children to worry about, their homes and livelihoods. “Yes,” said many mouths, “it might have been great, but what can I do to bring about such change? I am not willing to sacrifice what I have gained in hopes that I might live better. And besides, it will only work if everyone takes part. Read the papers, it would not have passed anyway.”

Time passed, as it always does, and the lives of most continued or found anew the cycles of routine. Bread was bought, shows were played and taxes came and went, and while people might complain, they never considered that life very well might be better not only for themselves but for everyone. It would take only to change.

III

The Lion lay with his head on his paws, a glaze over his eyes of static boredom. He had walked every footstep of his cage already unimaginable times since he had been returned to its confining spaces. He had dreamed unknown dreams, but always they were interrupted by some child screaming or some fool taunting him. His legs were always tight, not like when he could run, back along the streets and into the plains, glancing about, pausing, chasing unknown creatures, striking, eating them. The flesh was always better when it still beat as if alive, instead of the stale slabs he now ate. The wind was no longer quite so warm, the water no longer so sweet, sleep no longer so refreshing; nothing as enjoyable, interesting, as it was. These memories fade. And back he thinks into that time and wonders if indeed he had been free. No, that was just a dream.