ScottishMongol Presents
A SufficientVelocity Original Series
A MONUMENT TO MAN'S ARROGANCE...
A SufficientVelocity Original Series
A MONUMENT TO MAN'S ARROGANCE...
A Monument to Man's Arrogance: Arizona to Virgin Earth
- Thread starter ScottishMongol
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Prologue
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
ScottishMongol Presents
A SufficientVelocity Original Series
A MONUMENT TO MAN'S ARROGANCE
or
ARIZONA ISOT TO VIRGIN EARTH
A SufficientVelocity Original Series
A MONUMENT TO MAN'S ARROGANCE
or
ARIZONA ISOT TO VIRGIN EARTH
"There was nothing we could do. Cut off, isolated, there was no food coming in, from anywhere. No food, just a week of rations in the Greater Metro...crops and herds could maybe add another week, but then there were the riots, and the damn militias...we needed armed escorts just to get maintenance workers to make sure the water was still flowing. And when the mutinies began, we didn't even have that. It took a month, a month for this damn city to turn into a charnel house.
There was nothing we could do! I made the decision to evacuate the Emergency Government from the capital, but Flagstaff, those fuckers, the "Northern Government", they shut the door on us.
Now it's all...it's all ruined, nothing between the Mogollon Rim and the old Mexican border except ash and dust, ash and dust...
There was nothing we could do..."
- last words of Doug Ducey, First President of the Emergency Government of the State of Arizona
"Ha. No, I don't remember the Old World. Well, maybe a little...lots of electronics and...everyone had cars, all the adults at least. But no, I was a kid then. That's what the Old World seems like, a story someone tells kids, a magical land where there's always water coming out of the ground, and everyone had more food than they could eat.
I was on the last plane out of Sky Harbor. Now that I remember, crowds of refugees trying to push their way to the barricade as the last 747 vanished into the sunset, by that point it was only the smaller ones. They say it was the most beautiful sunset they'd ever seen, the survivors I mean, that there was more orange and red and purple than any other, and of course it was from all the ash and smoke and dust thrown up by the burning city.
My mom, I remember her a little, she picked me up and held me head and shoulders above the crowd, she was screaming something but I...I couldn't hear her, and before I knew what was happening a soldier had grabbed me and vaulted over the barricade, and then we were running. I could hear the screaming of the jet engines, drowning out the screaming crowd, and then I was passed from one set of hands to another, and pulled into the plane, and then...
I managed to look out the window, once. Yeah, it was quite the sunset."
- Casey Smith, day laborer in Pacific Redoubt, Emergency Capital of the State Government of Arizona.
"It was a cascade effect. Along the Gila River, there was this initial spray of refugees, the survivalists and the smarter folks who knew they had to get out of dodge. Most of them were let in. Then when things started breaking down, you'd get a steady steam of them. I know that the Northern Government cut off the roads, same with the eastern, uh, regional governments. It was easy since those areas led through mountains, you could seal the passes. But you couldn't do that in the Gila River Valley.
Some of these people, they were moving in gangs, they would hit farms and towns for supplies, sometimes they'd wipe out a settlement and move in, hoping to bring in the crops themselves. This was before the mutinies, but when that happened you had soldiers moving in and splitting up herds of cattle, requisitioning supplies - some of them were still claiming to be working for the Emergency Government, since all the tv and radio stations went down word was slow in getting out about that.
So you'd get this cascade effect, like I said, people hitting one place and moving on to the next, grinding down what could have been a good stretch of farmland and civilization. Around this time things were getting really bad in the city...well, just about everyone was screwed. The freeways were getting clogged, all it takes is one snarl and the whole line backs up, and people started taking off into the desert. Some set off on foot, and died, others in their cars. Some of those lived.
In places where the towns or refugee camps reached, like, critical mass, they'd break apart, spilling new raiders all over the place. Well, those that didn't die of starvation, or disease, or just up and shoot themselves.
Eventually everything between Yuma and Phoenix was pillaging hordes, killing each other and anyone in their way, and the real nasty diseases were coming out of the city...you can see why the survivors had to be mad crazy bastards."
- Peter Danvers, scavenger.
"THE OLD WORLD DIED IN FIRE. WE ARE THE HEIRS OF THE PHOENIX, RISEN FROM ASHES TO INHERIT THE NEW WORLD."
- unknown raider
There was nothing we could do! I made the decision to evacuate the Emergency Government from the capital, but Flagstaff, those fuckers, the "Northern Government", they shut the door on us.
Now it's all...it's all ruined, nothing between the Mogollon Rim and the old Mexican border except ash and dust, ash and dust...
There was nothing we could do..."
- last words of Doug Ducey, First President of the Emergency Government of the State of Arizona
"Ha. No, I don't remember the Old World. Well, maybe a little...lots of electronics and...everyone had cars, all the adults at least. But no, I was a kid then. That's what the Old World seems like, a story someone tells kids, a magical land where there's always water coming out of the ground, and everyone had more food than they could eat.
I was on the last plane out of Sky Harbor. Now that I remember, crowds of refugees trying to push their way to the barricade as the last 747 vanished into the sunset, by that point it was only the smaller ones. They say it was the most beautiful sunset they'd ever seen, the survivors I mean, that there was more orange and red and purple than any other, and of course it was from all the ash and smoke and dust thrown up by the burning city.
My mom, I remember her a little, she picked me up and held me head and shoulders above the crowd, she was screaming something but I...I couldn't hear her, and before I knew what was happening a soldier had grabbed me and vaulted over the barricade, and then we were running. I could hear the screaming of the jet engines, drowning out the screaming crowd, and then I was passed from one set of hands to another, and pulled into the plane, and then...
I managed to look out the window, once. Yeah, it was quite the sunset."
- Casey Smith, day laborer in Pacific Redoubt, Emergency Capital of the State Government of Arizona.
"It was a cascade effect. Along the Gila River, there was this initial spray of refugees, the survivalists and the smarter folks who knew they had to get out of dodge. Most of them were let in. Then when things started breaking down, you'd get a steady steam of them. I know that the Northern Government cut off the roads, same with the eastern, uh, regional governments. It was easy since those areas led through mountains, you could seal the passes. But you couldn't do that in the Gila River Valley.
Some of these people, they were moving in gangs, they would hit farms and towns for supplies, sometimes they'd wipe out a settlement and move in, hoping to bring in the crops themselves. This was before the mutinies, but when that happened you had soldiers moving in and splitting up herds of cattle, requisitioning supplies - some of them were still claiming to be working for the Emergency Government, since all the tv and radio stations went down word was slow in getting out about that.
So you'd get this cascade effect, like I said, people hitting one place and moving on to the next, grinding down what could have been a good stretch of farmland and civilization. Around this time things were getting really bad in the city...well, just about everyone was screwed. The freeways were getting clogged, all it takes is one snarl and the whole line backs up, and people started taking off into the desert. Some set off on foot, and died, others in their cars. Some of those lived.
In places where the towns or refugee camps reached, like, critical mass, they'd break apart, spilling new raiders all over the place. Well, those that didn't die of starvation, or disease, or just up and shoot themselves.
Eventually everything between Yuma and Phoenix was pillaging hordes, killing each other and anyone in their way, and the real nasty diseases were coming out of the city...you can see why the survivors had to be mad crazy bastards."
- Peter Danvers, scavenger.
"THE OLD WORLD DIED IN FIRE. WE ARE THE HEIRS OF THE PHOENIX, RISEN FROM ASHES TO INHERIT THE NEW WORLD."
- unknown raider
Last edited:
Chapter 1.1
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter 1: The Arizona State Government-in-Exile
This report was commissioned by the Arizona State Government-in-Exile, currently claiming to be the only legitimate successor to the Emergency Government of the State of Arizona, which itself arose from the State Government back in the Old World. This claim is recognized by nobody outside the area controlled by the Government, but as the leadership does intend to eventually return to the ruins of the state of Arizona and re-establish their proper authority, they are expending significant resources in sending an expedition to assess the state of things now that five years have passed since the evacuation. This is a fact-finding mission, and no small amount of resources are being put into it. I find it an honor to be chosen for this task, a recognition of my considerable abilities, though of course credit is also due to my security detail, diplomatic attaches, and the local guides who guided me across the ruins of this state.
Perhaps it will be of use to describe who I am, as the author of this report. A journalist by trade in the Old World, I was possessed with no small amount of luck, and found myself on a flight out of Sky Harbor during the airlift that evacuated the Emergency Government. While I have my own story of chaos, survival, and forming a new life, so does everyone else that is alive today, and in any case I am not being paid to write my memoirs.
It will suffice to say that I am Rebecca Valdez, an investigative journalist for the Government-in-Exile of the State of Arizona, 26 years old, and at one point in my life a political activist.
Perhaps it will be of use to describe who I am, as the author of this report. A journalist by trade in the Old World, I was possessed with no small amount of luck, and found myself on a flight out of Sky Harbor during the airlift that evacuated the Emergency Government. While I have my own story of chaos, survival, and forming a new life, so does everyone else that is alive today, and in any case I am not being paid to write my memoirs.
It will suffice to say that I am Rebecca Valdez, an investigative journalist for the Government-in-Exile of the State of Arizona, 26 years old, and at one point in my life a political activist.
***
This is, perhaps, the riskiest step in my journey, for the simple fact that it may end my expedition before it even begins. There are some in the Government who would prefer not to take too close a look at themselves, but I feel that no exploration of the current nations that descended from the state of Arizona would be complete if any one were omitted. Again, my own views are not necessary to record here, and I hope that the words of my interview subjects will speak for themselves.
***
I meet Sharon Williams in her apartment in the re-purposed bulk of a 747. She guides me into the sitting room, complete with a bookshelf and a table with chairs. We sit by the tiny window that looks out over the fields as she pours me a cup of tea, made from ground sunflower shells.
I like to think we've done rather well. Survivalists were able to point out certain local plants and herbs that were useful to cultivate. And as you can see we have...housing, of a sort. Creature comforts go a long way.
My father was a commercial pilot. That's probably the only reason I'm alive right now, but there you have it. We made it to Downtown before all the roads were shut down, and well, my father knew...people in the government.
I don't remember much of what happened afterwards. There was so much chaos in those first few days, after we made the water landing out in the bay, and the rafts ferried us all to shore, people panicking and holding on to whatever luggage they had. I was clutching my grandfather's old shotgun, he fought in World War 2...
[What were the main concerns at first?]
Food. Everyone, everywhere, was worried about food. We only had what we could take on the planes, and then after we had the foraging and hunting parties...the L.A. Basin had plenty of mule deer in those days, and the waters were stocked with fish, untouched.
We didn't have to worry about shelter. They were able to beach most of the planes, it damaged nearly all of them, but we didn't have any jet fuel so it didn't matter. We used what was left in the tanks for cooking and heat.
[What about you?]
I had been working on an engineering degree. I was helping with the electricity, the steam. Designing, not...
My father was one of the pilots. They were all promised certain...comforts, after the airlift. Housing, rations.
[So you weren't doing mechanical work?]
No. No, that was for the others. The mechanical crews, the refugees.
She rubs her hands together. Unlike many, her hands are free of callouses.
[So what about after survival was assured?]
Clothing, transportation, and the establishment of more permanent infrastructure. And the survival of the political order.
The Emergency Government wasn't as big as it had been at first. For one thing, it hadn't originally involved the whole state government. Certain factions, certain segments, weren't let in on the process. It was decided that some of them were more liabilities than assets. For another, various leaders of the military, police, and national guard were placed on the Emergency Council.
[Do you know how those decisions were made?]
No.
Then there was attrition. It was especially bad among police and military, during the riots and then the mutinies later on. A lot of people were lost en route to Sky Harbor.
I know people said there was...intentional...
She trails off.
So the Emergency Council was formed after the airlift. After that, we took stock of our personnel. Most of the leadership were elected officials or a few upper-level bureaucrats, and the bulk of our "civilian" base were police, soldiers, national guardsmen...and staffers, people like that. And the plane crews.
And all their families, of course. Those that could make it to the airport, a few military units tried to keep the freeways open as long as possible...
And the refugees, on those last few planes. I...don't know who made that decision. There were rumors that it was soldiers acting on their own initiative, and not acting on orders of the government. I wouldn't know.
But...look, after the crisis, we needed to focus on building an agricultural base, and a manufacturing base, and maintaining continuity of government. And most of those refugees were...unskilled labor, desk workers or whatever. And usually not very fit. That's when labor classes were implemented.
[Can you elaborate?]
So like, you had Class A, leadership and management, then Class B, skilled labor, and that included enlisted officers, then Class C, unskilled labor. I was Class A, the mechanics who built my designs were Class B. That was the smallest of the three.
Class C, that included most of the military, we set them to work digging and planting and carrying things. Everything was manual labor in those days, nobody was fitting a backhoe onto a plane, not with the holds stuffed with emergency rations and stuff.
Sorry, I'm getting a little sidetracked. What do you want to know?
[How was it decided who would join the Emergency Council?]
Well, like I said, most of the unskilled labor, they didn't have the necessary education either, so we didn't trust them. There were military men on the Emergency Council, but there was a lot of re-organization among them, and that was all internal. Officers being promoted or most of the rank-and-file being discharged to work in the fields. The military has three permanent seats, you know, one is the General of the Armed Forces, one is the Chief of Police, and one is a civilian seat chosen only by the two of them.
Sorry, getting ahead of myself there.
So the problem the Emergency Council had was finding the right people and putting them on the Council. And so it was decided that they would select their own members.
[No elections?]
No time. The Class C workers were all busy trying to bring in the harvest. And...think about the problems. The only people that would be able to "run" would be Class A anyways, and...well, who would the military vote for other than their own officers? No, it was better to have the leadership decide who would join their own ranks. Then, the council would elect their own President. Nice and neat.
So when some of the older members of the council died off, that was when the first new blood was brought in. So many of them were old men, and rations had been tight for everyone, the stress...I'm surprised some of them made it that long.
She laughs nervously and clears her throat.
[You mentioned your father had influence.]
We were...wealthy in the Old World. He knew people in government, he'd...contributed to their campaigns.
It was just luck that most of the surviving government was made up of one party...they dominated the state, there were more of them anyway, and...
[Did they feel your father was qualified?]
Of course! They chose him because they knew him well, they knew his temperament. Wouldn't you prefer someone you worked with all your life?
She looks out the window. Workers are tending to the fields of sunflowers and cotton. She sips her tea.
[When he passed away...?]
She glares at me.
My father was the President of the Council. I'd been near government as long as he was on the Council, they knew me too. And I'd been management before that. I don't see why anyone should question it.
I congratulate Sharon Williams on her recent election to the Executive Council, shake her hand, and make my departure.
I like to think we've done rather well. Survivalists were able to point out certain local plants and herbs that were useful to cultivate. And as you can see we have...housing, of a sort. Creature comforts go a long way.
My father was a commercial pilot. That's probably the only reason I'm alive right now, but there you have it. We made it to Downtown before all the roads were shut down, and well, my father knew...people in the government.
I don't remember much of what happened afterwards. There was so much chaos in those first few days, after we made the water landing out in the bay, and the rafts ferried us all to shore, people panicking and holding on to whatever luggage they had. I was clutching my grandfather's old shotgun, he fought in World War 2...
[What were the main concerns at first?]
Food. Everyone, everywhere, was worried about food. We only had what we could take on the planes, and then after we had the foraging and hunting parties...the L.A. Basin had plenty of mule deer in those days, and the waters were stocked with fish, untouched.
We didn't have to worry about shelter. They were able to beach most of the planes, it damaged nearly all of them, but we didn't have any jet fuel so it didn't matter. We used what was left in the tanks for cooking and heat.
[What about you?]
I had been working on an engineering degree. I was helping with the electricity, the steam. Designing, not...
My father was one of the pilots. They were all promised certain...comforts, after the airlift. Housing, rations.
[So you weren't doing mechanical work?]
No. No, that was for the others. The mechanical crews, the refugees.
She rubs her hands together. Unlike many, her hands are free of callouses.
[So what about after survival was assured?]
Clothing, transportation, and the establishment of more permanent infrastructure. And the survival of the political order.
The Emergency Government wasn't as big as it had been at first. For one thing, it hadn't originally involved the whole state government. Certain factions, certain segments, weren't let in on the process. It was decided that some of them were more liabilities than assets. For another, various leaders of the military, police, and national guard were placed on the Emergency Council.
[Do you know how those decisions were made?]
No.
Then there was attrition. It was especially bad among police and military, during the riots and then the mutinies later on. A lot of people were lost en route to Sky Harbor.
I know people said there was...intentional...
She trails off.
So the Emergency Council was formed after the airlift. After that, we took stock of our personnel. Most of the leadership were elected officials or a few upper-level bureaucrats, and the bulk of our "civilian" base were police, soldiers, national guardsmen...and staffers, people like that. And the plane crews.
And all their families, of course. Those that could make it to the airport, a few military units tried to keep the freeways open as long as possible...
And the refugees, on those last few planes. I...don't know who made that decision. There were rumors that it was soldiers acting on their own initiative, and not acting on orders of the government. I wouldn't know.
But...look, after the crisis, we needed to focus on building an agricultural base, and a manufacturing base, and maintaining continuity of government. And most of those refugees were...unskilled labor, desk workers or whatever. And usually not very fit. That's when labor classes were implemented.
[Can you elaborate?]
So like, you had Class A, leadership and management, then Class B, skilled labor, and that included enlisted officers, then Class C, unskilled labor. I was Class A, the mechanics who built my designs were Class B. That was the smallest of the three.
Class C, that included most of the military, we set them to work digging and planting and carrying things. Everything was manual labor in those days, nobody was fitting a backhoe onto a plane, not with the holds stuffed with emergency rations and stuff.
Sorry, I'm getting a little sidetracked. What do you want to know?
[How was it decided who would join the Emergency Council?]
Well, like I said, most of the unskilled labor, they didn't have the necessary education either, so we didn't trust them. There were military men on the Emergency Council, but there was a lot of re-organization among them, and that was all internal. Officers being promoted or most of the rank-and-file being discharged to work in the fields. The military has three permanent seats, you know, one is the General of the Armed Forces, one is the Chief of Police, and one is a civilian seat chosen only by the two of them.
Sorry, getting ahead of myself there.
So the problem the Emergency Council had was finding the right people and putting them on the Council. And so it was decided that they would select their own members.
[No elections?]
No time. The Class C workers were all busy trying to bring in the harvest. And...think about the problems. The only people that would be able to "run" would be Class A anyways, and...well, who would the military vote for other than their own officers? No, it was better to have the leadership decide who would join their own ranks. Then, the council would elect their own President. Nice and neat.
So when some of the older members of the council died off, that was when the first new blood was brought in. So many of them were old men, and rations had been tight for everyone, the stress...I'm surprised some of them made it that long.
She laughs nervously and clears her throat.
[You mentioned your father had influence.]
We were...wealthy in the Old World. He knew people in government, he'd...contributed to their campaigns.
It was just luck that most of the surviving government was made up of one party...they dominated the state, there were more of them anyway, and...
[Did they feel your father was qualified?]
Of course! They chose him because they knew him well, they knew his temperament. Wouldn't you prefer someone you worked with all your life?
She looks out the window. Workers are tending to the fields of sunflowers and cotton. She sips her tea.
[When he passed away...?]
She glares at me.
My father was the President of the Council. I'd been near government as long as he was on the Council, they knew me too. And I'd been management before that. I don't see why anyone should question it.
I congratulate Sharon Williams on her recent election to the Executive Council, shake her hand, and make my departure.
Last edited:
Chapter 1.2
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I meet Casey Smith outside her place of work, a government-owned textile factory. Previously it made clothes and blankets for Pacific Redoubt's citizens, now it is preparing to manufacture textiles for export. Throughout the interview, she drinks from a bottle of grain alcohol cut with orange juice.
I guess you could say I was raised by the government, more or less. No parents, and...well, everyone had to look out for themselves. That's what they told me, anyway.
She takes a drink.
At first they had me watching the other kids. The younger ones, I mean the babies. All the adults were needed, every pair of hands. Building and digging and...stuff. So they put the older kids in charge of the younger ones. You grow up fast like that, and that's what I did. By the time I was fourteen, people my age were being put to work in the fields, the roads. They had me working the loom. Some braniac had worked up a few models, so it wasn't by hand and, well, everyone needed clothes and blankets and stuff. They had the cotton fields bringing in crops by then.
She takes another drink.
And the orange trees.
[Do you enjoy your work?]
I guess? Fuck man, it's work. All day every day. The ration cards keep me alive, pay the rent. You don't work, you don't eat, them's the rules. Rule #1, or whatever. That's what they said when everyone was coming ashore after the airlift and far as I know they haven't stopped saying it.
[Do you think the Executive Council is fair?]
She takes another drink.
What, like the idea? Fuck man, I dunno. I don't remember what the government was like in the Old World, I was ten, for all I know it was the same as it is now.
But...sometimes I hear people talk. The older workers.
Look, man I don't know about voting or nothing. In the early days, when the Emergency Council happened, everyone was too busy working. We didn't even know the Council had been formed until after the fact, it was just shuffling the leadership. Then months went on, the months turned to a year, no changes. They never told us when the first vacancy happened either. By the time everyone realized it was happening behind our backs...
She shrugs.
Everyone had shelter, food, and clothing. After what happened in Phoenix, after the hard work of the first year, that was enough to keep most of them satisfied.
For someone like me, who didn't even know what she was "missing"? Shit.
Besides, even if I wanted all that, I'm just some fucking factory worker. Last time I had any school was the Old World. Not like I know anything about what goes on inside the council room.
[What else do you do besides work?]
Do? Not much else to do. Uh, drink, I guess. Sometimes with the other guys and gals, after work. Sometimes alone...
Music? Yeah, a few people know how to play. Not much in the way of instruments, but it passes the time. I can read, not well, but it's not like anyone brought their own library on the airlift, that's all in the...
She waves off, vaguely in the direction of the government buildings by the beach.
Lots of people tell stories. Some of 'em I half-remember from when I was a kid. Some of 'em are supposed to be about things that happened in the Old World, and fuck if I know what's true. I've been in a plane, I'd believe folks've been to the Moon.
But nah, ain't much time to do any of that, unless it's after work. You put in the hours to pay for food, then a little more to chip in with the rent, then you need new shoes so you work a little more...then you've got to go home and some shit's broken, lucky the guy next door showed you how to fix a broken oven, it still takes a few hours...
Most of the time you just curl up after work without eating. No time or energy left, man.
She takes another drink.
I sometimes ask myself. Why did they leave?
Like, Phoenix was falling apart, I get it, nobody who was staying there was going to live, but...why this setup?
[Can you be more specific?]
Ok, so, like I said, the older workers talk...
All the people in charge...they came over here an set it up so they were still in charge, so there was still a safety net for them. And they brought the rest of us so there was someone to do all the work. And the official line is, you know this is just a Government-in-Exile, they're going back one day to put everything back together.
[Do you think that's possible?]
Probably not. I dunno how big the army is, but our closest neighbor is Yuma, and from what I hear...yeesh. Probably why we're sending them cloth instead of soldiers.
And look, I don't know about any of that. But if they were going to evacuate the Emergency Government from Phoenix, what was the goal? What were they trying to save?
If it was about survival...look, I know Flagstaff shut the door on the government, but you're telling me none of them could've asked for asylum? Sure they would've been put to work like we were, but they'd be alive.
Hell, maybe that's it. Maybe they wanted to save themselves and stay in charge, preserve their status.
...that's what I hear people say, at least.
I guess you could say I was raised by the government, more or less. No parents, and...well, everyone had to look out for themselves. That's what they told me, anyway.
She takes a drink.
At first they had me watching the other kids. The younger ones, I mean the babies. All the adults were needed, every pair of hands. Building and digging and...stuff. So they put the older kids in charge of the younger ones. You grow up fast like that, and that's what I did. By the time I was fourteen, people my age were being put to work in the fields, the roads. They had me working the loom. Some braniac had worked up a few models, so it wasn't by hand and, well, everyone needed clothes and blankets and stuff. They had the cotton fields bringing in crops by then.
She takes another drink.
And the orange trees.
[Do you enjoy your work?]
I guess? Fuck man, it's work. All day every day. The ration cards keep me alive, pay the rent. You don't work, you don't eat, them's the rules. Rule #1, or whatever. That's what they said when everyone was coming ashore after the airlift and far as I know they haven't stopped saying it.
[Do you think the Executive Council is fair?]
She takes another drink.
What, like the idea? Fuck man, I dunno. I don't remember what the government was like in the Old World, I was ten, for all I know it was the same as it is now.
But...sometimes I hear people talk. The older workers.
Look, man I don't know about voting or nothing. In the early days, when the Emergency Council happened, everyone was too busy working. We didn't even know the Council had been formed until after the fact, it was just shuffling the leadership. Then months went on, the months turned to a year, no changes. They never told us when the first vacancy happened either. By the time everyone realized it was happening behind our backs...
She shrugs.
Everyone had shelter, food, and clothing. After what happened in Phoenix, after the hard work of the first year, that was enough to keep most of them satisfied.
For someone like me, who didn't even know what she was "missing"? Shit.
Besides, even if I wanted all that, I'm just some fucking factory worker. Last time I had any school was the Old World. Not like I know anything about what goes on inside the council room.
[What else do you do besides work?]
Do? Not much else to do. Uh, drink, I guess. Sometimes with the other guys and gals, after work. Sometimes alone...
Music? Yeah, a few people know how to play. Not much in the way of instruments, but it passes the time. I can read, not well, but it's not like anyone brought their own library on the airlift, that's all in the...
She waves off, vaguely in the direction of the government buildings by the beach.
Lots of people tell stories. Some of 'em I half-remember from when I was a kid. Some of 'em are supposed to be about things that happened in the Old World, and fuck if I know what's true. I've been in a plane, I'd believe folks've been to the Moon.
But nah, ain't much time to do any of that, unless it's after work. You put in the hours to pay for food, then a little more to chip in with the rent, then you need new shoes so you work a little more...then you've got to go home and some shit's broken, lucky the guy next door showed you how to fix a broken oven, it still takes a few hours...
Most of the time you just curl up after work without eating. No time or energy left, man.
She takes another drink.
I sometimes ask myself. Why did they leave?
Like, Phoenix was falling apart, I get it, nobody who was staying there was going to live, but...why this setup?
[Can you be more specific?]
Ok, so, like I said, the older workers talk...
All the people in charge...they came over here an set it up so they were still in charge, so there was still a safety net for them. And they brought the rest of us so there was someone to do all the work. And the official line is, you know this is just a Government-in-Exile, they're going back one day to put everything back together.
[Do you think that's possible?]
Probably not. I dunno how big the army is, but our closest neighbor is Yuma, and from what I hear...yeesh. Probably why we're sending them cloth instead of soldiers.
And look, I don't know about any of that. But if they were going to evacuate the Emergency Government from Phoenix, what was the goal? What were they trying to save?
If it was about survival...look, I know Flagstaff shut the door on the government, but you're telling me none of them could've asked for asylum? Sure they would've been put to work like we were, but they'd be alive.
Hell, maybe that's it. Maybe they wanted to save themselves and stay in charge, preserve their status.
...that's what I hear people say, at least.
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Chapter 1.3
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Admiral Oliver Grace is the commanding officer at the Pacific Redoubt dockyards. Here, wood, salvaged metal, and experimental steam engines are combined to form the fledgling ships of the Government-in-Exile's Navy. Oliver and I lean against the railing and talk while my transport is brought to steam.
I'm not going to give you any bullshit about "just following orders". Everyone who fired a bullet for the Emergency Government did it because they knew it was the only way they were going to survive Phoenix. From day one, we knew if the Government went down it'd be our heads.
[Was there a sense of us versus them, then?]
Well, yeah. On one hand you had the people in charge, the people trying to hold everything together, and then you had the...the masses, who, yeah they were just trying to survive, but some parts of the city...the cops could've told you that it was already like being in hostile territory.
And people are fucking...dumb, panicky animals, that's from an Old World movie. Even the ones who weren't looting and shit, the normal everyday folks, they wanted to get on with their lives, but how do you do that when your life's been turned upside down?
So yeah, the curfews, the patrols, nobody had any regrets. Even when the first bread riots...sorry "food protests" broke out, and they ordered us to clear the streets, nobody raised any stink.
[What about the mutinies?]
The mutinies came later. That was when shit was getting really bad, people'd picked through the garbage and their pantries, you had rumors about cannibalism, when some neighborhoods had just cordoned themselves off, done a triage...real fucked up shit.
But we still had the military rations, which sucked, and the first pick of the stockpiles, which didn't suck so much.
[First pick?]
Yeah, whaddya want? You keep your soldiers fed or nothing's gonna work. We were on thin as fuck ice in those days. You had mobs attacking food depots, a riot every day, and the patrols were getting sketchy, they'd get hit by civilians with firearms or fucking IEDs - IEDs! In the US of fucking A!
And that's not to mention the bastards, the gangs who'd carved out their own turfs, oh, and the militias. Least the militias did the courtesy of fighting each other, lefties with guns versus skinheads in the streets.
[Is it true that the Emergency Government was planning to abandon certain parts of the city in order to consolidate their resources?]
Without a doubt. Hell, it was already in action before the Emergency Government decided to pull out entirely. Maybe that's why shit fell apart first in those places, maybe it was the other way around.
[Is it true that the parts of the city which were to be abandoned were lower-income?]
Man, what do you think?
[Do you think the Emergency Government acted in the interests of preserving order?]
I think they acted in the interests of preserving the government. Look, Phoenix wasn't gonna work. You had too many people, and not enough food, and the fighting and fires were just making things come apart at the edges. The only thing you could do was go door to door, round up everyone who couldn't work, shoot em, and make the rest work to turn every inch of lawn and golf course into farmland. I don't need to tell you how that would've gone.
[Tell me about the mutinies.]
That was when they ordered us to fire on civilians. When you had protesters - actual protests, not mobs going door to door - demanding more food, more medicine, more what the fuck ever. Before we'd just send the riot police to clear them out, but then they called out the military, ordered us to shoot to kill and, well...
Yeah, there was the mood that we were occupying enemy territory, but they were still people. Scared, hungry people.
Some units did it, of course. Even the deserters shot first. We lost four out of the five platoons that were in that first "firefight". Just vanished the same night, and after that they cracked down on security, officers were given extended powers, field executions and shit for disobeying orders.
The mutinies were worse though, soldiers shooting their enlisted officers, or the officers leading them, they'd shoot down any Emergency Government officials on base and then march out, they'd seize food depots or whatever. A lot of the raiders out between Phoenix and Yuma, they're probably former military or even cops.
God, you even had deserters from the Air Force Base, a couple bastards managed to take off in their fighter jets, and wasn't that embarrassing for the men at the top. Dunno where they ended up, maybe Yuma, might be fucking sky pirates for all I know.
So then we went to civil war levels, and I think a lot of that contributed to the Emergency Government pulling out entirely. We were also starting to get reports of the nasty plagues breaking out, man that spooked a lot of us.
[What were things like after the airlift?]
Totally different mood. After the airlift we weren't in "hostile territory" anymore, and we had families, and yeah food was tight but...shit, we were alive.
The work wasn't worse than anything else we'd done. There was some crime, but hard work and short rations did enough to mute most of that until we started getting results.
He nods towards my transport.
We didn't have any of those actual ships, it was all improvised canoes bringing in fish, but now we can actually start making it a stable part of the food base, which frees up more space for cash crops. Handy, that.
He pauses.
This used to be the LA Basin, you know. 18 million people in the Old World, and when we came down out of that airplane it was miles and miles of scrubland and open oak woods. And now it's, I dunno, shanty towns and salvaged airplanes and farmland. Really surreal, some days.
[What is the military like now?]
Now? Glorified police compared to the Old World. Yeah, we've got the police already, but right now we're more like the National Guard in the Old World, but with a mandatory draft. You don't get paid for it, you just keep your gun in your house, show up to the drills every week, maybe run a border patrol once a month.
He shakes his head.
I don't fucking know what they're expecting, Yuma's got all the hardware, we're all infantry right now. Probably why the trade's so important, they'd rather we be nice and friendly with our neighbors, makes us less of a threat or whatever.
[As an officer, what can you tell me about the Government-in-Exile's High Command?]
Well, first off, understand that I was one of the only enlisted Naval officers who was in Phoenix and was in a position to take advantage of it. It's funny, thought I'd never be of any use except as another gun, and here I am, an Admiral! Admiral of a tiny ramshackle fleet, but there it is.
So I guess as Admiral I'd like to say I'm right up there with the General of the Armed Forces, but no, I answer to him, and isn't that a bitch?
That, uh, that was a joke. I know the General is a hardass, but I mean, so was everyone who made it through.
He clears his throat.
So, anyway, the thing about the General and the Police Chief is that they'd basically done whatever the Emergency Government ordered, after proper advice of course, but things changed after the airlift. Now the soldiers were being lumped in with the other Class Cs, they were...well, they were worried about losing their support base in the general mix. So they basically told the Emergency Council in no uncertain terms that it was the military that made sure they were all alive to be here in the first place.
I was at that meeting. "You need to understand that we still command the greater part of the population outright," the General told them, "And you did permit every one of them to take their service arm with them on those planes."
Well, the old men didn't like it, but the General and the Police Chief were given seats on the Council, instead of answering to it like they did with the Emergency Government. That's when they were able to implement the draft, the mandatory service, all that stuff. Even though we don't share a land border with any other human nation.
The new Executive Council is a lot more supportive of our armed forces.
[What do you think a strong military is necessary for?]
Like I said, man. Keep the soldiers happy or you don't have a state. "Monopoly of violence" they call it. I know things look quiet...not happy, but everyone look busy with their work...but there's a lot simmering under the surface. People still remember the Old World, and you can't stop people from talking to each other. Some of these ungrateful bastards would string us all up if they wanted, hell if it weren't for the guns at their backs a lot of them wouldn't have built the fucking farms that kept them alive in those early days.
You'll find out in those other places, the wastelands and the tinpot dictatorships. Look there and you'll find out what happens when you don't have soldiers.
The ship's steam whistle sounds, and Admiral Grace nods his head.
Speaking of. Your ship's about to leave, miss.
***
AN: I'd like feedback on this one. I'm not very familiar with military matters, being more focused on the political side of things, and recent...IRL events may have colored my thinking as I wrote this. I'm sure there's plenty of things I haven't covered as well, so feel free to ask questions about the Government-in-Exile at this time.
Next: the State of Arizona, "Yuma Government"
I'm not going to give you any bullshit about "just following orders". Everyone who fired a bullet for the Emergency Government did it because they knew it was the only way they were going to survive Phoenix. From day one, we knew if the Government went down it'd be our heads.
[Was there a sense of us versus them, then?]
Well, yeah. On one hand you had the people in charge, the people trying to hold everything together, and then you had the...the masses, who, yeah they were just trying to survive, but some parts of the city...the cops could've told you that it was already like being in hostile territory.
And people are fucking...dumb, panicky animals, that's from an Old World movie. Even the ones who weren't looting and shit, the normal everyday folks, they wanted to get on with their lives, but how do you do that when your life's been turned upside down?
So yeah, the curfews, the patrols, nobody had any regrets. Even when the first bread riots...sorry "food protests" broke out, and they ordered us to clear the streets, nobody raised any stink.
[What about the mutinies?]
The mutinies came later. That was when shit was getting really bad, people'd picked through the garbage and their pantries, you had rumors about cannibalism, when some neighborhoods had just cordoned themselves off, done a triage...real fucked up shit.
But we still had the military rations, which sucked, and the first pick of the stockpiles, which didn't suck so much.
[First pick?]
Yeah, whaddya want? You keep your soldiers fed or nothing's gonna work. We were on thin as fuck ice in those days. You had mobs attacking food depots, a riot every day, and the patrols were getting sketchy, they'd get hit by civilians with firearms or fucking IEDs - IEDs! In the US of fucking A!
And that's not to mention the bastards, the gangs who'd carved out their own turfs, oh, and the militias. Least the militias did the courtesy of fighting each other, lefties with guns versus skinheads in the streets.
[Is it true that the Emergency Government was planning to abandon certain parts of the city in order to consolidate their resources?]
Without a doubt. Hell, it was already in action before the Emergency Government decided to pull out entirely. Maybe that's why shit fell apart first in those places, maybe it was the other way around.
[Is it true that the parts of the city which were to be abandoned were lower-income?]
Man, what do you think?
[Do you think the Emergency Government acted in the interests of preserving order?]
I think they acted in the interests of preserving the government. Look, Phoenix wasn't gonna work. You had too many people, and not enough food, and the fighting and fires were just making things come apart at the edges. The only thing you could do was go door to door, round up everyone who couldn't work, shoot em, and make the rest work to turn every inch of lawn and golf course into farmland. I don't need to tell you how that would've gone.
[Tell me about the mutinies.]
That was when they ordered us to fire on civilians. When you had protesters - actual protests, not mobs going door to door - demanding more food, more medicine, more what the fuck ever. Before we'd just send the riot police to clear them out, but then they called out the military, ordered us to shoot to kill and, well...
Yeah, there was the mood that we were occupying enemy territory, but they were still people. Scared, hungry people.
Some units did it, of course. Even the deserters shot first. We lost four out of the five platoons that were in that first "firefight". Just vanished the same night, and after that they cracked down on security, officers were given extended powers, field executions and shit for disobeying orders.
The mutinies were worse though, soldiers shooting their enlisted officers, or the officers leading them, they'd shoot down any Emergency Government officials on base and then march out, they'd seize food depots or whatever. A lot of the raiders out between Phoenix and Yuma, they're probably former military or even cops.
God, you even had deserters from the Air Force Base, a couple bastards managed to take off in their fighter jets, and wasn't that embarrassing for the men at the top. Dunno where they ended up, maybe Yuma, might be fucking sky pirates for all I know.
So then we went to civil war levels, and I think a lot of that contributed to the Emergency Government pulling out entirely. We were also starting to get reports of the nasty plagues breaking out, man that spooked a lot of us.
[What were things like after the airlift?]
Totally different mood. After the airlift we weren't in "hostile territory" anymore, and we had families, and yeah food was tight but...shit, we were alive.
The work wasn't worse than anything else we'd done. There was some crime, but hard work and short rations did enough to mute most of that until we started getting results.
He nods towards my transport.
We didn't have any of those actual ships, it was all improvised canoes bringing in fish, but now we can actually start making it a stable part of the food base, which frees up more space for cash crops. Handy, that.
He pauses.
This used to be the LA Basin, you know. 18 million people in the Old World, and when we came down out of that airplane it was miles and miles of scrubland and open oak woods. And now it's, I dunno, shanty towns and salvaged airplanes and farmland. Really surreal, some days.
[What is the military like now?]
Now? Glorified police compared to the Old World. Yeah, we've got the police already, but right now we're more like the National Guard in the Old World, but with a mandatory draft. You don't get paid for it, you just keep your gun in your house, show up to the drills every week, maybe run a border patrol once a month.
He shakes his head.
I don't fucking know what they're expecting, Yuma's got all the hardware, we're all infantry right now. Probably why the trade's so important, they'd rather we be nice and friendly with our neighbors, makes us less of a threat or whatever.
[As an officer, what can you tell me about the Government-in-Exile's High Command?]
Well, first off, understand that I was one of the only enlisted Naval officers who was in Phoenix and was in a position to take advantage of it. It's funny, thought I'd never be of any use except as another gun, and here I am, an Admiral! Admiral of a tiny ramshackle fleet, but there it is.
So I guess as Admiral I'd like to say I'm right up there with the General of the Armed Forces, but no, I answer to him, and isn't that a bitch?
That, uh, that was a joke. I know the General is a hardass, but I mean, so was everyone who made it through.
He clears his throat.
So, anyway, the thing about the General and the Police Chief is that they'd basically done whatever the Emergency Government ordered, after proper advice of course, but things changed after the airlift. Now the soldiers were being lumped in with the other Class Cs, they were...well, they were worried about losing their support base in the general mix. So they basically told the Emergency Council in no uncertain terms that it was the military that made sure they were all alive to be here in the first place.
I was at that meeting. "You need to understand that we still command the greater part of the population outright," the General told them, "And you did permit every one of them to take their service arm with them on those planes."
Well, the old men didn't like it, but the General and the Police Chief were given seats on the Council, instead of answering to it like they did with the Emergency Government. That's when they were able to implement the draft, the mandatory service, all that stuff. Even though we don't share a land border with any other human nation.
The new Executive Council is a lot more supportive of our armed forces.
[What do you think a strong military is necessary for?]
Like I said, man. Keep the soldiers happy or you don't have a state. "Monopoly of violence" they call it. I know things look quiet...not happy, but everyone look busy with their work...but there's a lot simmering under the surface. People still remember the Old World, and you can't stop people from talking to each other. Some of these ungrateful bastards would string us all up if they wanted, hell if it weren't for the guns at their backs a lot of them wouldn't have built the fucking farms that kept them alive in those early days.
You'll find out in those other places, the wastelands and the tinpot dictatorships. Look there and you'll find out what happens when you don't have soldiers.
The ship's steam whistle sounds, and Admiral Grace nods his head.
Speaking of. Your ship's about to leave, miss.
***
AN: I'd like feedback on this one. I'm not very familiar with military matters, being more focused on the political side of things, and recent...IRL events may have colored my thinking as I wrote this. I'm sure there's plenty of things I haven't covered as well, so feel free to ask questions about the Government-in-Exile at this time.
Next: the State of Arizona, "Yuma Government"
Chapter 2.1
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter 2: The State of Arizona - Yuma Government
I step onto the dock at the port of Yuma Beach and am immediately greeted by a uniformed officer and two armed men. Sergeant William Boone ushers me into a jeep and we drive through the ramshackle streets of Arizona's first and only port city.
It's not much to look at, but I'd say we've done very well for ourselves! Granted we had to take the lead ourselves first; good strong leadership.
The Emergency Government - bunch of rat bastards, they left us to die. And well, even before that the brass took as much leeway as they could afford. Requisitioning supplies, recruiting farmers and landscapers to expand our agricultural base...the civilian government disintegrated, if I'm being honest.
[Attrition?]
Correctamundo! Suicide, some political assassinations, God bless their souls, even random accidents.
So as you can see we required a strong hand at the wheel, and well, there were a lot of soldiers and the brass had made it through alright. The police were suffering, we had our own militias to deal with, so it was easy to fold them and their command structure into the military - for the duration, we told 'em. Did the same with the National Guard, and the Border Patrol.
[Did you have any contact with the Emergency Government?]
None directly. We were issued official policy over the radio, but they knew what worked for Phoenix wouldn't work for Yuma. Or, well, what didn't work for Phoenix as the case turned out. So we were mostly left to make our own decisions, and boy did we.
No, the only people we saw from Phoenix were refugees...and later some deserters and...so on.
[Mutineers?]
Yeah, some of them were what you might call mutineers.
He is silent.
[What was the military command's policy on mutineers?]
On the one hand, we couldn't blame them for wanting out, and yeah we didn't give a fuck what happened to the Emergency Government. On the other hand, some of them had shot their officers, others were officers, and at a time when we needed strong leaders...we couldn't afford their example. So we made them an example.
[The public executions?]
We drive past a public square, one side dominated by an adobe wall pockmarked with bullet holes and dark brown stains.
Yep. We'd already taken up the practice, with criminals and captured militia leaders. The deserters were more tricky, though. See they'd all sworn an oath, but the oath didn't matter with no Constitution, so fundamentally we didn't find anything fault with their actions - they disobeyed unjust orders, was the official line. Still, we had the same concerns about them being an example.
Well, lucky for them around this time the first spray of truly violent refugees were coming down the Gila River Valley. It was all hands on deck to guard our borders.
He laughs.
They were very flexible, flimsy borders at the time, you understand. But we knew borders. Even if Mexico was gone, the fucking fence was still there.
[That's when you created the penal battalions.]
Yep. Put the former deserters in a few Forward Operating Bases, told them to shoot anyone who passed. We lost a few units. The rest served their sentence.
Anyway, one of the ex-deserters told us about how the Emergency Government was using field executions, giving officers authority to shoot their own troops for disobeying, that sort of thing. And hey, the brass liked the idea, it kept discipline at a time when it was needed, because we still didn't want any deserters of our own.
[Why would your units desert?]
The Emergency Government weren't the only ones who were making hard choices, ma'am.
Like I was saying, though, this was when shit in Phoenix was truly bad, the Emergency Government had left us and we had almost a million refugees coming down the Gila River, picking everything clean as they went. There were some actual pitched battles, swarms of refugees in trucks waving their shotguns, going up against a modern military with air support.
He shakes his head.
Some of it was still a close thing.
Eventually the big groups scattered or killed each other off, but the raiders...the raiders stuck around. And Yuma's been fighting ever since.
It's not much to look at, but I'd say we've done very well for ourselves! Granted we had to take the lead ourselves first; good strong leadership.
The Emergency Government - bunch of rat bastards, they left us to die. And well, even before that the brass took as much leeway as they could afford. Requisitioning supplies, recruiting farmers and landscapers to expand our agricultural base...the civilian government disintegrated, if I'm being honest.
[Attrition?]
Correctamundo! Suicide, some political assassinations, God bless their souls, even random accidents.
So as you can see we required a strong hand at the wheel, and well, there were a lot of soldiers and the brass had made it through alright. The police were suffering, we had our own militias to deal with, so it was easy to fold them and their command structure into the military - for the duration, we told 'em. Did the same with the National Guard, and the Border Patrol.
[Did you have any contact with the Emergency Government?]
None directly. We were issued official policy over the radio, but they knew what worked for Phoenix wouldn't work for Yuma. Or, well, what didn't work for Phoenix as the case turned out. So we were mostly left to make our own decisions, and boy did we.
No, the only people we saw from Phoenix were refugees...and later some deserters and...so on.
[Mutineers?]
Yeah, some of them were what you might call mutineers.
He is silent.
[What was the military command's policy on mutineers?]
On the one hand, we couldn't blame them for wanting out, and yeah we didn't give a fuck what happened to the Emergency Government. On the other hand, some of them had shot their officers, others were officers, and at a time when we needed strong leaders...we couldn't afford their example. So we made them an example.
[The public executions?]
We drive past a public square, one side dominated by an adobe wall pockmarked with bullet holes and dark brown stains.
Yep. We'd already taken up the practice, with criminals and captured militia leaders. The deserters were more tricky, though. See they'd all sworn an oath, but the oath didn't matter with no Constitution, so fundamentally we didn't find anything fault with their actions - they disobeyed unjust orders, was the official line. Still, we had the same concerns about them being an example.
Well, lucky for them around this time the first spray of truly violent refugees were coming down the Gila River Valley. It was all hands on deck to guard our borders.
He laughs.
They were very flexible, flimsy borders at the time, you understand. But we knew borders. Even if Mexico was gone, the fucking fence was still there.
[That's when you created the penal battalions.]
Yep. Put the former deserters in a few Forward Operating Bases, told them to shoot anyone who passed. We lost a few units. The rest served their sentence.
Anyway, one of the ex-deserters told us about how the Emergency Government was using field executions, giving officers authority to shoot their own troops for disobeying, that sort of thing. And hey, the brass liked the idea, it kept discipline at a time when it was needed, because we still didn't want any deserters of our own.
[Why would your units desert?]
The Emergency Government weren't the only ones who were making hard choices, ma'am.
Like I was saying, though, this was when shit in Phoenix was truly bad, the Emergency Government had left us and we had almost a million refugees coming down the Gila River, picking everything clean as they went. There were some actual pitched battles, swarms of refugees in trucks waving their shotguns, going up against a modern military with air support.
He shakes his head.
Some of it was still a close thing.
Eventually the big groups scattered or killed each other off, but the raiders...the raiders stuck around. And Yuma's been fighting ever since.
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Chapter 2.2
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Francisco Luna was once an "undocumented" migrant worker from Mexico, stranded in the US on a farm outside of Yuma. Today, he runs a small farm producing spinach, asparagus, and chickens. We sit on the porch of his farmhouse and drink orange juice as the sun rises into the middle of the sky. Though the house has running water and electricity, it does not have air conditioning, so cooling is provided by large soaked blankets hanging along the eaves of the porch.
This interview has been translated from Francisco's native Spanish.
The farms were nationalized. Oh, some of the owners complained, a few even put up fights, but...a lot of people were being rounded up in those days. I know that up north things were sketchier, with armed divisions carrying out cattle raids before the refugees could get to them, but in the "heartland" of what Yuma controls today, they were dividing things up.
After the first harvest, they diversified from "monoculture", using land to produce one kind of crop. This land used to just produce spinach.
[Who ran the farms?]
Government overseers, which turned out to be military engineers and the like. The military was the government at the time.
[Did they own the farms?]
No no, the government owned the land, but overseers could be swapped around as needed.
[So who worked the land?]
He points at himself and laughs.
No joke though, a lot of migrant workers got a leg up in those days. There was this big attempt to get people out of the cities, mainly into new farming land across or down the river, and they wanted people who knew farming to teach them how to work the land, maybe even be new overseers if they could speak English well enough. Used to be we were in low demand because we only knew labor, now it was the accountants and lawyers in low demand.
[Did you face difficulties?]
Oh, of course. Communication barriers, and prejudice, but in those days everything was getting smoothed over by the simple fear of hunger. That first harvest had saved everyone alright, but if there had been just a few missed meals...who knows? There was a lot of deaths the first winter too, from diseases caused by poor diets, medication running out, that sort of thing.
And of course, across the river, where there used to be more people, more land, more roads, it was just...empty desert. Like nobody had ever lived there.
Occasionally something went really wrong and we had to call in the military police. They were everywhere in those days, sniffing out rebels. The city had been pacified, but a few bandits lurked in the countryside, melting into the wasteland.
And well...it was work. Harder than any other work I'd done before, but it kept the mind busy. Most of the things happening were in the background, we didn't notice until after the fact.
[Like what?]
The new code of laws, the replacement of the courts with the military tribunals, the construction of the munitions factories, so on and so on. They even brought back radio, but the military owned the station too.
The chaplaincy program...that was harder to swallow.
[Can you explain?]
They made every ordained religious figure, Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise, into a chaplain in the military. On the surface it didn't matter much, everyone was getting ranks in those days, and they'd all been pulling their weight with the rest of us, those who could and were still alive...but to have your Catholic priest answering to a military officer instead of the Holy Father in Rome was...
That was different. Some people still don't like it, even after the, er, bombings and the crackdowns.
[Do you miss your old country?]
Probably not as much as the Americans miss theirs.
He laughs bitterly.
Well, I can't say that for sure. I don't think about Mexico a lot these days. And my wife was from Nebraska, she was just here on the military base. We met through one of the work programs. So it goes.
[Work programs?]
They couldn't have the soldiers out on the front lines forever. They wanted to cycle them back into civilian life, so some of them were moved to work in the factories, some were moved to the farms. And the same way, they started preparing everyone else to be part of the military. Even if you were making bullets and guns they wanted you in the system somewhere, I guess.
I even did my mandatory tour of duty, even if it was just a guard post at a checkpoint upriver.
Like I said, everyone was getting ranks in those days.
[Including you?]
Including me.
He waves at the farmland.
It's not really "my" land, the military - government - still owns all of it, I just work it for them. The manager. But it's hard not to think of it as my land. I worked hard for it, I'm proud of it.
Lots of people were proud of their ranks. I can be proud of my life here.
This interview has been translated from Francisco's native Spanish.
The farms were nationalized. Oh, some of the owners complained, a few even put up fights, but...a lot of people were being rounded up in those days. I know that up north things were sketchier, with armed divisions carrying out cattle raids before the refugees could get to them, but in the "heartland" of what Yuma controls today, they were dividing things up.
After the first harvest, they diversified from "monoculture", using land to produce one kind of crop. This land used to just produce spinach.
[Who ran the farms?]
Government overseers, which turned out to be military engineers and the like. The military was the government at the time.
[Did they own the farms?]
No no, the government owned the land, but overseers could be swapped around as needed.
[So who worked the land?]
He points at himself and laughs.
No joke though, a lot of migrant workers got a leg up in those days. There was this big attempt to get people out of the cities, mainly into new farming land across or down the river, and they wanted people who knew farming to teach them how to work the land, maybe even be new overseers if they could speak English well enough. Used to be we were in low demand because we only knew labor, now it was the accountants and lawyers in low demand.
[Did you face difficulties?]
Oh, of course. Communication barriers, and prejudice, but in those days everything was getting smoothed over by the simple fear of hunger. That first harvest had saved everyone alright, but if there had been just a few missed meals...who knows? There was a lot of deaths the first winter too, from diseases caused by poor diets, medication running out, that sort of thing.
And of course, across the river, where there used to be more people, more land, more roads, it was just...empty desert. Like nobody had ever lived there.
Occasionally something went really wrong and we had to call in the military police. They were everywhere in those days, sniffing out rebels. The city had been pacified, but a few bandits lurked in the countryside, melting into the wasteland.
And well...it was work. Harder than any other work I'd done before, but it kept the mind busy. Most of the things happening were in the background, we didn't notice until after the fact.
[Like what?]
The new code of laws, the replacement of the courts with the military tribunals, the construction of the munitions factories, so on and so on. They even brought back radio, but the military owned the station too.
The chaplaincy program...that was harder to swallow.
[Can you explain?]
They made every ordained religious figure, Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise, into a chaplain in the military. On the surface it didn't matter much, everyone was getting ranks in those days, and they'd all been pulling their weight with the rest of us, those who could and were still alive...but to have your Catholic priest answering to a military officer instead of the Holy Father in Rome was...
That was different. Some people still don't like it, even after the, er, bombings and the crackdowns.
[Do you miss your old country?]
Probably not as much as the Americans miss theirs.
He laughs bitterly.
Well, I can't say that for sure. I don't think about Mexico a lot these days. And my wife was from Nebraska, she was just here on the military base. We met through one of the work programs. So it goes.
[Work programs?]
They couldn't have the soldiers out on the front lines forever. They wanted to cycle them back into civilian life, so some of them were moved to work in the factories, some were moved to the farms. And the same way, they started preparing everyone else to be part of the military. Even if you were making bullets and guns they wanted you in the system somewhere, I guess.
I even did my mandatory tour of duty, even if it was just a guard post at a checkpoint upriver.
Like I said, everyone was getting ranks in those days.
[Including you?]
Including me.
He waves at the farmland.
It's not really "my" land, the military - government - still owns all of it, I just work it for them. The manager. But it's hard not to think of it as my land. I worked hard for it, I'm proud of it.
Lots of people were proud of their ranks. I can be proud of my life here.
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Chapter 2.3
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Monica Heslin is one of the few private business owners in Yuma. The owner of a tailor's, the demand for her products has grown with every passing year.
I couldn't tell you how many private businesses vanished overnight. It'd be easier to list all the ones that survived! But I'll try my best.
For starters, there were the businesses that nobody needed anymore, in the first few days they were shuttered and all their employees went off to wherever they went. The farms, the military, dead...
Those were your insurance adjusters, accountants, all the white collar office jobs, gone. Then you had most retailers seized by the military, as a method to control food supplies, and none of those ever came back. The military still controls the food, which...
She rolls her eyes.
Look, the government owns the land, except for the private plots for managers and laborers to grow supplementary crops - I know a lot of them go in for spices, others just use it to grow whatever staple crops they have, but to sell on the side. The point it, the majority of foodstuffs come from the government, who sell it back to the citizens using the money they print. Not to mention most of them get their pay for the government anyway, on farms or in factories. You can imagine how I feel about all of that.
[Sorry, could you tell me more about which businesses survived?]
Right, sorry. The point is, most businesses didn't last. Leaving aside the circumstances, in a lot of cases ownership was...highly in question. Stock went away in a puff of smoke, there were too many cases where owners didn't survive or weren't in the state, franchises, et cetera. In a few cases, it was finder's keepers, and any legal battles were swept under the rug by the military tribunals.
A few businesses were lucky, like mine. They made consumer goods that weren't immediately necessary for survival and so weren't nationalized, they had sole or joint ownership, and they survived. I had to shutter my workshop for a while, but by the time I was ready to open up again, they were printing money again.
Maybe that was their mistake.
She laughs.
[Why was that their mistake?]
People need a lot more than food. They needed shoes, cookware...clothing. And a lot of them could have made due with salvage, or recycling old stuff, or with the military surplus, which really meant whatever was left in the warehouses.
But, once people had money they could afford to buy new. Which meant for a brief time, business was booming. And the military needed uniforms, both dress and combat fatigues.
She frowns.
I buy my textiles from the government. Cotton, a little wool. Like I said, they need uniforms, so they signed a contract with me.
And by that point I was able to expand my business, hire a lot of new workers, and that's where the trouble really began.
Stock wasn't...well, I doubt it will be back for a long time. Which means I'm still the sole owner of this company.
There've been quite a few legal battles before the courts - sorry, military tribunals - about the laws concerning private enterprise. The biggest decision they made was early on, stating that the laws of the old state government were defunct, which left pretty much everything up in the air for a while.
It's just the military law code now, and it has precious little to say on private enterprise. There's always the argument that the land and the factories are owned by the state, so why not the shops? But they've let us run our own affairs for too long to go back on that.
In the meanwhile, workers have never been cheaper. Labor laws went out with the rest when the government brought in the new law codes, and they had no intention of bringing them back - sure, we're not talking like, hellhole working conditions, but production stops for no man, and the military always needs more bullets, more guns, more parts for trucks...
There were a few attempts at getting better working conditions. A few.
The thing about the factory workers being members of the military is that the protests could be classes as refusal to obey orders. The organizers? Against the wall like any other mutineers. So it goes.
She pauses to smooth her dress.
I walk a fine line. On the one hand, I don't want my workers to get so upset that they start organizing either. One the other, I provide a vital service to the government, and as I said, production stops for no man. On the third hand, they do want my business. Such a vital part of the war effort in the hands of the private sector? They don't like private citizens getting ideas.
She smiles at me.
But now that I can buy textiles from our friends over in Pacific Redoubt, maybe I won't need to rely on the military government so much from now on, no? After trade picks up a little more, of course. That's just good for business, dear.
I couldn't tell you how many private businesses vanished overnight. It'd be easier to list all the ones that survived! But I'll try my best.
For starters, there were the businesses that nobody needed anymore, in the first few days they were shuttered and all their employees went off to wherever they went. The farms, the military, dead...
Those were your insurance adjusters, accountants, all the white collar office jobs, gone. Then you had most retailers seized by the military, as a method to control food supplies, and none of those ever came back. The military still controls the food, which...
She rolls her eyes.
Look, the government owns the land, except for the private plots for managers and laborers to grow supplementary crops - I know a lot of them go in for spices, others just use it to grow whatever staple crops they have, but to sell on the side. The point it, the majority of foodstuffs come from the government, who sell it back to the citizens using the money they print. Not to mention most of them get their pay for the government anyway, on farms or in factories. You can imagine how I feel about all of that.
[Sorry, could you tell me more about which businesses survived?]
Right, sorry. The point is, most businesses didn't last. Leaving aside the circumstances, in a lot of cases ownership was...highly in question. Stock went away in a puff of smoke, there were too many cases where owners didn't survive or weren't in the state, franchises, et cetera. In a few cases, it was finder's keepers, and any legal battles were swept under the rug by the military tribunals.
A few businesses were lucky, like mine. They made consumer goods that weren't immediately necessary for survival and so weren't nationalized, they had sole or joint ownership, and they survived. I had to shutter my workshop for a while, but by the time I was ready to open up again, they were printing money again.
Maybe that was their mistake.
She laughs.
[Why was that their mistake?]
People need a lot more than food. They needed shoes, cookware...clothing. And a lot of them could have made due with salvage, or recycling old stuff, or with the military surplus, which really meant whatever was left in the warehouses.
But, once people had money they could afford to buy new. Which meant for a brief time, business was booming. And the military needed uniforms, both dress and combat fatigues.
She frowns.
I buy my textiles from the government. Cotton, a little wool. Like I said, they need uniforms, so they signed a contract with me.
And by that point I was able to expand my business, hire a lot of new workers, and that's where the trouble really began.
Stock wasn't...well, I doubt it will be back for a long time. Which means I'm still the sole owner of this company.
There've been quite a few legal battles before the courts - sorry, military tribunals - about the laws concerning private enterprise. The biggest decision they made was early on, stating that the laws of the old state government were defunct, which left pretty much everything up in the air for a while.
It's just the military law code now, and it has precious little to say on private enterprise. There's always the argument that the land and the factories are owned by the state, so why not the shops? But they've let us run our own affairs for too long to go back on that.
In the meanwhile, workers have never been cheaper. Labor laws went out with the rest when the government brought in the new law codes, and they had no intention of bringing them back - sure, we're not talking like, hellhole working conditions, but production stops for no man, and the military always needs more bullets, more guns, more parts for trucks...
There were a few attempts at getting better working conditions. A few.
The thing about the factory workers being members of the military is that the protests could be classes as refusal to obey orders. The organizers? Against the wall like any other mutineers. So it goes.
She pauses to smooth her dress.
I walk a fine line. On the one hand, I don't want my workers to get so upset that they start organizing either. One the other, I provide a vital service to the government, and as I said, production stops for no man. On the third hand, they do want my business. Such a vital part of the war effort in the hands of the private sector? They don't like private citizens getting ideas.
She smiles at me.
But now that I can buy textiles from our friends over in Pacific Redoubt, maybe I won't need to rely on the military government so much from now on, no? After trade picks up a little more, of course. That's just good for business, dear.
Chapter 2.4
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Forward Operating Base Foxtrot marks the northern limit of Yuma's control. I stand on the banks of the Colorado River while my river barge is loaded and talk to Lieutenant-Colonel Joaquin "Jack" Fiddler.
See the idea isn't so much to trade, seein' as we don't have much that they want. Maybe in a few years, when we have a chance to diversify. What we really want to do is establish diplomatic channels, maybe see about working out a treaty over the ruins of Lake Havasu City.
[Those are valuable?]
Boy are they! Let alone the raw materials that are still waiting to be mined, the rebar and concrete and stone and tiles, the pipes and wires - well, a lot of it's been damaged by rain, wind, and fire, but there's a good chunk of it still worth something. And then there's everything that the scavengers haven't picked over, some real valuables in those ruins.
Leaving aside the stuff we can sell on the open market, there's guns, tools, stuff we can use ourselves.
We'd also really like to see if that dam's still in working order, get a good source of water, even if the land isn't so good for growing.
[Are there many scavengers?]
Well, yes and no. Lots of them out of Bullhead City, but they're more salvage teams, working private contracts to bring stuff back. Then you have the squatters. See Havasu City collapsed rather messily, the mayor couldn't organize quickly enough and food riots spiraled out of control. Still a lot of sun-bleached bones lying around, too...
Anyway, some people from our side, or people from their side, wound up in the ruins between us, whether they were criminals making a run for it, or those who just didn't want to follow the rules and thought they'd set up stakes somewhere else. Well, we'll be dealing with them soon enough, if this treaty goes through.
You've also got a few hardass survivors from when the community collapsed, the salvage teams say there's a lot of infighting over slices of good real estate. Heh.
[Is it dangerous?]
Not like Phoenix further east, or even the raider-controlled territories between here and there. Though if you're not careful, it can be as fatal as any other combat environment. Well, you'll be passing through on a river barge, won't even take you a day, so as long as your guards stay sharp you should make it in one piece.
[How does the leadership feel about Bullhead City?]
Ah, the Free City of Bullhead. They fancy themselves the frontier town born again, and maybe they are. You'll be able to ask them all about their setup when you get there, but all you need to know is that the top brass think they're anarchic sons-of-bitches, but until they become a problem we won't make them a problem. And so long as they cooperate on salvage and keeping the raiders at bay, they're less than a problem.
[They don't consider Bullhead City a rebellious government?]
If you can call it that.
He snorts.
No, Yuma considers itself a successor state to the state of Arizona, but we're not like the legitimists who think they're the only real government - and even they do business with us on the side. There are a few in the brass who might be itching to bring them back into the fold, but we have far, far bigger fish to fry. Raiders, and the big corpse city, Phoenix.
[So the raiders are still a danger?]
I wouldn't say a danger. They come to Lake Havasu every now and then for water and to pick through the ruins, but only the weaker ones - the big prize is Phoenix, you can get anything there, they say, if you look hard enough. Oh, and of course they have back-and-forth raids, on Bullhead's outskirts, the small farming villages and outposts, and on our forward bases, but we give 'em as good as we get with retaliatory, er, expeditions.
A short siren blares from the bases' watchtower, and for a second LTC Fiddler freezes. Then, he glances at the tower, relaxes, and gives me a smile.
Well, I'll be damned, today's your lucky day. Looks like some raiders doing a scouting run. Wanna see?
We climb the tower, and take turns peering through a pair of binoculars at a distant column of dust. Flashes of metal and bright paint can be seen through the haze. Below us, the garrison takes up defensive positions as a precaution. LTC Fiddler mutters under his breath as he takes a long look.
No, doesn't look like Sand Devils, or the Children of the Phoenix. Too few of 'em. Might be the Sun Brotherhood, I'm seeing lots of flame decals.
He hands the binoculars back to me.
Every raider band has their own style. They paint and decorate their war rigs differently, makes it easy for us to identify them.
They'll slink off into the desert, it's just the game of cat-and-mouse we play. We can't send out foot patrols because they'll jump us, and motorized patrols are getting more expensive. Maybe they'll launch a raid in the next few days, maybe they'll decide it isn't worth it.
Until then, we watch and wait.
The scouting party turns and grows smaller at it vanishes into the distance. Across the sand, rocks, and broken scrub comes the blaring of rock music.
***
AN: And there's Yuma, the army with a country. Again, if you have any questions about this chapter's featured nation, feel free to ask them now.
If not, then I'll see you in the next chapter: Bullhead Free City
See the idea isn't so much to trade, seein' as we don't have much that they want. Maybe in a few years, when we have a chance to diversify. What we really want to do is establish diplomatic channels, maybe see about working out a treaty over the ruins of Lake Havasu City.
[Those are valuable?]
Boy are they! Let alone the raw materials that are still waiting to be mined, the rebar and concrete and stone and tiles, the pipes and wires - well, a lot of it's been damaged by rain, wind, and fire, but there's a good chunk of it still worth something. And then there's everything that the scavengers haven't picked over, some real valuables in those ruins.
Leaving aside the stuff we can sell on the open market, there's guns, tools, stuff we can use ourselves.
We'd also really like to see if that dam's still in working order, get a good source of water, even if the land isn't so good for growing.
[Are there many scavengers?]
Well, yes and no. Lots of them out of Bullhead City, but they're more salvage teams, working private contracts to bring stuff back. Then you have the squatters. See Havasu City collapsed rather messily, the mayor couldn't organize quickly enough and food riots spiraled out of control. Still a lot of sun-bleached bones lying around, too...
Anyway, some people from our side, or people from their side, wound up in the ruins between us, whether they were criminals making a run for it, or those who just didn't want to follow the rules and thought they'd set up stakes somewhere else. Well, we'll be dealing with them soon enough, if this treaty goes through.
You've also got a few hardass survivors from when the community collapsed, the salvage teams say there's a lot of infighting over slices of good real estate. Heh.
[Is it dangerous?]
Not like Phoenix further east, or even the raider-controlled territories between here and there. Though if you're not careful, it can be as fatal as any other combat environment. Well, you'll be passing through on a river barge, won't even take you a day, so as long as your guards stay sharp you should make it in one piece.
[How does the leadership feel about Bullhead City?]
Ah, the Free City of Bullhead. They fancy themselves the frontier town born again, and maybe they are. You'll be able to ask them all about their setup when you get there, but all you need to know is that the top brass think they're anarchic sons-of-bitches, but until they become a problem we won't make them a problem. And so long as they cooperate on salvage and keeping the raiders at bay, they're less than a problem.
[They don't consider Bullhead City a rebellious government?]
If you can call it that.
He snorts.
No, Yuma considers itself a successor state to the state of Arizona, but we're not like the legitimists who think they're the only real government - and even they do business with us on the side. There are a few in the brass who might be itching to bring them back into the fold, but we have far, far bigger fish to fry. Raiders, and the big corpse city, Phoenix.
[So the raiders are still a danger?]
I wouldn't say a danger. They come to Lake Havasu every now and then for water and to pick through the ruins, but only the weaker ones - the big prize is Phoenix, you can get anything there, they say, if you look hard enough. Oh, and of course they have back-and-forth raids, on Bullhead's outskirts, the small farming villages and outposts, and on our forward bases, but we give 'em as good as we get with retaliatory, er, expeditions.
A short siren blares from the bases' watchtower, and for a second LTC Fiddler freezes. Then, he glances at the tower, relaxes, and gives me a smile.
Well, I'll be damned, today's your lucky day. Looks like some raiders doing a scouting run. Wanna see?
We climb the tower, and take turns peering through a pair of binoculars at a distant column of dust. Flashes of metal and bright paint can be seen through the haze. Below us, the garrison takes up defensive positions as a precaution. LTC Fiddler mutters under his breath as he takes a long look.
No, doesn't look like Sand Devils, or the Children of the Phoenix. Too few of 'em. Might be the Sun Brotherhood, I'm seeing lots of flame decals.
He hands the binoculars back to me.
Every raider band has their own style. They paint and decorate their war rigs differently, makes it easy for us to identify them.
They'll slink off into the desert, it's just the game of cat-and-mouse we play. We can't send out foot patrols because they'll jump us, and motorized patrols are getting more expensive. Maybe they'll launch a raid in the next few days, maybe they'll decide it isn't worth it.
Until then, we watch and wait.
The scouting party turns and grows smaller at it vanishes into the distance. Across the sand, rocks, and broken scrub comes the blaring of rock music.
***
AN: And there's Yuma, the army with a country. Again, if you have any questions about this chapter's featured nation, feel free to ask them now.
If not, then I'll see you in the next chapter: Bullhead Free City
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Chapter 3.1
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter 3: Free City of Bullhead
Bullhead City is rowdy. Chris Arambula leads me on a winding path through an open-air market that was once a parking lot. Merchants hawk their wares, everything from food, to salvage, to drugs that would have been illegal in the Old World. My guide asks me to call him Chris rather than by his title.
Please, Doctor Arambula was my father.
I was a refugee from Phoenix. Escaped with a family of five on day ten. We drove for hours across empty desert, just barely limped in to Bullhead City.
A lot of the towns between here and Phoenix are just...gone now. They weren't in places with arable land or a good water supply, and the refugees and raiders did for the rest. Kingman held out for a few months, but then they went under like Lake Havasu City and we got another spray of refugees. Probably because they soaked up a big wave out of Phoenix, but them and the geography kept us from getting any big mobs. Those that made it went through a screening process.
So that's probably why Bullhead City made it, isolation and being judicious with who they let in.
[Why was your family allowed in?]
My dad was a doctor, and my older sister was training to be a nurse. Doctor Arambula died of the plague in the winter of year two, that was harsh. I'm not a doctor, don't consider myself one, I just watched him do the operations. My sister's the senior partner in the business, too, she had actual training...
[The plague?]
Started in Phoenix. All the breakdown of sanitation and the dead bodies and everything...some really fucking nasty diseases were coming out of the corpse city, even with the screening we didn't know what to look for. So in winter of year two there was an outbreak of bubonic plague in Bullhead City...my dad wasn't so lucky, things were kind of rushed because of people running out of medications, old chronic illnesses starting to bite with the malnutrition, and we were still trying to work out new sanitation procedures.
Didn't work.
Anyway, sis and I run the business now. I was just in high school at the beginning, but it's been five years and while I don't think I'll ever be as good as an Old World doctor we keep our patients alive and that's what we're for.
[How do your patients pay for their treatment?]
Chris pauses to purchase a pound of opium from a vendor.
Money, if they have it, barter if they can afford it. If not, they go into debt to the clinic.
[How do people pay off their debt?]
Through money or barter over time, mostly. A few people can't though, so we have to work things out. I know there are businesses who will have you work off your debt, there's a joke that the bar on main offers you two hours for a pint. Heh. But we run a clinic, not really a lot of dishes to wash, so I just sell the debt.
[How do you sell debt?]
It's just some paperwork at the courthouse. Debt is the only business that's regulated - tightly, at least - in Bullhead City.
[Can you tell me more about debt buying?]
Sure. Basically if you can't pay in money or goods, you sign a piece of paper, an agreement that you are in debt to the company. Mostly you can either make installments to pay it off, or do labor, but some places only offer one or the other. I'd say one in five people in Bullhead City have owed debt at some point, one in ten at any given time. Then the debt can be bought and sold, traded.
[Is this system abused?]
He stops to light a cigarette. It's unclear what's in it.
Shit, is it. Some people charge outrageous rates, there's debt fraud...there've been a few cases of basically debt slavery, but those were, uh, sorted. It's hard, building a new industry from scratch.
There's a big push for all sorts of regulations on debt buying and all that. Some of 'em are common sense, like establishing price ceilings or whatever you call 'em, some are like, religious stuff. It's a fight either way, to get the city council to do anything.
[Religious?]
Something about the Hebrews forgiving all debt every seven years. You can hear it in the churches.
Personally I'll be voting for debt buyer's licenses. I try and be good about who I sell my debt to, but you can't fucking tell with these people.
[You mentioned debt slavery earlier?]
Yeah, that was...a kind of national embarrassment. We fixed it.
[How?]
He crushes out his cigarette.
You're going to hear the story of how we became a free city when you meet the mayor, but let's say that you'll find out pretty quick that when certain folks around here get a bit too big for their britches, the locals tend to take things into their own hands.
It's a rough city. You're free to do what you want in Bullhead, and other people are free to kick your fucking head in if they don't like it.
Please, Doctor Arambula was my father.
I was a refugee from Phoenix. Escaped with a family of five on day ten. We drove for hours across empty desert, just barely limped in to Bullhead City.
A lot of the towns between here and Phoenix are just...gone now. They weren't in places with arable land or a good water supply, and the refugees and raiders did for the rest. Kingman held out for a few months, but then they went under like Lake Havasu City and we got another spray of refugees. Probably because they soaked up a big wave out of Phoenix, but them and the geography kept us from getting any big mobs. Those that made it went through a screening process.
So that's probably why Bullhead City made it, isolation and being judicious with who they let in.
[Why was your family allowed in?]
My dad was a doctor, and my older sister was training to be a nurse. Doctor Arambula died of the plague in the winter of year two, that was harsh. I'm not a doctor, don't consider myself one, I just watched him do the operations. My sister's the senior partner in the business, too, she had actual training...
[The plague?]
Started in Phoenix. All the breakdown of sanitation and the dead bodies and everything...some really fucking nasty diseases were coming out of the corpse city, even with the screening we didn't know what to look for. So in winter of year two there was an outbreak of bubonic plague in Bullhead City...my dad wasn't so lucky, things were kind of rushed because of people running out of medications, old chronic illnesses starting to bite with the malnutrition, and we were still trying to work out new sanitation procedures.
Didn't work.
Anyway, sis and I run the business now. I was just in high school at the beginning, but it's been five years and while I don't think I'll ever be as good as an Old World doctor we keep our patients alive and that's what we're for.
[How do your patients pay for their treatment?]
Chris pauses to purchase a pound of opium from a vendor.
Money, if they have it, barter if they can afford it. If not, they go into debt to the clinic.
[How do people pay off their debt?]
Through money or barter over time, mostly. A few people can't though, so we have to work things out. I know there are businesses who will have you work off your debt, there's a joke that the bar on main offers you two hours for a pint. Heh. But we run a clinic, not really a lot of dishes to wash, so I just sell the debt.
[How do you sell debt?]
It's just some paperwork at the courthouse. Debt is the only business that's regulated - tightly, at least - in Bullhead City.
[Can you tell me more about debt buying?]
Sure. Basically if you can't pay in money or goods, you sign a piece of paper, an agreement that you are in debt to the company. Mostly you can either make installments to pay it off, or do labor, but some places only offer one or the other. I'd say one in five people in Bullhead City have owed debt at some point, one in ten at any given time. Then the debt can be bought and sold, traded.
[Is this system abused?]
He stops to light a cigarette. It's unclear what's in it.
Shit, is it. Some people charge outrageous rates, there's debt fraud...there've been a few cases of basically debt slavery, but those were, uh, sorted. It's hard, building a new industry from scratch.
There's a big push for all sorts of regulations on debt buying and all that. Some of 'em are common sense, like establishing price ceilings or whatever you call 'em, some are like, religious stuff. It's a fight either way, to get the city council to do anything.
[Religious?]
Something about the Hebrews forgiving all debt every seven years. You can hear it in the churches.
Personally I'll be voting for debt buyer's licenses. I try and be good about who I sell my debt to, but you can't fucking tell with these people.
[You mentioned debt slavery earlier?]
Yeah, that was...a kind of national embarrassment. We fixed it.
[How?]
He crushes out his cigarette.
You're going to hear the story of how we became a free city when you meet the mayor, but let's say that you'll find out pretty quick that when certain folks around here get a bit too big for their britches, the locals tend to take things into their own hands.
It's a rough city. You're free to do what you want in Bullhead, and other people are free to kick your fucking head in if they don't like it.
Chapter 3.2
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I enter the office of the Mayor of Bullhead City. The man in question, Shan Lewis, turns away from the window where he had been observing a protest of city militiamen demanding higher pay. He takes a seat and gives me a disarming smile.
Hope they didn't give you any trouble coming in, we'll negotiate something eventually.
I know Yuma must have painted us as un unruly mob, and I suppose compared to their government where everything's ordered down to the bootlaces we must seem like it for sure, but really everything here has its own sense to it.
I suppose it makes sense, too, considering how we got here. You see, in those first few weeks Bullhead City was in a good position. Isolated, with a fair stretch of arable land and an easy source of clean water in the Colorado River. The only hitch was, those farms were Fort Mojave Tribal Land, or were immediately adjacent.
Well, as it happened things were still getting sorted in those days, we had our issues with attrition same as any other place that came through the dying times, and law enforcement was...frayed.
And so, when a mob of people decided to do something, the government wasn't quick to put a road block in their way. Sometimes that worked, cause it meant people were quick to organize themselves and their neighbors, but on the other hand...
A lot of people - a certain type of people - decided they didn't want to find a way to trade goods from the city for food from the countryside. They thought it best if they could cut out the middle man.
[What type of people?]
He clears his throat.
Well, without sugarcoating it - folks who thought that if times were going to be hard and sacrifices were going to be made, it should be the Indians and Mexican migrants working the farms that had to be making the sacrifices and not good, hardworking white folks.
Understand, every part of Arizona had to deal with these types. I understand part of the infighting that brought down Phoenix was caused by far-right militias. But for whatever reason, in Bullhead City they were bolder and badder than in, say, Flagstaff or Yuma - if certainly not more numerous!
So first wind we caught of it was a dark evening, when a whole lot of torches suddenly sprang up on the main streets of the city. Well, that wasn't too strange, electricity was heavily rationed in those days and still is, but these torchlights gathered into clusters, then bigger mobs, until there was a stream of them heading south of the city towards the Reservation. There couldn't have been more than two hundred of them, but for what they were facing, that was a lot.
From all accounts they were quite the sight. Most on foot but a few in pickup trucks packed to the gills. Klansmen in pointy hoods to Confederate diehards to, shame to say it, a few law enforcement officers, and making no attempt to hide it. Scum of the Earth, and armed for bear. Luckily, they decided it would be easy, so they weren't too worried about secrecy. In their minds, they'd roll in during the dead of night, scatter the filthy lessers, take over the farms, set themselves up as plantation lords, and the rest of us would be serfs.
He flashes a feral grin.
As it happened, quite a few folks were opposed to that idea. Strongly opposed.
The Battle of Fort Mojave lasted for three hours. First shots were fired by tribal police, they'd set up a barricade when they got wind of the mob. A lot of the mob scattered, they were expecting to drag farmers from their beds, not trade shots with lawmen, and a lot had trouble shooting because of the way the mob was strung out along the road.
Still, some of them shot back.
He sighs deeply.
Tribal police held the line until reinforcements showed up. They were brave men, and most of them...they gave their lives. We raised a monument on the spot of the battle. Even when they rammed one of their vehicles into the barricade...
He gets a momentary far-off look in his eyes.
Well, when reinforcements showed up...it was just a farmer's militia of sorts but it was enough to turn the tide. And we had help from the city too, don't you forget it. Like I said, there were strong disagreements.
We rounded up what was left of the mob and...well, justice was served. No cops, no courts, no jails. Nobody was in the mood for those.
By the time day had dawned, the citizens hadn't dispersed, either. We'd marched right into the center of the city and camped outside the town hall. Things kind of spiraled but...no, I don't think anyone was in the mood to stop and think.
The constitution for the Free City of Bullhead was drafted that day, and a new mayor was put into place.
He reaches down unconsciously to brush the medal pinned to his jacket.
[What did the new constitution entail?]
A lot of things. Rights and liberties you can ask any citizen about, but you're probably wondering about the government. I'll be honest, we're rather hamstrung. It can be frustrating sometimes, but there are things you have to take in stride. Essentially, the city government has very little executive power. First everything has to go through the city council, then it has to be signed off on by the tribal council - which also has overlapping seats on the city council, mind - and then it goes to a plebiscite. And there's always a balancing act to be had, between merchants and salvage companies and farmers and unions and the mob...
But it works. We're establishing solid ties between Flagstaff and Yuma, there's more wealth the more you look, and if there's poverty the tradeoff is that nobody's forced to work like in Yuma or...those bastard legitimists in Cali.
And let me tell you this. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to try to pull something like Fort Mojave again. You can count on that.
Someone outside blows a shrill whistle. Mayor Lewis sighs and turns to face the windows.
Oh, and we'll get that sorted out too, eventually. Let them blow off some steam for a while, then I'll open negotiations with the officers.
[Are you worried about attacks by raiders?]
He looks back at me.
Hmm? Oh, no. For one, we have the light horse - they're the successor to the tribal police. They patrol the border and check on outlying farms, outposts, and settlements. Keep the roads clean too. We founded them at the same time as the new government was being founded, to root out anyone left who might've been in the mob.
[How did they do that?]
Lot of pointed questions, lots of knocking down doors. Quite a few people, er, mysteriously left town in those days, dunno where they went and nobody cares.
Anyway, raiders are an issue, but if a serious attack comes, you better believe the city militia will get itself together right quick.
He winks at me and folds his hands on his desk.
We may be a contentious city, but these days? We stick up for each other.
Hope they didn't give you any trouble coming in, we'll negotiate something eventually.
I know Yuma must have painted us as un unruly mob, and I suppose compared to their government where everything's ordered down to the bootlaces we must seem like it for sure, but really everything here has its own sense to it.
I suppose it makes sense, too, considering how we got here. You see, in those first few weeks Bullhead City was in a good position. Isolated, with a fair stretch of arable land and an easy source of clean water in the Colorado River. The only hitch was, those farms were Fort Mojave Tribal Land, or were immediately adjacent.
Well, as it happened things were still getting sorted in those days, we had our issues with attrition same as any other place that came through the dying times, and law enforcement was...frayed.
And so, when a mob of people decided to do something, the government wasn't quick to put a road block in their way. Sometimes that worked, cause it meant people were quick to organize themselves and their neighbors, but on the other hand...
A lot of people - a certain type of people - decided they didn't want to find a way to trade goods from the city for food from the countryside. They thought it best if they could cut out the middle man.
[What type of people?]
He clears his throat.
Well, without sugarcoating it - folks who thought that if times were going to be hard and sacrifices were going to be made, it should be the Indians and Mexican migrants working the farms that had to be making the sacrifices and not good, hardworking white folks.
Understand, every part of Arizona had to deal with these types. I understand part of the infighting that brought down Phoenix was caused by far-right militias. But for whatever reason, in Bullhead City they were bolder and badder than in, say, Flagstaff or Yuma - if certainly not more numerous!
So first wind we caught of it was a dark evening, when a whole lot of torches suddenly sprang up on the main streets of the city. Well, that wasn't too strange, electricity was heavily rationed in those days and still is, but these torchlights gathered into clusters, then bigger mobs, until there was a stream of them heading south of the city towards the Reservation. There couldn't have been more than two hundred of them, but for what they were facing, that was a lot.
From all accounts they were quite the sight. Most on foot but a few in pickup trucks packed to the gills. Klansmen in pointy hoods to Confederate diehards to, shame to say it, a few law enforcement officers, and making no attempt to hide it. Scum of the Earth, and armed for bear. Luckily, they decided it would be easy, so they weren't too worried about secrecy. In their minds, they'd roll in during the dead of night, scatter the filthy lessers, take over the farms, set themselves up as plantation lords, and the rest of us would be serfs.
He flashes a feral grin.
As it happened, quite a few folks were opposed to that idea. Strongly opposed.
The Battle of Fort Mojave lasted for three hours. First shots were fired by tribal police, they'd set up a barricade when they got wind of the mob. A lot of the mob scattered, they were expecting to drag farmers from their beds, not trade shots with lawmen, and a lot had trouble shooting because of the way the mob was strung out along the road.
Still, some of them shot back.
He sighs deeply.
Tribal police held the line until reinforcements showed up. They were brave men, and most of them...they gave their lives. We raised a monument on the spot of the battle. Even when they rammed one of their vehicles into the barricade...
He gets a momentary far-off look in his eyes.
Well, when reinforcements showed up...it was just a farmer's militia of sorts but it was enough to turn the tide. And we had help from the city too, don't you forget it. Like I said, there were strong disagreements.
We rounded up what was left of the mob and...well, justice was served. No cops, no courts, no jails. Nobody was in the mood for those.
By the time day had dawned, the citizens hadn't dispersed, either. We'd marched right into the center of the city and camped outside the town hall. Things kind of spiraled but...no, I don't think anyone was in the mood to stop and think.
The constitution for the Free City of Bullhead was drafted that day, and a new mayor was put into place.
He reaches down unconsciously to brush the medal pinned to his jacket.
[What did the new constitution entail?]
A lot of things. Rights and liberties you can ask any citizen about, but you're probably wondering about the government. I'll be honest, we're rather hamstrung. It can be frustrating sometimes, but there are things you have to take in stride. Essentially, the city government has very little executive power. First everything has to go through the city council, then it has to be signed off on by the tribal council - which also has overlapping seats on the city council, mind - and then it goes to a plebiscite. And there's always a balancing act to be had, between merchants and salvage companies and farmers and unions and the mob...
But it works. We're establishing solid ties between Flagstaff and Yuma, there's more wealth the more you look, and if there's poverty the tradeoff is that nobody's forced to work like in Yuma or...those bastard legitimists in Cali.
And let me tell you this. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to try to pull something like Fort Mojave again. You can count on that.
Someone outside blows a shrill whistle. Mayor Lewis sighs and turns to face the windows.
Oh, and we'll get that sorted out too, eventually. Let them blow off some steam for a while, then I'll open negotiations with the officers.
[Are you worried about attacks by raiders?]
He looks back at me.
Hmm? Oh, no. For one, we have the light horse - they're the successor to the tribal police. They patrol the border and check on outlying farms, outposts, and settlements. Keep the roads clean too. We founded them at the same time as the new government was being founded, to root out anyone left who might've been in the mob.
[How did they do that?]
Lot of pointed questions, lots of knocking down doors. Quite a few people, er, mysteriously left town in those days, dunno where they went and nobody cares.
Anyway, raiders are an issue, but if a serious attack comes, you better believe the city militia will get itself together right quick.
He winks at me and folds his hands on his desk.
We may be a contentious city, but these days? We stick up for each other.