The wars were over. The world was busy trying to regain all that was lost in the fighting. A new government was trying to form, but there were many difficulties. After ten years of mind-numbing war, the people weren't too interested in having someone come in to make rules for them again. They won the war of freedom from government. Everyone wanted to keep control over their own lives. They really didn't want any government stepping in and fouling things up again.

So, while some parts of the world were trying to reassemble the lost government, the rest of the world was living each day as a struggling fight for survival. Money really didn't exist anymore. After the war, the economy was shot, and with no one to run it, it ended. In place of money was trade. If someone wanted something, they traded for it. It didn't really matter what it was that was traded. Everything had a value. Some things were worth more than others, but even before the war, that was the way things were. If someone wanted safety, they didn't live in the city, and even away from the cities there was danger. If they chose to stay in the city, you worked or traded for protection. It was not a beautiful world to live in anymore.

But, it was a choice the people made and most of them were too proud to admit that they were wrong, too proud to change. There was very little hope for a peaceful world, or a government that worked. Most of the people decided that since they wanted the Reclamation Movement and got it, they would have to live with all its conciquences.

My hope wasn't lost. It was just buried beneath a mountain of fear, helplessness, and worry. I was too busy keeping alive to have the time to make things better. I did want to make things better. At night, as I try to fall asleep, ideas run through my head on how to make things work, on how to end the daily fight to preserve life and limb. I even had ideas on how to convince the people to change the way things were. But the ideas stayed in my head, only coming out in that time between sleep and awake.

My protection came from not being noticed. I didn't make waves. I didn't take drugs so I didn't have the problem of finding the right thing to trade for them. The price for drugs was way too high for my taste. I only had two real friends that I confided in, keeping the chance for betrayal low. I kept away from dangerous people and dangerous places. And I got lucky that I was small, and quiet, and not particularly attractive. Attractive people had it the worst. They had to make their world revolve around their looks, and that was a danger in itself.

Most of the time I worked for food. I was doing odd jobs and it helped me out a great deal. If there were no jobs, I would scavenge the outskirts of the city for things to trade. I tried to keep myself busy all the time. I had seen too many idle hands end up dead or nearly dead.

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I elbowed Parker in the arm as I looked down the strangely empty streets. "You got a smoke?" I asked. "Old man Johnson's been dry for a while and isn't expecting a shipment in anytime soon. I am starting to get a nic fit going on."

My good friend, Boyd Parker, always had cigarettes, even when the rest of the city was dry. Not even I knew how he did it, but that was his secret to keep. He flipped open his pack and handed me a smoke.

"How many is that now, Raine?" A playful smile curled the corner of his lips. "You must owe me a couple of packs by now. If you weren't my friend . . . "

"If I wasn't your friend, you wouldn't be bumming smokes to me, Parker," I said, with a laugh. With a more serious tone, I added, "Awfully quiet here tonight, don't you think?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "Everyone is down at Drummond's warehouse. Some kind of government rally going on there tonight. Not really my thing, if you ask . . . "

I didn't stick around for Parker to finish his sentence. Any kind of rally concerning the government, or the lack of it, was of some concern to me, especially in a city like this one. Maybe the people were coming to their senses. Maybe things were starting to change.

I ran the six blocks to the warehouse. By the time I got there I was out of breath and sweating. I made my way through the crowded entrance and pushed through the people until I got a good view of a small, makeshift stage. There were some people seated on the stage, some I recognized from the city and some I didn't know at all. Judging from the fancy clothes the strangers were wearing, I didn't think that they were from this city at all. That bothered me. Strangers coming into town, to preach about government, were a slaughter just waiting to happen.

One of the strangers stepped up to a microphone. He looked like a politician in his tailored suit and nicely cut hair. An easy target, I thought. Sticking his hands in his pockets, the man began to speak.

"My name is Carl Anderson. I am the current governor of Sector Three, or as you know it, the northeastern section of the United States. I was asked to come here in the hopes of convincing you all to start your own governorship in the new Sectional Government . . . "

"Fuck the government!" It was one of the loudest shouts but it certainly wasn't the only one. I was half expecting the crowd to rush the stage and kill the man.

"Hey now," he continued, "Things are different. It's not the same government that betrayed you, us, before the wars. It is a sectional government, started by the same men that started the Reclamation Movement before the wars. They are the same men that gave you your real freedom."

"Freedom? The man speaks to us of freedom? We aren't free! We are slaves, of survival, of fear! Anarchy is not freedom! It is hell! It is everything we wanted before the war and all the things we hate because of it! How is your Sectional Government going to help us? How can it? We wanted the life of the ungoverned! We fought and died for it."

I didn't know I had actually shouted these words until it was too late to stop them. The crowd had hushed to an uncomfortable silence and nearly every eye in the room was on me. My own eyes grew wide and my heart pounded so hard I thought it was going to burst. At the very least, I hadn't said anything that was going to get me killed. But, I was suddenly no longer the mouse. If only a few of these people knew me now, by tomorrow everyone would.

The man at the microphone was speechless. He clearly expected me to say more. I didn't have any idea what to do or say.

"I...uh . . . I don't think that the people are ready to accept what you have to offer them." Then the words just rolled off my tongue like honey. "They do not want your government. To them, government means rules, laws, loss of freedom. Although, I am sure, they hate the way some of the things are now, to get rid of those things, to make rules against those things, means that they would eventually end up making rules for other things. It is a snowball rolling down a mountain, Governor. It will just get bigger and bigger until it reaches the bottom, and when it does, it buries the city. And then we are back to where we started, before the Reclamation Movement."

"It's not like that," the governor said, "Sectional governing is simple. Each section rules in its own way. Whatever leader is picked doesn't have to answer to anybody but the people who picked him or her. The rules, if there are any, are made by the people, or taken away, by the people. And that's it."

I was the one to be rendered speechless this time. The man had spoken, out loud, some of the very ideas I had only thought or dreamed about. Although they sang beautifully in my ears, the people may not have been ready to hear these words. But, I couldn't let the people know how I felt. I'd be dead in a day if I did.

"Go home, Mr. Governor," I managed to choke out. "If these people really wanted a new government, they would have made one already. It is what we fought so hard for in the first place. It is what we won, with our blood, sweat, and our tears. Go home. Go make some rules and laws in some other section. We like our freedom just the way it is. The good, the bad, and the ugly."

Then I left. With my heart in my throat and my hands shaking madly, I walked down the path that the people had cleared for me and I left the warehouse.

_________________________________________________

The very next day was hell for me. Not only did everyone refuse to do business with me, most wouldn't even talk to me. My friends were the only exception. They, at least, talked to me. They told me that the lord of the city's crime syndicate, Cannon Drummond, had put the word out. Nobody was to trade with me, talk to me, or anything else, with the threat that the same would happen to them if they did. Drummond wasn't going to give up the hold he had over the city, to me or to anyone else.

"I don't get it, Parker," I said, "All I did was spout a bunch of anti-government mumbo-jumbo. I thought that's what they all wanted."

Parker ran his hand through his long, brown hair and laughed. He said, "That is what they wanted, Raine, but that's not exactly what they heard. I followed you to the warehouse. I heard what you were shouting to that governor. Wonderful speech. The only thing you did was point out all the things that are wrong here. You gave a very good list of reasons why we should start our own government. The people only heard you say, out loud, all the things that they only dare to think about in their heads. Drummond heard it the loudest, I think. You are just lucky he didn't put out a hit on you."

I got up off my couch and went over to the empty cupboards over the sink. I let out a long, slow, breath and rested my hands on the edge of the counter top. They way I saw it, there were only three things I could do to get out of this situation. First, I could go talk to Drummond and tell him that my words came out all the wrong way and that I was very sorry. I could only hope that he didn't strangle me on the spot. Second, I could throw caution to the wind and run for governor myself, and still chance getting strangled by Drummond. Or third, I could just pack it all up and leave town as fast as I could. For some reason, leaving town right now seemed the best choice to me.

Parker came up to me from behind and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, Raine," he said. "You can't leave. For all your quiet and secluded ways, you can't just take off and dash these people's hopes on the ground as if you just don't give a damn. You can't possibly know how long I have waited, hell, how long everyone has waited for someone to finally say those words."

"We've all been too damn proud, Parker," I said, knowing that Parker was right.

"It's hard for them to admit that they were wrong, especially after fighting so damned hard to get what they wanted. Finding out that absolute freedom is a terrible thing isn't a pleasant experience." Parker turned me around and handed me a lit cigarette. "But, you are the one that said it and I am proud to count you as one of my friends."

"We are all proud, Raine." The voice belonged to my other best friend, Angel McFadden. She stood in the doorway to my flat, a huge duffle bag slung over her shoulder, bright green hair pulled into pigtails, smiling. "I thought maybe I would come over to stay with you for a while. You're going to need someone to watch your back, and do your trading for you."