Commander Rob Escobar was the middle child born to a Marine and a “Coastie”. His older brother had been born before The Collapse and led the Washington Minutemen until he died from an infection 15 years prior. His younger sister was governor but occasionally stood guard as a sharpshooter. He jokingly warned me that she can put a rock between a squirrel’s eyes from 60 feet away using a sling.

Rob told me story after story about how’d they recruited fighters and provided refuge to people struggling. The core strategy to their survival had been to persevere in an area they believed was too inhospitable for any other large group to explore. This had been working out until last spring when some strangers tried to shake down some of their hunters.

“My father and brother taught Griff, my sister, and I how to fight. We understood how to fight but we had never truly done it. We lost dozens of fine people. Loved ones.”

“Hear,” several voices came.

“Today, we pushed back. In the two seasons we’ve been fighting, we’d only ever taken two of theirs. They would strike and flee; strike and flee. Today, we did not allow them to flee.”

“Hear!”

“Today we’ve taken the initiative.”

“Hear!!” the chorus said louder.

“Today our brothers and sisters can have hope to be safe again.”

“Hear!!!”

“That is because you all.”

“Oorah!” the voices replied.

I raised my cup. “Cheers.”

“Because we had Liam,” Rob said.

Men and women sitting on the floor, cushions, and crates all looked at me.

“Hear! Hear!” Rob said.

Slowly around the circle, each person raised their cup.

Rob looked at all the faces lit by the fire crackling in the stove. He quietly started again. “We had insight. We had intelligence. Our forefathers were part of a great army, the U-S military. They were the best. But what made them effective was knowledge. Liam has brought us knowledge and I believe that is what we need so we can make our brothers and sisters—our children—safe. So cheers to Liam.”

“Cheers,” the chorus said.

We listened to the sound of popping and hisses from the stove. After a moment, pairs and small groups around the stove began speaking in hushed tones to one another.

“Hey, Rob,” I said, softly. “Can I talk to you?”

Rob turned on the crate to face me and leaned down.

“You know, I didn’t do anything. Insight helped you, I sat here next to the fire and shivered.”

“I know. That’s okay, brother. Rous’n speeches aren’t about facts, they are to sway people and make them feel somethin’. They might not seem it, but they are quietly understanding that the victory would never have been won if it wasn’t for outside help.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“They’ve grown to distrust outsiders. But we can’t rebuild this nation without allies.”

“You want to rebuild Washington?”

Rob chuckled. “Not just Washington, Liam. We want to rebuild the United States.”

My expression was blank, or at least I thought it was.

“You’re right. None of us alive ever lived in that country. We just know the stories.”

“It’s a nice goal,” I said. “I’m not sure it makes sense, but you have a goal which is important.”

“The fellow I’d relayed messages with, Romero, said that you had nations in Africa.”

“We call them tribes. We’re sorta all one nation but we live in villages that are spread out.”

“Can you leave your village?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. It’s more like you don’t have to so most people don’t. They are content in the village. Everything they need and love is there.”

“Do you believe it is ‘utopia’?”

I had to laugh. “I mean, sure. It’s not perfect—far from it—but everyone has what they need and are happy.”

“Why is that not utopia for you?”

I sipped the tart drink. “They are happy in their villages, with their people. They have to be prompted to step outside their comfort. If they aren’t, they’ll happily never understand who the others are.”

“Racism?” Rob asked.

“Yeah. More broadly, xenophobia. Skin color has less to do with tribes being disconnected than their differing cultures. I don’t know how to remedy that. I can’t believe in utopia until there is understanding and love for the ‘other’. WISE has been trying.”

“Why not have everyone merge their cultures? Or make a new one?”

“I don’t know. I—I don’t believe that’s the answer. If it were so simple, I think it would have been done a long time ago.”

Rob nodded slowly.

“I have a friend, Minnie. Where she came from, invaders separated the nations to weaken them. When they fought against that, they came together as a democracy, but each tribe kept their own traditions alive. I guess I believe keeping that part of you is important.”

“I think I agree with you, brother. It is an uphill battle that must be fought. I want to believe in that,” Rob said.

“Cheers.”

#

In the morning there was a new message from Doctor Jacobs and I left for the 67-hour flight home.

#

Her tribe held a festival to celebrate her life. Their friend, elder, grandmother left a message: “Love is natural to us all.”

Minnie also left a message for me: “The plants go to my eldest grandchild.”

She’d paid me back for my comment.

I found homes for each plant with the children that came by. I gave them instructions for caring for the plants and told them to message me if they forgot or needed help.

From the stoop of her house, I watched as families danced and sang.

Her celebration.

#

“Sweetheart?” Mom asked when the door slid open. I pressed my face into her shoulder. After what felt like a long time, she moved her hands to my shoulder and gently pushed back to look at my face. “I’ll make coffee while you shower,” she said wiping away a tear as she turned towards the kitchen.

The shower on the transport was convenient but it didn’t push much water, plus I hadn’t used it since leaving Washington. I let the steaming water run over me for a long time; the warmth on my skin contrasting with the deep, cold feeling. Dad’s soap smelled of rosemary and lavender, a combination my mom had surely picked out.

I toweled dry and found that she’d set out clean clothes for me outside the shower room.

I paused at the bedroom door. Mom, Dad, and Paul sat at the table. A plate of cookies was placed in the center next to the coffee pot. I joined them in my customary spot and ate a cookie as everyone silently looked at their respective mugs.

“These cookies would blow the minds of almost anyone I’ve met in the past few weeks,” I said. We all giggled softly; eyes still fixed on mugs.

Mom cleared her throat. “I talked to Shay. She told me Minnie had decided to not take the treatment prescribed.”

I swallowed. “Her song was over, I guess.”

#

The farm had been fine without me. 19 days in North America and 3 more days hopping between Tesla and 584. The papaya harvest had been overseen by a second-year student who needed field hours. The little overachiever even wiped down all the drones afterward.

I settled in at home with Stalker. At home on my farmstead.

“Abi, what about those messages I missed?”

“You have four ignored messages. Do you want to hear them?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Text only message from Professor Lehto: Hailey Petrov took some photos of your wonderful orchard. Our art program would like to come out and paint, take photos, and have some other activities among the trees. Please let me know if next Wednesday is not good for you.”

“Abi, when was this message from?”

“About two weeks ago. There is a second message from Professor Lehto: I see that you are away from home and I didn’t hear back from you. I reached a man named Herbert who granted us permission to visit. So we’re going to stop by tomorrow for the day.”

“Well, that worked itself out,” I said.

“Indeed. That is why I did not bother you with it again.”

“Next message?”

“Dondra from your stop in Former Florida left a voice message three days ago. I’ll play it.”

“Hi. It’s Dondra. I wanted to know if you were going to be stopping by again. Someone named ‘Abi’ said I could leave a message for you. So here is the message, I guess. You can keep the jacket if you really need it. We don’t need it. It doesn’t get that cold here. But… but if you do fly past Florida again, I still want that chocolate. Umm. Bye?”

“End of message,” Abi said. “The last is a voice message from Commander Escobar, yesterday:”

“Liam. This is Rob. We wanted to extend our condolences. Losing family is hard. Insight is helping us to resolve some complications we’ve been having. Not with those bandits though, they seem to be laying low. Mostly just some logistics. We’ve got an idea I want to talk to you about. Over.”

“End of Message. Would you like to try connecting to Commander Escobar?”

“What time is it there?”

“Six-o-nine A-M. The Commander is awake eating breakfast.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can hear him eating breakfast. He is getting the weather update from Insight at this moment. Would you like me to connect you?”

“Sure.”

A moment passed.

“Liam. Can you hear me?” Rob said.

“Yes, Rob. I just listened to your message.”

“Oh. Again, our condolences. I wanted to talk to you about this idea Insight, I, and my people are discussing. We want to move forward with ‘On-Boarding’, as Insight calls it.”

“Hey. Wow. That is great, Rob. Have you drawn up a proposal for Incorporation?”

“Not yet. We’re still working out the details and Insight has explained to us that it could take ten or more years before we’re Incorporated.”

“That’s right. But there are a lot of benefits to be had immediately.”

“What I want to talk to you about is the role I want you to have.”

I paused. “What role is that, Rob?”

“First off, we would greatly appreciate you helping us to draft the proposal. My sister is a good governor, but she isn’t any more a legal person than I am.”

“Don’t worry about it. Proposals are promises to yourself. They don’t obligate you to anyone besides yourselves until after incorporation which is a brand-new proposal. This proposal is to help you set goals.”

“Yes, sir. Insight told me that. I want you to help draft the proposal for our ambitious side project. We want to start producing more crops, enough to start sharing. After you had a few ciders the other night, you told me all about your farm. We want you to be the Secretary of Agriculture.”

I again paused.

“Liam?”

“I’m here.”

“We want you to join us in Washington. Help us rebuild here. It ain’t gonna be the United States. Maybe more like the United Tribes.” He laughed. “But to do that, we need food in bellies. And we need people like you to help make that happen. Will you come up here to the cold for a year or two?”

“Umm,” I said.

“I don’t mean to put you on the spot. Think about it, Liam. I’ll let you go.”

“Yeah… I’ll think about it, Rob.”

We finished out with pleasantries—as you do—and disconnected.

“Abi, do they actually need my help to scale up their agriculture?”

“Based on the farming capabilities demonstrated by their operation at this time, they would be able to scale up without you. With WISE resources, including drone assistance, they most certainly don’t need you. But I predict that the project would progress more quickly and with less setbacks with you being there.”

“Maybe I could go up there for a few weeks and help them out. Train some people.”

“There is another reason for Commander Escobar’s request.”

“What’s that?”

“Your presence there would help to transition the tribe. As they got to know you, they’d be getting to know WISE and what it represents to their future.”

“Right. I’ll think about it.”