To some, the gathering might have looked strange. There was no board room, no grand and elaborate table, no pomp or circumstances. It was just a simple, yet sturdy, wooden table, that had served as the dining table for a simple farming family. Now, it was the seat of the Six, the recently elected leader of their community. Despite the simple setting, the meeting taking place was important, each of the participants a pillar that held up the rights of the silent majority. They had worked together to oust those few who had initially shaped the group that had escaped the ruined city but after that escape, the previous leadership hadn’t been willing to rebuild civilisation, instead, they had focused on establishing their own, personal power. No elections, no structured governance, just a few people making decisions and expecting the rest to fall in line, just because those making the decisions had high numbers in that strange system.

Utter foolishness, there was no sensible way to reduce somebody as complex as a person to simple numbers. Granted, one could track physical performance, things like a person’s ability to lift or how fast they could run, those could be measured. But the mental make-up of somebody, their intelligence, charisma and courage? No, such markers couldn’t be measured without comparative tests, weighted for previous education, age and experience. And what was a level supposed to be anyway? This wasn’t some inane game, this was the real world, where real people needed to make real decisions. Not play along to a shared delusion and certainly not to follow some strange, new gods.

They, as a group, might not be terribly religious but they collectively believed in the foundations of Western civilisation and that included One Nation under One God. Not some glowing, finger-waggling insanity, no matter what some of the fools claimed. They might be the last Americans, but they would make sure their way of life wouldn’t die out, they would build their lives back, maybe even better than before, and make America great again.

Together, the Six that now made up the council had talked to the people in the community, listened to their concerns and realised that something needed to be done. Why should those with a higher level get better treatment, everyone was important and should be listened to. As the Six listened, more and more people expressed concerns about the strange things some could do, the unnatural actions and their unease with this strange, new magic. Their world had been destroyed by some unknown, unseen force, burned with a terrible fire, and now, some fools deluded themself in thinking they could wield ‘magic’ without consequence. It was madness and the more the Six listened, the more they had to agree. It was insane, calling upon the same force that had destroyed the world without considering the implications. No, if they wanted to rebuild their world, they needed to do it the right way.

That decision marked a change, a point where they went from passively listening to the people in their community to trying to actively make change, to take control so a fair and just system could be established, not some tyranny brought about by the assessment of an insane system that had come to tear their world apart and succeeded far too well for everybody’s comfort.

“Okay guys, we need to go over the latest reports,” their leader, Jacob Walters, began their routine Friday meeting, where the group gathered to go over the state their community was in, exchange information and make decisions for the future. It was routine but it was also important, especially as they made sure to inform their constituents of the community’s state every Sunday, during service.

“Ms Torres, why don’t you start us off with our food situation and prognosis?” he suggested, looking at the sole female in their group.

“Certainly,” the well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties who had been a regional manager for a supermarket chain before the end of the world, stood, briefly looking at a few notes before her. “The second harvest has been brought in, sadly I have to report that the total amount is about twenty-five per cent lower than the first harvest, despite using the same amount of acreage. Furthermore, it looks like some of our food stores have walked off, I’ve been trying to find out where but our predecessors have left little in the way of files. Despite that, our overall food stores are in good shape and as long as the planned third harvest turns out as estimated we can easily supply ourselves through the winter,” she explained, before adding some more details so everyone could track her progress. Those numbers, especially the prognosis for the winter, would be important to share with their community.

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“Excellent, thank you, Kelly. Please make sure that nothing ‘walks off’ anymore, it sets a bad precedent. Maybe we should tell the people about the thefts, there might be a few who have seen something. In addition, I feel it is a little worrying that the yield went down, can you look into the reason for that, was there some sort of pest infection, bad weather or something like that? Hopefully, we can find out what went wrong and take steps to correct the problem,” Jacob instructed, before turning to the next member of their little group. “Mr Wolf, please report on the current workforce. If the problem with the harvest came from a labour shortage, we should correct that as soon as possible.”

“We have more people available than before, especially to guard the town. It should be no problem to send a few of them to the fields and help with the harvest or to continue the building of individual houses. Overall, we have more people staying in town constantly, while a number of those who had been drifting in and out of town seem to have packed their things and left for good. No idea where they went, but they aren’t our problem any longer. Though, they might be responsible for stealing from the food stores, if they were planning to leave, why not take as much food as they can carry?” Michael, the one responsible for the farm’s labour force reported, getting nods all around.

“Additionally, I have directed people to start harvesting firewood, winter will be here sooner than later and things will likely get cold, especially in the initial barracks, their construction is sturdy but not really solid,” he explained, before stressing that the building project for individual homes wouldn’t be able to provide one for every family before the winter.

“Makes sense. Maybe we should instruct the guards to keep an eye out, no need to lose more food to thieves,” Jacob suggested, before picking the suggestion about the ongoing construction and requesting a report on that.

“Sure, things are looking…” David Morgan, the councillor responsible for those projects shrugged, “Well, I was told that the guy who planned out that stuff has packed his stuff and left, no real idea why. I’ve been looking for somebody to pick up the slack, maybe you can help with that Michael? We’ve been re-using the previous plans but there are limits to that, we need somebody who knows what they are doing with individual homes made from wood, I’m more a roads and concrete guy, but it’s difficult to get that stuff now,” the engineer shrugged, knowing that his area of expertise was similar but not quite what was needed here.

“Problematic but nothing insurmountable. Michael, David, work together on that, we need to get our people ready for the winter,” Jacob ordered, before focusing on the youngest member of their little group, Councilor Chris Adams, responsible for the various people who crafted different goods.

“Well, our stockpiles of weapons and ammunition have increased, so I have directed the crafters to put more focus on tools and clothes, especially in preparation for the winter,” he quickly summarised, indicating there was little change in his area of responsibility. Accepting that things were well in hand, the meeting focused on the most important aspect of their job, communicating things to the people making up their community.

They needed to make sure that the people got the right message and were motivated by it. Things were already bad enough after the world had broken, they needed to get back to a normal and structured life, a routine that allowed them to heal. Not the constant battles and reminders of the broken world, a slice of normalcy would give them something to identify with. The regular Sunday service was part of that, a routine that united the people, forming them from a disparate group of individuals into a true community with a shared foundation of trust. Again and again, the message they were planning to share during the service was refined, until everyone agreed it would give the right impression and motivate people to do their best.