The night passed by quietly. They each only got four hours of sleep, but they had to move quickly. Touch woke when she walked up to him at sunrise. They brushed their teeth and hair. Rachel borrowed some of Touch's beard oil to brush into her hair. After that, they found their own respective places to answer mother nature's call, practiced sword play for an hour, and were off on a trail through the woods.
"How'd the report go?" Rachel asks as they walk.
"Good. There was a lot to go through. I'm proposing a strategy of passive resistance to help deal with our unwelcome guests."
"Proposing? To who? You leading some kind of resistance movement?" A guy with his kind of connections, the way the corporations had made a guinea pig out of him, she could see it.
"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. Resistance isn't a movement here, it's a way of life. I sent my report to all my contacts, and a few forums on the nets. People are going to read it, talk about it, share it, and decide what they are going to do for themselves.
"But someone has to be in charge, right? There's got to be a group of people deciding how to handle the army. What about the council?"
"Why should anyone be in charge?" He replies quickly. "People can organize amongst themselves. Is anyone in charge of the free-web? No, it's just a messy, patchwork mosaic of people all over the world setting up computers, writing software, and collaborating freely.
As for the towns, they're run in a unique way. Major decisions are made in open general assemblies, where anyone can attend to speak their mind, and vote on issues directly. The council is delegated to run most day-to-day operations, but their status can be revoked at anytime. It's not like the old days, when you voted for the lesser of two evils, and get stuck with what you got. They can be fired and replaced at any time by a general assembly. Or if their fellow council members vote them out. So power ultimately remains in the hands of the locals. People have learned to run their own lives."
Rachel thinks this over as they walk. She remembers Tara and James talking about this, and dragging her along to a meeting:
They sat towards the back of the pews of the converted church. All religious imagery had been removed. The stained glass was extracted and replaced with large wooden shutters that were lowered to keep in heat and propped open to let a breeze in. Tonight was cool, so the shutters were open.
The place was alight with the quiet hum of small town gossip. She saw families bringing their kids, greeting friends, and chatting amongst themselves. She saw plenty of people come by themselves and in pairs, doing the same. Every few minutes someone would walk by and say a quick hello to James and Tara, obligating her to shake hands and give quick introductions.
Soon enough, right at eight-thirty, a man with a large gut and huge beard stepped on to the podium.
“Spokesman Callahan.” Tara whispered. He was the Spokesman of the Assembly for this week. Tara told her on their way here how they rotated spokespersons every week, to give all the homesteaders that were part of the co-op the opportunity to run the assembly, and share in the administrative and the logistics duties of running a co-op. There was only one Spokesman sent from each farm and homestead. Though anyone could attend, only the Spokesman had voting power, but the spokesman can be anyone from the farm, whether it was the same person or a new person each time was up to the people on the farm. So, out of the families that attended, only one of them could vote. The rest could only observe and discuss.
“Alrighty, let's get this started.” Callahan said. “First order of business; the review. Nothings changed. Everything looks good. Anyone got any complaints? No? Alright, moving on. Kelly needs some help weaving baskets or crocheting doilies or something else silly to trade at the fall festival, so I’ll let her take the stand and plead her case.”
And with that, a sandy blonde haired woman stepped up and asked for volunteers. A few people raised their hands or vowed to ask around and recruit on her behalf, then she stepped down and invited the next person on stage.
One by one, people stepped up and asked for help or simply share helpful news. One guy asked for extra hands to help renovate his kitchen. A woman discussed a new fertilizer that was growing popular in some other towns. Some guy used his time on stage simply to ask how everyone’s day was going.
Stolen story; please report.
Most people passed over their turn to speak. Eventually a newcomer stepped up to apply for membership to the co-op. He had moved into town around six weeks ago and converted his broken-down house at the edge of town into a large fruit garden and wood working shop. He shared how many strawberries and other fruits he could produce, as well as some samples of his handiwork in woodworking, and all the different things he knew how to do.
When he was done, the crowd took the opportunity to question him further, before putting it to a vote. To Rachel’s surprise, a few kids from the families were the ones who stood up to cast their vote. No one had a problem with the new guy joining, and he was welcomed as an official member of the co-opt.
Even though she liked how everyone was allowed to participate, and how fair and open everything was, she just didn't care for politics. Rachel had assumed that the farmers and homesteaders on the outskirts of town had a special way of doing things. But given what Touch was saying, most things in town are run by these assemblies. Workers come together to decide who's going to do what, how things are going to be run, even who their bosses were.
Though, technically no one has the right to give orders. Bosses and council members could only coordinate and recommend, not compel. Even groups of people couldn’t compel or punish you. At most they could fire you. But even the unemployed didn’t go hungry here, since people didn’t use money, food is freely given.
It was just like collaborating on a group project, except scaled to thousands of people.
"So what, everyone just does what they want? People spy on the army, Ortega gathers all the reports, and you develop a detailed strategy to counter them, just because you all felt like it? There's no secret rebel base, no underground movement?" She tries not to sound disappointed.
"Correct. We all openly share what we know. I propose my strategy because it's how I can best contribute. If people decide my strategy is best, they'll go along with it. If they decide to go with something different, or a combination of different things, then that is their choice. It is the same with everything else. Decision-making power ultimately remains in the hands of those who have to pay the consequences."
Rachel stops walking. Touch turns around to face her. She looks up.
"These mercenaries don't stand a chance. Corporations aren't equipped to fight like this. It's all numbers and careers and chain of command with them."
Touch offers a sad smile.
"I wish you were right, but things can always change for the worst. Places like this have been cropping up all over the globe since the government was bought out. Most are simply crushed or corrupted beyond recognition by corporations and gangs. The way things are done here is unique. The way these small towns are clustered is ideal for this way of life to develop, but these damn warlords can't just leave well enough alone and mind their own business. AriCorp has shown to be more ruthless and cruel with their 'Evos first' policy. I'm worried what this new group might be the one to undo it all."
"No, Aris might be angry, but he is young, a-and lost. He's reckless, be he isn't a monster. He will come to his senses and stop this." Rachel was tearing up.
"You sound like you were close." Touch says.
"Lets keep moving." Rachel says, marching past him.
They take a wide arc around the towns, adding another day to their journey, and made camp well outside the next town, where the guy with her tablet was. They were in a clearing, sheltered from the road by distance and a drop-off creating a miniature cliff. A PVC pipe with an internet cable came out of the ground by up against the rock face.
"Where do you think this leads?" Rachel asks.
"There's a farmhouse over that way. Risky rolling out a cable so close to your house, but this place seems hard to find, without a map."
Rachel plugs in her phone, using one of Ortega's adapters, and messages A-134, the alias of the guy with the tablet.
'I'll be in town soon. Where you wanna meet?' She asks.
A minute later.
'How does a coffee shop here sound?' He attaches the screenshot of a map of town, with a pin stuck close to the center.
Fuck that. This town was closest to the city, more likely to have corporate loyalists around.
'Lotta bounty hunter's and snitches around lately. Somewhere outside of town. With internet.'
Another minute.
'Best I could find.' Attached was the same map, with a pin closer to the edge. She shows it to Touch.
"A literal slaughterhouse. Hope that's not a bad omen. We can head in after dark. Tell him to come alone."
'That works. Come alone, I'll be there at 9pm.'
He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and several pictures of the map, progressively zooming in on the agreed upon location in greater detail.