Chapter 3
Leaving the Farm
Gaston chuckled as he read the morning news on his computer. Truthout was interesting, as was, common dreams and Narwal as usual, swinging away with clear thinking essays, also was defend democracy out of Greece. But it was the Chinese and Russian news that often made him laugh out loud. “Where is Tamara Rey?” Shouted the Russian Times headline, using its biggest type. “What has he done now?” Chirped Chinese news, while China quietly moved another chess piece on the course of unfolding history; Railroad connections were established between one more European capitol and China.
The army's beaver dam destruction story had been presented by almost all the online independent news sources. Some news outlets showed video snippets recorded by office staff who had sent their cell phone videos to friends who then sent them to respected wiki leaks news. Jerry Nonassuage had taken his usual stance as world news hero of the people and was maintaining his sources as anonymous. He actually smirked as he calmly announced; “News source names cannot be released without jeopardizing world security.” Gaston was particularly impressed by how little time it had taken his case to reach president Blusterton’s office. The only corporate news video was a brief clip of the president bellowing at the camera.
“Who is this Gaston Gravier?” the president shouted out of a snarling full frontal video clip.
Most of the video clips obviously came from personal phones held by people too interested in what was going on to always remember aiming their phone camera. The action was often off center and sometimes not even on screen, though sound still carried on. The show was spellbinding. Billions of people world-wide watched Tamara’s graceful moves as she slipped from the president’s grasp and flattened him with one blow. When she stood over the vanquished bully attempting to apologize, her eyes occasionally flashed in a way that impressed every one who was watching carefully enough to notice.
Gaston was one of many millions who noticed; He stopped the news video to look into Tamara’s eyes. He saw his own vivid memories of long and inquiring looks into the eyes of many different creatures. Hunters like the raptor, lion and rattlesnake look at one with the detached expression of a machine. Though, on several occasions, he had seen the inner eye of a curious mountain lion and a playful young owl seeking approval for a flight trick. Grazing animals like deer and cattle looked in the human eye for a predator’s concentration and then with curiosity about the person. Tamara’s eyes expressed her human being plus, it seemed to Gaston, the depth of every kind of living being he had seen so far in his life on Earth. He was as glad to have seen a person with Tamara’s eyes as he had been upon encountering all the other animals.
“I wonder what it is like to look into her eyes during normal conversation?” He mused turning from the news to his email.
“Many people want contributions,” he noticed as he sorted through the emails clicking “delete” or “label as spam.”
“Yep, I’ll send her $27,” he decided when he read what the very intelligent Hawaiian congress woman had to say. “She is a rare one who is out in front working for peace as best she is able. She’s about avoiding and stopping endless regime change wars.
“Capitalist empire democrats will probably win the nomination. But so what!” he thought as he clicked the send button.
Gaston’s email and regular mail had increased to almost a full-time job since he saved the beavers who lived on his farm. The president shouting his name all over world-wide news channels increased the volume even more. People around the world had heard about him holding back the army engineer's war against peaceful beaver families. Many people wondered if he had advice for them and generalized river protection.
Gaston was amazed how many rivers were being destroyed by abusive corporations. He had already lost count of how many people told him about problems on their river. He diligently wrote a reply to the most and then began writing fantasy fiction so the basic recipe could and would be passed on. Many began to think the army made a mistake made based on prejudice from the past rather than defeat in the present. Maybe someone will have a better answer was Gaston’s plan for both himself and the army.
Though Gaston still farmed, his new interaction with the rest of humanity was via beaver protection. That showed him how interconnected people had become using electronic communications. He had always been awed by growing food crops. Now he was equally awed by distributed intelligence of humanity. It was flowing into his inbox faster than he had imagined. People had adopted the idea the army was making a mistake based on historic prejudice rather than addiction to endless war. The idea was impossible to miss. People from all over the world began asking; “How do you suggest we correct the mistake of army attacks on our country?” A question form that quickly became the standard format of most questions. But even that question had temporarily become secondary. The number one concern on everyone’s mind was; “Where is Tamara Rey? Is she in solitary confinement somewhere in a dark dank dungeon? Why do we not hear a word from Tamara? Where is she? And where are her friends?”
Gaston also wondered about where Tamara and her friends might be. Reporters from independent www news sources had staked out San Francisco’s airport as soon as governor Starbeam had made his press release about Tamara and her nine companions aboard a corporate jet rented by California and flown by loyal Oregon and Washington pilots. The state air guard had been sent on a full speed rendezvous course to escort them home.
Permanent staff in Washington DC had been interviewed extensively and just about everyone on Earth knew that the original group had eagerly jumped aside to let beautiful Afghani refugee Evers aboard the plane when she asked if they would accept her. That much was a www digital video record; that's how they became the first ten. Latest rumors were that she, too, was an illegal alien chased out of her homeland in Afghanistan by US military searching for bad guys. The news was becoming an alternate reality almost as tacky as the Marylin Lewdish affair a few presidents back. Here and now for Evers was that she had become one of the first ten and was on the run.
“First ten what?” Very few knew anything. Among those who knew something, they mostly knew very little. There were eight people from the creator’s lab at the University in Berkeley. What kind of place is that? Who knows? Maybe a place where rescue robots and blood cleaner might become something real? In this case, eight people from the creator’s lab were examining US democracy DC style. Why? Only the creators know what they were doing in DC. And they are missing.
Evers worked for the us president. Independent news sources were fairly certain Evers was just as illegal as Tamara. Reporters are flocking to her home district in Afghanistan at this moment. The press corps is in a real time surge way outside planned reporter embedding in approved units. Whoever is the first to interview a relative of Evers might get the dynamite peace prize. Life itself sometimes made Gaston laugh.
An independent reporter stampede for the farms, frontiers and cities of Honduras and Guatemala was researching austerity, financial colonialism and genocide of native people. That stampede was happening at the same time that a homebody permanent crowd of young independent reporters had congregated as a homogenized, milling permanence between the Mario Savio cafeteria and the creator’s lab, next to the computer science building. Some info-age journalists were calling the Mario Savio cafe patio, “patio Che.” And the name has stuck, at least during this rapidly intensifying quest to locate Tamara and the group of ten.
It was in the excitement of this worldwide whirl of activity that had joined everyone into one focused humanity that Gaston clicked on an email from governor Starbeam’s office. “Is it spam?” he wondered. No. It was a genuine note from the governor. Gaston was thrilled to see an email from the governor of California.
“Greetings and salutations, to Gaston Gravier,” the email began. He thought the beginning was a bit stuffy but better than,“Dear Gaston.” He eagerly continued reading.
“Your recent success protecting the beavers on your farm has involved me in much unplanned activity. I also learned quite a bit from you about beavers and their services to Earth. I want to schedule a meeting with you to discuss all aspects of the Beaver file papers as soon as possible. Please reply to this email and someone will help set up our meeting.
“Cordially, Governor Starbeam
“ps, It is true that Tamara Rey and the entire group of ten are missing. This is an emergency. I need your help. We must hurry.”