The Exchange

By IR Watteau

*copied from Word, so the format may be off a litte

When they first arrived, we called them aliens, for they were from another world. And to the surprise of many, the little reptilian men and women came out of their torus-shaped metallic vessels speaking fluent English. They accomplished this, we were told, by intercepting and reviewing the various transmissions we sent into the cosmoses. I suppose I had seen the process repeated before. During the Bush years, I met an Iraqi man who had never laid foot on American soil, but he had seen countless American films, and so he spoke with the ease of a native Californian. It appeared our extraterrestrial friends, who we came to know as the Nagi, had killed a few brain cells doing the same.

With the arrival of the Nagi, many wondered how Earth’s motley religions would react. But this too was a surprise, for when the Nagi explained how many of their religions mirrored our own, and how they were only here to benignly learn about us, everyone quickly returned to their normal dogmatic routines. Church was still on Sunday, and the Middle East was still on fire. It was curious to note though, how one of the Nagi’s religions believed in a Christ-like figure of its own. It reminded me of the Italian philosopher Giordano Bruno, who was burned at the stake for postulating there were other Christs on other worlds, each dying for the sins of its own species. I had always thought there had been some truth to his musings.

With the topic of religion rendered moot, the Nagi set themselves to the task at hand: information gathering. This is where I came in. I, along with three others, was asked by the government of the United States to meet with a particular group of Nagi representatives who wanted to explore the various ways in which humanity governed itself.

Joining me was Congressman Jim Connell, a moderate Republican from South Carolina, who was really nothing more than a rubber stamp for the Democratic Party. Next was Susan Feinstein. She was a fierce social Democrat who ran her own show on MSNBC. Last on the list was Professor Donald Shoemaker. He was the Dean of Studies at Yale University. Needless to say, if the Nagi were going to hear anything other than Collectivism, Socialism, Statism or social justice, it would be because I had said it, since I was the odd man out as the only Conservative in the lot.

On the day of our meeting, conservation between the four of us was brief. We arrived at the hotel promptly at noon. I was alone, but the other three came with entourages in tow. The space in the lobby quickly evaporated. In the midst of the bustle, I meandered quietly through the foyer with my hands in my pockets to a secluded section along the wall. I watched as the people checked their smart phones, ran to grab coffee, and exchanged vapid greetings. After a minute or so, several men and women in suits came to fetch us. The four of us were then escorted to a large lecture room that had been sealed off for the Nagi. About a dozen dehumidifiers lined the hallway and the walls of the room since the Nagi preferred a more arid environment. Once we were inside, and once we had settled into our seats, refreshments were delivered to us by the hotel staff. We sat facing a large table at the other end of the room where seven chairs lay waiting for their Nagi guests.

Several more minutes passed before the Nagi arrived. They were humanoid beings with strong reptilian features. If humans had evolved from monkeys, the Nagi had undoubtedly evolved from lizards. They offered us a respectful bow before they took their seats. My head nodded back to them in return. I noticed they were wearing gloves on their hands, masks over their mouths, and goggles over their eyes. I assumed this was to protect their immune systems from the bacteria and the viruses of our world.

“Thank you for meeting us today,” the Nagi in the middle hissed.

He spoke in a harsh wispy voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a low growl, which was not unusual for the Nagi. If it weren’t for the benevolent look in their eyes, one could easily assume they were hostile, since the Nagi resembled many of the extraterrestrial villains produced by Hollywood.

“We have made a thorough assessment of your various governments,” the one in the middle continued, “and we have concluded you are a very fragmented species. Your governments tend to have a 200 year lifespan. When you are collectivized, such as under Communism, you produce a poorer standard of living for your people. Under dictatorships, there are harsher penalties, increased polarization, rampant corruption, and unchecked abuses. With mixed economies, such as Socialism, debt increases to unsustainable levels and collapse eventually ensues. Capitalism produces the most wealth and innovation, but its time is short-lived and your species ultimately abandons it in favor of a mixed economy. Republics are superior to democracies. Democratic Republics are a misnomer. And theocracies, monarchies, and aristocracies are just as treacherous as dictatorships. Our question to you then is: what is the ideal form of government? What have you missed?”

Susan Feinstein cleared her throat. She shifted confidently in her seat.

“Democracy works best,” she started, “the people should always be the answer.”

“Not for your species,” the Nagi on the far left interjected. “Democracy for your species leads to mob rule. Mob rule leads to entitlements. Entitlements lead to an insolvent government. If you were a hive-minded species, then a Collectivized society would be ideal. But, you are not a hive-minded species. You are individualized, tribal, nationalistic...”

Susan’s lips moved to respond, but she stumbled over her words. Eventually, she fell silent and settled back into her seat.

“With all due respect,” Jim Connell proceeded, “the people should be the answer, but in the form of elected representatives, and those representatives should share power. That’s why we, the United States, have the Executive, the Legislative, and the Judicial branch. This system of checks-and-balances serves to—”

The Nagi in the middle suddenly spoke again. “Your system of checks and balances has fallen out of alignment. Your species, though independent, searches for leadership the way sheep follow a shepherd. This has led to your branches of government surrounding power steadily to the Executive Branch. Now your Congress, the Legislative Branch, is virtually useless. And the Judicial Branch, or the Supreme Court, has been filled with yes-men by the Executive Branch. Consequently, your system of checks-and-balances is in effect… worthless.”

Professor Shoemaker chuckled lightly to himself. “You sound like a Tea Party member,” he chortled. No one laughed. In fact, another Nagi spoke up.

“The Tea Party,” the Nagi sneered, “you are referring to a grassroots social movement that advocates for smaller government and less spending. I do not understand why your countrymen frequently admonish this group. Your nation, by our estimates, is on the brink of insolvency. All of your programs have failed. For example, the Department of Education has made your children less intelligent despite its budget tripling; the Department of Energy was created to lower dependence on foreign oil but that dependence has only increased; the United States Postal Service loses billions each month; AMTRAK has never made a profit; MEDICARE, MEDICAID, FANNIE MAE, and FREDDIE MAC are all multi-trillion dollar liabilities. And yet, your Federal Reserve believes the solution to this problem is to print more money, and thus go further into debt.” The Nagi leaned forward in his seat. He stared more intently at Professor Shoemaker. “I tell you now, humanity is lucky that we, the Nagi, found you first. If the Trishkal had come…”

The Nagi in the middle raised his hand to silence the other Nagi. The other Nagi quieted immediately.

I shook my head in disbelief. To me, the conversation thus far was music to my ears. Suddenly, I wasn’t the only Conservative in the room, or so it seemed. Usually, I was always in the minority. Whether it was a packed university hall, or in front of a camera at some discussion roundtable, I was always the political pariah. Heck, I couldn’t even watch a TV show or a movie anymore without having my principals villainized. So to be here, hearing a truly superior authority smash Liberal ideals to smithereens, was quite a lovely treat indeed.

“Look,” I interjected, “the problem I see with humanity is we are constantly trying to find the balance between the people and the government; individualism and collectivism; a centralized authority and a decentralized authority. Now, I believe man was made to be independent—to govern himself. This explains the fragmented nature of our species. So the issue of how best to govern ourselves is a simple one: make a government that is as small and as limited as possible for as long as possible so that the people can be as free as possible. From this organic freedom, which needs a little bit of a moral compass, but that’s a discussion for another time, people will rule themselves appropriately. This can be done a number of different ways, the most familiar of which is the Bill of Rights. But, we live in a more technologically advanced time, so we need an updated Bill of Rights—a version 2.0, if you will—in order to stop things like intrusive data-mining and eavesdropping by the government.

“We also need constitutional amendments that keep the government contained. Some examples of this would be: every politician and judge, even the Supreme Court judges, should have term limits; all government programs and agencies should sunset after a certain amount of years; and government itself should be capped at a maximum of 20% of a nation’s GDP—no matter what. Oh, and the tax code should be flat and fair. It should never be weaponized like it has been in the past. There shouldn’t even be an IRS… or a Federal Reserve... But, I’m digressing.

“So, back to my point, a lot of what’s going wrong with America right now is it is very polarized. On the one hand the government needs to be contained, but on the other a healthy nationalistic identity—not humanism, relativism, universalism—no, nationalism needs to be fostered.”

Professor Shoemaker scoffed. “Well that sounds very Fascist,” he said. I ignored him and continued.

“…this can be done by promoting state militias, requiring healthy individuals to serve in the military, and by explaining to the people how to live within their means, balance a budget, invest in retirement, and to celebrate the major holidays without having to worry about being political correct. But, all that aside, the most important thing is to limit the government. Limit it, and the people will be free. Hinder it, and the people will learn to stand on their own two feet. Shrink it, and the people will expand to new heights. It’s an inverse relationship, really; which means it’s mathematical; which means we can chart it and back it up with data; and we do have the data to show that I am right. Everything else is a theory and a half-truth.”

Susan laughed. My other colleagues remained silent. The Nagi, however, took a moment to exchange a series of looks between themselves. No one seemed to catch it, but I swore they were speaking telepathically to each other.

“This concludes our meeting, thank you for your time,” the one in the middle spoke abruptly. And with that, the Nagi stood to their feet and quietly exited the room. The four of us remained behind. We exchanged looks of our own—confused looks. Had we said something wrong?

The hotel staff turned off the humidifiers. One-by-one, they were rolled out of the conference room. One-by-one, my colleagues departed for the lobby with little thought or appreciation for the interstellar meeting they had just partaken in. I remained behind. Sitting in my chair, I tried hard to understand what had just happened. There was something off about it; but there was nothing I could do to delve deeper into the situation. It was out of my hands, beyond my control… above my pay grade.

As fate would have it, a year later, I—along with the rest of humanity—discovered the true purpose behind the information gathering the Nagi were doing. The Nagi revealed they were assessing the quality of our civilization for the purpose of advancing our place in the intergalactic community. Many life-forms, they said, were suited for promotion and ready to join the ranks of other spacefaring species. Many more, they explained, were too war-like, aggressive, or persecutional to be given the tools needed to travel the galaxy. Humanity, they surmised, had fallen somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. So for a people like us, who were willing but not necessarily ready for space travel, the Nagi had a protocol: they would accept volunteers.

Any man or woman who wanted to travel to the stars was at liberty to join the Nagi and the other species they had found and cultivated so long as they agreed to follow a strict set of rules. A volunteer must receive training, schooling, and mentor under the tutelage of their superiors. Volunteers must accept truly universal principals, such as: do not kill, do not steal, and do not lie. And above all, the volunteer must be willing to be what the Nagi called “Xen.”

Xen was a conglomeration of many different words: positive, independent, self-governing, virtuous, reliable, empathetic, rational, self-aware, perceptive, composed, even-tempered, observant; these were but a few of the words that encapsulated the essence of Xen. If someone wanted to be a master of the universe; if they wanted to wield technology that behaved like magic; then they must be these words. Many humans possessed the attributes of Xen, but many more gave into sloth, depravity, mind and mood altering substances, vengeance, and other forms of selfish irrationality. It was important to the Nagi that not just anyone was given the technology needed to explore the galaxy. After all, one way space travel was accomplished was through the creation of a miniature black hole. Should someone decide to weaponize this technology, it could easily destroy a small planet.

When the call for volunteers began, I signed up right away. I was in my early 30s; recently divorced; and childless by choice. My father had died of a cancer, and I didn’t speak to my mother. So, I was a free man. If I wanted to leave this world, I could. Nothing was holding me back.

The Nagi did a good job of cutting through the ineligible candidates using a variety of different personality tests. Since the majority of Americans were on anti-depressants or using medical marijuana, that ruled a lot of people out. By the time the Nagi got to me, I had already completed several of their tests, and I had answered several more of their essay questions. My results must have been sufficient, because I soon found myself walking onto a Nagi spaceship with several other candidates.

This particular Nagi ship was a shiny metallic orb whose metal-like façade rippled organically with each hum and vibration of the ship. It was almost cliché in the way it resembled a 1950s UFO. Each volunteer stepped into a single shaft of light beneath the orb and was levitated into the middle of the floating spacecraft. Once inside, the ship resembled a futuristic hotel room. Hallways led to rooms. Rooms contained tables, chairs, beds...

We were each escorted into separate rooms where an individual Nagi greeted us. Mine was female. There wasn’t much difference between the males and the females, though the females seemed to have more curved facial features as opposed to the sharper angles of the males.

The Nagi introduced herself to me before she asked me to sit down. She explained a simulation was about to begin, and that depending on how I responded would determine if I advanced in the program or not.

“Usually a candidate will experience a dozen simulations during his or her probation period,” she explained, “but you will only experience two. Are you ready?”

“Why only two?” I asked, my brow furrowing with interest.

She simply nodded toward the table I stood beside and said “please, take a seat, take a hold, and we will begin.”

I didn’t hesitate. I sat down immediately. Situated in front of me were two joysticks. I reached out with my hands and I grabbed a hold of them. An odd buzzing sensation suddenly entered my body. Then, I felt very warm. My muscles relaxed. I slumped forward into my chair and I closed my eyes. The Nagi in front of me began to read the simulation out loud to me. That’s when I realized what was happening. I was in some kind of heightened hypnotic state. Each word she spoke painted a vivid picture inside my mind. It was like I was dreaming, but I had control of the dream. So long as the Nagi kept talking, the vision in my mind remained fluid.

At the beginning of the simulation, I found myself standing in a large crowd of people. They were jeering at something. I followed the direction of their gazes to the source of the heckling. A man was pleading for his life while several other men kicked at him. Each time the man sat up, he was knocked back down to the ground by another blow. The longer the people cheered, the more violent the blows became. Eventually, the blows were constant and the man wasn’t getting back up anymore. I did the only thing I could: I rushed forward and I slipped in between the kicking and the stomping. I covered the helpless bloodied man with my body and I cried, “stop, you animals! stop!”

“Next simulation,” said the Nagi, and she painted the next picture.

I was breathing faster now. My heart-rate was up. I focused on the Nagi’s words as she spoke to me. This new vision she cultured in my mind was more intense than the first. I found myself standing in the middle of a large white throne room. I was a king, and as such, I was embellished with a heavy crimson robe, a golden suit of armor, and a large matching crown. There were many people gathered around me. The women stared at me with enticing gazes, and the men looked eager to agree with anything I said. Servants stepped forward with refreshments. I took a seat in a large marble chair and basked in the glory of my own radiance.

At the other end of the throne room, poorly dressed and down-trodden people slowly entered through a pair of vaulted double doors. One by one, they pleaded cases to me, and I settled them as judge and jury. Each time I decided on a case, the “yes men” around me broke into applause. They complimented me and told me how wise I was.

Initially, the cases were trivial, but after several bouts they became more and more complicated. Just when I seemed uncomfortable with the whole matter, just when I seemed on the verge of saying “I’m not qualified to decide this, let a jury of your peers rule on the matter,” a scantily clad woman entered my view. She started to seduce me. She said she was bored and she was tired of all of this drudgery. She wanted me to come to her chambers, where things would be much more entertaining. But the people before me pleaded their cases all the more. “Please sir!” one said, “what should we do? I need an answer! Only you can settle this!”

I was torn. And yet, somehow, I became incensed. “Guards!” I shouted, “get this woman away from me! Who let her here in the first place?” I then turned my attention to the “yes-men” around me. “Get away from me!” I yelled, “and go do something better with your time besides fawn over me.” I threw off my robe and I shot to my feet. I stepped down into the people, and I began to listen to them—really listen. As I heeded their words, we started to move as a unified group out of the throne room and into the real world beyond, where I could see with my own eyes the harsh realities they were talking about.

“The simulation is now over,” the Nagi in front of me said.

The warm buzz I felt in my body ended. I relaxed into my seat and I opened my eyes. The female Nagi dismissed herself from the room. I stayed behind in my chair… contemplating what I had just experienced. Before long, I scoffed lightly at myself. I could see what the Nagi were doing here, and it amazed me how easily I had given into temptation.

“The human condition,” I muttered to myself.

For several minutes, I sat alone in the room. I barely noticed when the doors slid open and another figure appeared. He slipped through the doorway in a quick gait. He came to a stop beside me. To my surprise, I saw it was the Nagi who had done most of the talking the day I and three of my colleagues had convened at a hotel conference room to discuss politics. 

“Well, hello,” I said in greeting, “a pleasure to see you again.” I stood to my feet. “How have you been?”

“I am well,” said the Nagi with little emotion. “I have a proposition for you.”

I raised an eyebrow curiously into the air. “Okay,” I replied, “I’m listening.”

The Nagi settled into a more comfortable pose. He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight to his left hip.

“You failed most of our personality tests,” he explained, “which disqualifies you from the majority of what we have to offer. However, you did well on the simulations, and you are a staunch advocate for many of the values we uphold. So you have not been entirely ruled out.”

I nodded my head. “Okay,” I muttered unsurely in response.

“One thing we like to do for less technologically advanced species,” the Nagi continued, “is we like to ensure their survival. We will be leaving soon, but we will not be entirely gone. One day, humanity may face a cataclysmic event. If it is an extinction-level event that is not voluntarily induced, mankind may summon us for assistance.

“However, there is something else we like to do for a species that has not yet colonized another planet. We like to create a settlement for them. This ensures the continuation of the species in the event extinction does occur on the homeworld. We have a habitable plant selected for you, and we are in the process of selecting colonists for it. You, along with several other like-minded individuals, have been designated to serve in a mayoral capacity for this settlement. In essence, we are looking for someone to get it up and running with a government that is as small as possible and as limited as possible so that humanity can be as free as possible for as long as possible… on this new homeworld.”

The Nagi cocked his head to the side. Perhaps it was their way of smirking. I couldn’t help but smile at him. He had quoted me, after all.

“I could think of no higher honor,” was my response.

The Nagi returned to a more rigid posture. “Very well,” he replied, “this room is now your quarters. You will be assigned clothing and other personal items. You will learn the technology needed for your colony to survive and thrive. Understood?”

I nodded my head again, though this time with a little more enthusiasm.

“Understood,” I said.

The Nagi offered me his hand. “Good luck,” he said, “I won’t see you again.” He spoke with finality in his voice now. I shook his hand. He exited the room without saying another word. Indeed, I never saw him again.

A year later, I learned the basic skillsets I would need to run the day-to-day operations of the colony. Other, more specialized colonists, like the doctors and the engineers, were taught the more advanced technology. All of the tech was intuitive though, like an Apple product. Without a doubt, it would have put a smile on Steve Jobs’ face.

Before launching to our new homeworld, the mayoral candidates, myself included, had to agree upon a system of governance for the colony. We gathered inside a special conference room and we started the lengthy process of establishing how best to survive and thrive upon our brave new world. For several hours, each person pleaded passionately for their ideas. Lines were drawn. Alliances were formed, broken, and remade. Objects were thrown. People had to be separated. When a consensus was reached, we agreed to get behind the idea regardless of how we felt so that a unified front was ultimately formed.

Unbeknownst to us, the colonists were watching the entirety of our debate. Afterwards, a secret ballet was held and each candidate was rated on a scale of 1-to-10. The candidate with the highest accumulated score was elected the first mayor of the first human space colony. That person… was me.

After the debate, and after I had given a short acceptance speech, I watched some of the footage from the conference room.

“Listen,” I saw myself saying on the screen, “the main thing that has hindered humanity the most is Liberalism. Forget the social aspects of Liberalism and just look at how Democrats in the United States succeeded in creating a dependent, dumbed-down, and ill-informed electorate. So how do we prevent this in the government we are creating? Well, for starters, we never ever, ever federalize education again. Each person is unique, and to standardize the human intellect is to waste human ingenuity. Also, we have to prevent school districts from trapping people. If a mom wants to send her child to a school outside of her school district then she should be allowed to do just that. But hey, if a family wants to home school their children, then they should be allowed to do that as well, and they shouldn’t have to keep paying taxes to support public schools if that’s what they choose to do, too.

“Now, just saying this crap and making it law isn’t enough. Before the Nagi came, our Supreme Court in the United States voted 4-to-3 to uphold the right to keep and bear arms. How on earth was it even that close? The Bill of Rights says ‘the right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.’ That’s simple. That’s plain. That’s black-and-white. And yet, the Supreme Court was 4-to-3 on that issue. That’s crazy! But that’s how crazy government can get. So it’s not enough to simply say: education shall never be federalized. What has to happen is, there needs to be an immediate consequence for anyone who brings up the issue of federalizing education, or anything else for that matter. So, if we’re going to create a Bill of Rights or an amendment for this colony regarding this issue, it needs to say: education shall never be federalized, parents may put their children in whatever school they choose and can afford, if they choose to home school their children they will not have to pay taxes to support public schooling, and anyone in the future who brings up or attempts to federalize the education system will receive an automatic one year prison sentence at their state’s penitentiary, and it will be the responsibility of local militia—not the FBI, CIA, NSA, DHS, TSA—no, the militia, made up of trained citizens, to capture that person or persons and to bring them into the penal system.

“The militia, by the way, is something I would love to see play a more prominent role in society. Imagine if there was an annual competition in each state that tested each militia so that the top 10 in each state could carry out certain specific law enforcement duties. That would be utterly amazing. The people would love to see one of their own removing a corrupt politician from office, providing disaster relief, or auditing various government agencies.”

I waved my hand and the video disappeared from the monitor. I stared blankly at the screen for a minute. It wasn’t until a message appeared on my monitor that I snapped back to attention.  

Time for departure. Proceed to extraction zone, the message read.

At last, it was time to leave. A new world awaited us. I grabbed my belongings and I made for the exit. My gait was quick as I walked down the large hallway that led to the extraction zone. Others filed into the corridor with me. As we walked, adrenaline surged into my veins. I felt a feeling of excitement and wonder. Was I… overwhelmed? No, that wasn’t the right word, but it was close. I was a mayor, a president, and a colonist on the first human space colony. How had such a reasonability befallen me? I was ready for the journey, of course. But, I couldn’t help but want to fall to my knees and… pray? Yes, that was it. As I walked down the corridor before me, I suddenly darted into a nearby restroom. I hid myself inside one of the stalls. I raised my hands. I bowed my head. And I closed my eyes.

“Please God,” I breathed, “I can’t do anything right unless You’re doing it with me.”

For several minutes, I prayed and I gave glory to God. Once my spirit had quieted down, I left the stall and I joined the others filing into the extraction zone.

“Good idea,” someone said to me as they saw me departing from the bathroom, “best to have an empty bladder for this sort thing.”

I laughed.

When we reached the new homeworld, we discovered most of the buildings had already been setup for us by the Nagi. All we had to do was decide which home belonged to whom. It was a fun and festive first day. Spirits were high, so we spent the night celebrating. Over the next 48-hours, everyone became deathly sick as our immune systems struggled to adapt to the alien environment. The Nagi had given us immune boosters prior to our landing. The medicine paid off, and after a few days, everything returned to normal, so that by the end of the first week the colony was up and running.

My job as mayor was designed to be a humbling experience. I worked from home so I could avoid all the pomp that traditionally came with being the leader of a city. So no official office was built, and I made sure no plans were coming down the pike. Public service was supposed to be a privilege, not a perk. By design, and thoroughly reinforced under my administration, every citizen was supposed to be equal under the law. Any politician who proposed anything to the contrary was to be apprehended by the militia and delivered into the hands of the nearest penal system for an automatic one-year prison sentence.

By design, everyone was given a health savings account, a regular savings account, and a retirement account. The health savings account was to be used only for medical expenses; the savings account could only be accessed once every three months; and the retirement account was available for access upon reaching the age of 55. Any politician who proposed anything to the contrary, or attempted to access these accounts, was to be apprehended by the militia and delivered into the hands of the nearest penal system for an automatic one-year prison sentence.

By design, the only difference between the colonists was their health insurance and their citizenship ranking. Health insurance was divided into a variety of categories. “A” was the simplest and the least expensive. But for someone like me, who wanted cancer coverage, I needed a little more than what category “A” had to offer. So, Category “C” is what I preferred. It didn’t have mental health coverage though, but that was okay by me. I could never make sense of psychologists, since they only ever told you what you already knew. But, in the event I ever wanted to pour my heart out to a paid professional, I only had to wait a month for open enrollment. Then, I could change my category. And no, there were no penalties for preexisting conditions.

Citizenship rankings, on the other hand, were a particularly proud achievement of mine. In order to ensure the government remained of the people, for the people, and by the people; in order to avoid all the drama and all the scandals that came with elections; and in order to avoid having an uninformed electorate make unconscionable voting decisions; I decided each citizen needed to earn the right and the privilege to vote by passing state and national exams on an annual basis. Exams were to be 20 questions in length and of an unbiased, apolitical nature. If you passed the state exam, you could vote for state and local issues. If you passed the national exam, you could vote for national issues. If you didn’t want to take the time to learn current issues, or the basic principles of civic duty, then you didn’t get to vote. If you took the state and the national exams, passed, and you wanted to go into politics, then you could take a third exam. The purpose of the third exam was to exhort the philosophical principals of Objectivism and Capitalism. If a person passed all three exams, they would join a pool of candidates, who would then be selected by a lottery system to fulfill government position. The only exception to this process was the executive branch. It was the only time popular vote was to be used to elect a politician. Everything else got the lottery—everything.

Day and night, I pondered how best to operate the government. I wanted our fledging Constitutional Republic to succeed where others had failed. My constant musing quickly became an impressive force upon my mind. In order to distract myself, I went wherever someone was short-handed. In doing so, I worked all manner of odd jobs until I became known as a “Jack of all Trades” among the colonists.

When the work day was done, I would check-in on the new moms; I would clean the sidewalks; and I would say hello to any passersby. At night, I stooped over a computer and I continued to ponder the fate our colony. I tried to see the future. I searched the past for examples, since—as they say—the past is prologue. Whenever an idea popped into my mind, I flushed it out. If it was a solid idea, I would go to Congress, I would make a speech, and a bill would be introduced. Most of my ideas went into law, but there were some things I just couldn’t figure out. For instance, I had a tough time deciding how to combat wage disparities. Just because someone was in management didn’t mean they were entitled to a vastly superior paycheck. And yet, as a capitalist, I never wanted to interfere with a company’s ability to run itself in the most organic and efficient manner possible. But abuses have occurred between the employer and the employee—and vice versa. I recommended unions be permanently banned, but that a government and private agency audit a company every year and rate them A through F on their quality, worth ethic, and financial health so that investors and prospective employees would have a better understanding of the company. Ultimately, Congress decided to keep the unions, but it agreed they would sunset after five years. They did like the idea of companies being graded by federal and private agencies, though. So, that passed.

On one particularly chilly night, while I was lost in thought and roaming the streets, someone stopped me to ask if I wanted their coat. I smiled and I said “no, my love of country keeps me warm.” It was around that time that I knew what it meant to be a patriot. My pride, my loyalty, and my hope in what we were building gave me a warmth that affected me on so many different levels. It reminded me of the post-apocalyptic novel “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy. The father in the book kept telling his son “we carry the fire” without explicitly explaining what the fire was. I imagine the fire represented the light of civilization; for it is our roads, our walls, and our industry that keep the darkness and the cold of the wild at bay.

And we were in a wild new world. At any given moment, the people may turn to government for the answer. One natural disaster, and the people may cry for increased taxes to restore what was lost. They may forget to rely on each other and their churches to pull through. One stock market crash, and the people may shout for more government oversight, regulation, and bailouts. The people may forget the free market is alive and ever evolving. They may forget how, if left to its own devices, the market will right its wrongs; because someone always wants to be the man or the woman with the answer. Someone always wants to make a buck. Someone always wants to make life better for their family and friends. In doing so, change occurs; and from that change there is renewal, restoration… improvement.

Years went by.

Less and less of my ideas became accepted or necessary because most of the holes in the dam had been plugged. By the end of my term, I was confident the nation I had helped to create would last longer than the 300 years America did. So I turned to welding. I put roads and bridges together, and in my spare time I made art from the scrap metal.

Years and years went by.

From time to time, I would check in on Earth to see what the rest of humanity was doing. The news was always the same, though. Eventually, I stopped checking in. There was nothing more to be learned from that decaying world.

Years went by.

We carried the fire for as long and as far as we could.