Until 205 A.L., that is. In that year, Lucy had an accident, picking up enough radiation to fry a dozen ordinary people her size. If it hadn’t been for paratronic stasis, a fast spaceship, and the skills of Confederate medicine, this universe would have been deprived of one of its most interesting—and irritating—inhabitants.
Lucy recovered just fine, except that she had to sit out her fourth—or was it fifth?—regeneration. Almost alone in this country, Lucy had been growing old. It took several years for her cellular metabolism to settle down before she could have her youth reinstalled. During that time, she retired, moving back to Laporte. She met Ed, got to know him. He got to know her.
I might have realized she’d be a cradle robber, too.
Once Lucy’s a pretty young thing again, she and my erstwhile partner will be heading back into space, toward a million ice-cold rocks just waiting to be turned into gold mines by aggressive pioneers like Lucille Gallegos Kropotkin and Edward William Bear.
I hope they remember to write. I’ll miss Ed; I never had a brother before. And I’ll miss Lucy, for all her ridiculous advice and uncalled-for opinions. Just this afternoon, she was at it again.
“But Lucy,” I said, exasperated as usual, “you can’t call Americans warlike, exactly. We went to all kinds of trouble to avoid war. More, sometimes, than we should have.”
“And still managed ten or eleven real good ones!” she snorted. “That, plus all your rules and regulations, put you a hundred years behind us and at about three percent of our standard of living.” She rolled a cigar in her fingers, listening to the tobacco. “Anyway, I never said your people are warlike, Winnie. People don’t cause wars, governments do. Eliminate governments—hell, just eliminate conscription and taxation—and you eliminate war. Simple as that!”
“Bullshit!” She had a disconcerting habit, pacing toward my blind side, and I was tired of craning my neck. “You anarchists managed plenty of wars on your own. Look at the War in Europe, or the one with the Czar.”
“Whoa there, boy! The last war we fought as a nation was in Mexico, and we were still the old United States, then. The Confederacy ain’t a nation, and it doesn’t fight wars.”
“Oh? Well, who does, then?”
“Governments, son, like I said. ‘Twas a Prussian government decided to gobble up Europe. Same with the Czar in Antarctica. Every fight we’ve stumbled into has been that way, from the Revolution to this silly thing with the Hamiltonians: individuals tryin’ to stop what some damn fool government started. Look at the Whiskey Rebellion. But all that’s done, now. We’re never likely to see a war again. Every time some overorganized gang of highway robbers decided to push people around, us raggedly and disorganized anarchists smashed ’em good and proper!”
“Lucy, you’ve got an answer handy for everything. I can’t argue with you.”
“Sure y’can, Winnie, it’s a free world, ain’t it?”
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 211 A.L.
Lucy still thinks we’ve seen the last of the Hamiltonians, although there’s no guarantee that we killed them all in that explosion.
But even if Madison had gotten everything he wanted from SecPol, I now think he would have lost anyway. Most Confederates would have taken to the hills, fought for centuries if necessary, rather than surrender to tyranny. And nobody in this crazy quilt of a country has the authority to surrender. Nobody. Eventually that would have driven Madison or his successors nuts. As it is, the few hypothetical surviving Federalists have other problems: their leaders are dead. People like Federalists need leaders. Confederates don’t. That’s why they’ll always win.
Lucy says it’s the next evolutionary step. We carried government with us from the trees, and later we hunted in packs, like dogs. We don’t require that kind of social organization any more. True, without any official sanction, we fumbled Madison to a standstill. But does natural selection favor anarchy? Go ask Lucy. She’s got plenty of opinions.
I’m satisfied: I finally found out where the two worlds split; though, damn it, I’m no closer to understanding why.
Clarissa and I were recuperating at ten thousand feet, but hadn’t done much skiing. It’s difficult with one eye—you wind up intimately acquainted with a lot of trees. Going over the Telecom’s version of history and Deejay’s almanac had cleared up one mystery, though: July second is the correct date, in both worlds!—Confederate historians are just a little more accurate. That’s when independence was really declared, at the instigation of Richard Henry Lee and John Adams. The document explaining what they’d done was adopted on the fourth.
“Win? … Honey? Look here. I wonder if this means anything.”
“Zzzzz!—What? What’s that?” I rubbed my good eye and sat up beside her. It’s nice having a lady who reads in bed till 4 A.M., too.
“This almanac and the Telecom don’t agree.”
“Neither do we, sometimes, but there are compensations.” I leaned over and bit her on the ear. “Anything to eat around here—besides each other?”
“I’m serious, you one-track, single-minded …”
“Flatfoot?”
“Thank heavens it’s only your feet, darling. Now where was I? Oh, yes: ‘Drafting the Declaration was assigned to Thomas Jefferson … Congress suggested a number of changes, which Jefferson called deplorable … eighty-six changes, eliminating 480 words, and leaving 1,337.”’
“Yeah, I remember that. Nitpickers bitching that there’s no such word as ‘unalienable.’”
“Yes, but look at the Telecom. I’ve retrieved a similar entry, essentially the same information, except for the numbers.”
“How’s that?” I fished my cloak off the end of the bed, looking for a cigar.
“Well, they both agree that Congress eliminated 480 words, but the ’com says that left 1,338. There’s an extra word somewhere in our Declaration—one that’s not in yours.”
“Or someone miscounted. Lemme see that thing. How the hell do you get it to—goddamned buttons!”
“Those are my pajama buttons, lecher!” She giggled and took the pad, made a few adjustments, and there it was.
“Swell. How do we find a surplus ‘and’ or ‘etc.’ in all that mess?”
“Et cetera is two words, illiterate one. But no need to hunt—” She passed the scanner over the almanac, punched out COMPARE /SEARCH on the keyboard. The screen dimmed and the word OPERATING appeared. I took this opportunity for some applied lechery, marveling all over again at the miracle that had brought Clarissa into my life. Ooloorie talks blithely about going off to fight, but as for me …
The screen split, showing nearly identical documents side by side, the handwriting far too small to read, one tiny, illegible word blinking on and off. Clarissa punched ZOOM. The vital paragraphs leaped into visibility, the U.S.A.’s on the right, the Confederacy’s on the left:
… Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the …
“There it is!” I paused. “But what the hell does it mean? Is this what I’ve been searching for, what made all the difference?”
She shrugged. “Well, the sentences do have rather different implications, don’t they?”
I thought about that. Yes, if each were followed to the letter. I read “my” version aloud: “ … deriving their just powers from the—”
“—unanimous!—” Clarissa supplied from hers.
“—consent of the governed,” I finished. “‘The unanimous consent of the governed.’ Back home, consent usually means the result of an election. One side wins, the other loses.”
“And a lot of other sides,” Clarissa added, “don’t get any hearing at all. Of the minority eligible, only a few actually vote, especially the way they would if they had a completely free choice of candidates or issues—things that never get on the ballot, somehow. And of those few, only slightly over half will win. The real majority always loses. Consent of the governed? Confe
derate delegates represent themselves and only those others who publicly and explicitly give them permission to do so.”
“The unanimous consent of the governed,” I repeated.
“Win, why do you suppose Jefferson added that one extra word?”
“I don’t know. It would explain Gallatin’s supporting the Whiskey Rebellion. Unanimous consent? Ask those Pennsylvania farmers! Try getting any bunch of people,” I paraphrased Lucy, “to agree unanimously on anything! No wonder your government is so harmless and impotent!”
“Unlike somebody I know. But they all agreed on the Declaration, didn’t they?”
“That’s what it says at the top, anyway: ‘A Unanimous Declaration.’ But why? Why that one word?”
Philosophers have debated the causes of human behavior: heredity or environment? Are heroes and villains made or born? Confederate school children know that nature and nurture are only part of the answer, two-thirds, to be exact. The remaining third, taken as axiomatic here, is individual free will. They don’t dismiss it as an illusion, or a whimsical choice between trivial alternatives.
Between chocolate and vanilla.
There’s only one act of free will, they say here, a decision which determines everything else: to think or not to think. Precisely, to engage in the formulation and manipulation of concepts: abstractions, generalizations. Mentation. Cognition. Remember how you had to force yourself to do that algebra homework? It was an effort of will. You can feel it operating if you give yourself half a chance.
To think or not to think: if you decide upon the latter, then it’s back to good old heredity and environment again, by default. They’ll call the tune if you don’t call it for yourself. Everybody is motivated by some constantly shifting mixture of the three, different for each of us, at each minute in our lives. In human terms, this is the basis for all causation, for all reality—the one I’m living in now, or the one I was born into.
History isn’t determined by some mysterious impersonal machinery, but by people deciding whether to use their minds or slough it off. In this world, Jefferson decided to insert that one little word. Win Bear and Ed Bear don’t exist in twinned reality because they’re both Indians, but because they—their ancestors—decided they would, history be damned. That’s why there are two Jennies, two Marion Morrisons, two Mark Twains. A Smith & Wesson beats four aces; human will beats random chance. The mystical forces of history are so much buffalo dung, a fact both encouraging and a little scary. The old alibis won’t wash any more: we’re responsible, and nothing’s ever written indelibly on that wall.
Death and taxes? Forget it. Gallatin took care of taxes, and Clarissa and her colleagues are taking care of death. Average life span in this crazy place is up around three hundred, but no one’s taking any bets, because by the time you’ve made three hundred, what will they have invented to see you through a thousand, or ten thousand?
What’ll they think of next?
I’m growing a new eyeball, but it’s even more exciting to look at the mirror each morning and see the wrinkles and the bald spot fading. And Clarissa tells me the ulcer’s gone.
Having choices makes a difference. People with options fare better than people with “discipline.” That’s why I add the following, at the specific, and unanimous, request of the Seventh Continental Congress:
You Propertarians have a choice. You can stand and fight, and we’ll help you. But if you’re like me, and you’d rather go fish, Deejay’s Broach is a two-way proposition. The Confederacy lacks a lot of American “necessities”: border guards, customs inspectors, naturalization. Strangers are welcome here.
We’ll see you around—unless Clarissa and I decide to follow our friends out to the stars. We’ve got centuries to make up our minds.
And so do you. Maybe more.
What’ll they think of next? In a society where no one is afraid to try thinking for a change, you never can tell.
But there’s plenty of time to wait and see for yourself.
The Tor edition of The Probability Broach is dedicated, with more love and thanks than I can adequately express, to the individuals—and individualists—who helped to make it possible: Robert Adams, Imad A. Ahmad, David Anderson, Elizabeth Anderson, Poul Anderson, David R. Blackmon, Walter Block, John Blundell, Alan W. Bock, David M. Brown, Gene W Cahill, Joe Cobb, Kevin Cullinane, Brian Daley, Gordon R. Dickson, K. Eric Drexler, James R. Elwood, Frank Kelly Freas, Eric Geislinger, Alexis Gilliland, Dean A. Grennell, John T. Harllee, Karl Hess, Jim and Jackie Hogan, Jeffrey Rogers Hummel, Len Jackson, Victor Koman, Samuel Edward Konkin III, Brad Linaweaver, Carol Low, Roger Lea MacBride, Rex F. May, Wendy McElroy, Victor W. Milan, Vincent H. Miller, Carol Mitchell, Tonie Nathan, John Newman, Peter Pautz, Jim Pickett, Robert W. Poole, Jr., Jerry Rakusan, Sheldon Richman, Lucia St. Clair Robson, J. Neil Schulman, Robert Shea, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Lannon Stafford, John Stith, Vernor Vinge, Richard Warner, Carl Watner, F. Paul Wilson, J. Barclay Wood, and especially to Andrea Millen Rich.
Quotations attributed to the otherworld alter-egos of individuals infamous or merely famous in our own universe are fictitious, and entirely the responsibility of the author.—L.N.S.
Books by L. Neil Smith
1The Probability Broach
The Venus Belt
Their Majesties’ Bucketeers
The Nagasaki Vector
Tom Paine Maru
The Gallatin Divergence
Lando Calrissian and the Mindharp of Sharu
Lando Calrissian and the Flamewind of Oseon
Lando Calrissian and the Starcave of Thonboka
The Wardove
BrightSuit MacBear
Taflak Lysandra
Contact and Commune
Converse and Conflict
1The Crystal Empire
1Henry Martyn
1Pallas
2The Mitzvah
Forge of the Elders
2Hope
Lever Action
1The American Zone
“Once again, L. Neil Smith shows why he is a favorite among Libertarian SF fans. He does not compromise on his politics; his action sequences are riveting and breathless, and the background immaculate. Bretta Martyn is pure adventure, mixed in with great ideas.”
—Anders Monsen, Prometheus on Bretta Martyn
“Bretta Martyn displays L. Neil Smith at his best.”
—Mike Resnick on Bretta Martyn
“Smith blends intergalactic action, heroics, and derring-do into a futuristic political thriller, and the result is a delight: piracy in high space, penned with panache.”
—Publishers Weekly on Henry Martyn
“Reads like the best-remembered popular novels of this or any other age … Well worth a look … The action sequences are graphic and well-handled.”
—Amarillo Sunday News-Globe on Henry Martyn
“You can depend on Smith for audacious escapades and rollicking storytelling, interstellar politics and dynamic characters … . Splendid!”
—Laissez Faire Books on Pallas
“Pallas is great fun, one of the most entertaining books I’ve read in a long time.”
—Bill O’Brien, Guns and Ammo on Pallas
Appendix:
A Brief Historical Outline3
In 1796 C.E., with Revision of the Articles of Confederation underway again, Thomas Jefferson proposed a new calendar to mark Albert Gallatin’s ascension to the presidency. Gallatin protested that the real Revolution was in 1776, that the Federalist period should be regarded as an aberration, and that commemorating, even by implication, the execution of George Washington might set a hideous precedent.
In its final form, the Jefferson-Gallatin compromise utilizes 1776 as its “Year Zero.” Dates prior to the Declaration of Independence continue numbered as they were before, sometimes followed by C.E. for “Christian Era.”
A.L. C.E. EVENTS
0 1776 Declaration of Independence (July 2); Revolution begins.
7 1783 Treaty of
Paris (Sept. 3); Revolution ends.
11 1787 Federalists under Hamilton, Jay, Madison meet in Philadelphia, illegally adopt new “Constitution” creating strong central government.
12 1788 Ratification by ninth and last necessary state (New Hampshire).
13 1789 Constitution in force; Hamilton Secretary of Treasury to George Washington.
15 1791 Hamilton’s Excise Tax passes; angry Pennsylvania farmers rally at Brownsville for beginning of countercoup.
16 1792 Pittsburgh Convention of antitax forces; Washington issues warning proclamation; farmers tarring and feathering tax collectors.
18 1794 15,000 federal troops ordered against farmers; Albert Gallatin joins rebellion; Washington shot in Philadelphia; Constitution declared null and void; Gallatin proclaimed President; Hamilton disappears.
19 1795 Caretaker government organized; Gallatin declares general amnesty; all taxes repealed; property and rights restored to Federalists, Tories.
20 1796 Gallatin confirmed by Congress; calls for neutral stance between England and France, humane Indian policies, and revision of Articles.
21 1797 New Articles ratified with emphasis on civil and economic rights; Northwest Territory “land certificates” liquidate war debts; governments otherwise forbidden to coin or print money.
24 1800 Gallatin re-elected (second term); Jeffersonian weights and measures.
27 1803 Gallatin and Monroe arrange Louisiana Purchase, borrowing from private sources against value of land.
28 1804 Gallatin re-elected (third term): Hamilton killed in Prussian duel; Stevens invents steamboat.
30 1806 England attempts to restrict shipping; Gallatin commissions privateers to defend American vessels.
31 1807 French uphold American sea rights; Chesapeake drives off British war vessels; Forsyth invents percussion system for firearms; English outlaw slave trade; Jefferson begins antislavery crusade.