eff sat on a bench on the Mall near the National Gallery in D.C., wondering whether any of the reps he had contacted using the pseudonym Drake Martin would come and talk with him. Would this name sound like it belonged to a real person? Already two had failed to show, and the Green Party’s Amanda Klein from California was late. He had crossed the first two names off the list in his notebook, and was on the point of crossing Amanda’s off, too, when he took another anxious look toward the Capitol building, and noticed an attractive, casually-dressed woman, somewhat too young, he thought, to be a member of Congress, about a hundred feet away, walking in his direction. Her wavy blonde hair tossed about in the breeze. She had a concerned, undecided look on her face. Then it happened. A flash of light erupted from the right side of the Capitol building. He looked, mesmerized, until a few seconds later the roar of the explosion arrived, and he clamped his hands over his ears.

   The woman turned around to gape for a few seconds at the collapsing blue roof of the House chamber, before just standing there in a daze. Around her people were running in all directions. Jeff, too, was immobilized, as it sunk in that what he had wanted to warn America about had actually happened. After a minute or so he noticed the woman, still standing there, staring at the flames licking out from the ruins of the House chamber, and the pall of smoke above. He walked over and touched her on the shoulder. She didn’t move.
   “Are you Amanda Klein?” She turned around, and began to emerge from her shocked daze. “The Amanda Klein I asked to meet me here?”
   “Yes . . . I am. You must be Drake Martin?”
   “Yes.”
   “So, is this what you wanted to warn me about?”
   “Yes.”
   “What the hell’s happened? Why. . .?”
   “I think we need to get away from here. My car’s further down the Mall. Do you want to come with me? And we can talk about it in a while when we get over the shock?”
   “OK. I do want to talk to you . . . I’ll come.”
   They set off at a walk, but soon were running. The Mall seemed strangely deserted to Amanda, as if its very soul had left it. She sensed it was the end of an era. She slowed down a little to take in the new bleak atmosphere, so different from before, and began to fall behind.
   “Hey, don’t run so fast! My shoes aren’t up for it.”
   “Sorry, we’re nearly there.” He slowed to a fast walk. “Being out here in the open is giving me the creeps.”

   They sat in his car, recovering their breath, and started to calm down a little. After a minute or so, Amanda said,
   “I guess I’ve got you to thank for saving my life . . . I’d have been in there.”
   “Huh. If more members of Congress had taken me seriously, like you did, maybe the bombing could have been prevented. I sat there for over an hour while two congressmen didn’t show up.”
   “Really? But that’s hardly surprising. I thought you were a crank myself. But some niggling feeling — call it intuition — told me I ought to go meet you anyway.”
   “Then I’d say your intuition saved your life.”
   “That . . . and you. Thank you.”
   “You’re welcome.”
   “So, tell me how you knew this was going to happen?”
   “I was tipped off. I wasn’t told exactly when, just that it would be soon . . . You know, hundreds of people must have died in there.”
   “Yes . . . Hundreds . . . And quite a few of my friends among them. You know, even if you don’t agree with them politically, you get to know them. And after all, they are people — and every person is precious. It takes all types to make a world. A lot of them will be gone forever, and even more will be . . . injured. I don’t even want to think about what it’s like in there. If there was something I could do I’d go right back now, but I know the emergency crews will be there. I would just be in the way, and need to be rescued myself. I just have to accept feeling helpless.”
   “Yes. Me, too.”
   “And maybe the most useful thing I can do now is finding out what you know about it all.”
   “Well, I’ll tell you what I know.”
   “I don’t know why this has popped into my head. It’s going to sound insensitive and silly. But maybe it might just be relevant.”
   “What?”
   “It’s this: it’s occurred to me that this terror attack is like the ending of one of Tom Clancy’s novels.”
   “That’s not so silly. I even know the one you mean, where the plane crashing into the Capitol building sets the scene for the next novel. The World Trade Center was like that, too, with the planes being used as bombs. It was just a different target. This time the target’s the same as the book.”
   “So you can see it, too.”
   “Sure. I guess it’s possible the 9/11 terrorists, and the militia responsible for this, both got ideas from that book. Both times, of course, the way they did it was different enough to make it unexpected.”
   “The ‘militia responsible for this’? You know who they are, then?”
   “Well, I don’t know any names, but I do know it was a Christian-Right para-military group, and some congressmen they were working with.”
   “How do you know that?”
   “My father’s an influential person in the religious right, active in the Republican Party. He hinted at it. Then I phoned an old school friend of mine who’s attending Bible college to become a pastor. He has connections with the militias. He’d heard of it, too, and filled me in on the plan. You see, I’m supposed to be one of them, or they would never have told me about it. I went to the same Christian college, and have been teaching at a Christian high school.”
   “A fundi with a conscience. So, you were going to tell me all this?”
   “Well, yes!” Jeff gave a little exasperated laugh. “I told you in my fax the whole of Congress was in danger.”
   “And you wanted to talk to a member of congress about it. Why didn’t you just phone the FBI?”
   “I did phone them, a couple of times. They said they would look into it, but I totally got the impression they thought I was a crank, and were not going to give me the time of day. They said security was already very high around the Capitol building, and had been since 9/11. And I think they just out-and-out dismissed it when I said the bomb might be carried in by a congressman.” “Well, it does sound crazy . . . Still, there were a few other members of Congress leaving the building when I did. And come to think of it, they were mostly those extreme neocon GOPs I despise.” She realized with a chill that his explanation jived with what she knew. “I thought it was just that they didn’t want to hear the president speak any more than I did, since he is, in their eyes, a relatively ‘moderate’ Republican — not that I would call him moderate — and they . . . Oh my God! The president — he may have been in there already!”
   “Huh. I wouldn’t be surprised — that was the plan: to have the vice-president, who is one of them, become president. Though the president was conservative, and pandered to the religious right, he wasn’t reactionary enough for the fanatics. And they considered him incompetent — along with just about everyone else! They wanted their man in. And, needless to say, the veep would have been safely away from the scene at one of his undisclosed secure locations.”
   “Of course. To keep the conservatives happy, and balance the ticket, the president took a running mate from the far right, and kept him as vice president into his second term. What a mistake that may have turned out to have been.”
   “Yes. Well that was because the veep was always the boss, and nearly always dictated what happened. But it was an awkward, roundabout way to have to govern. Now he’ll get to be seen as the boss. But getting back to their plan. It was to have the vice president take over, declare a state of emergency, and rule by martial law until they fix up the ‘moral decay’ they believe is destroying America.”
   “Jesus! I can see it now. It’s actually starting to make sense . . . And if that’s what happened . . .” One side of her wanted to get back there and at least try to help, see if her staff were OK, report what she’d learned from this Drake guy. But now something else was telling her to be careful, that there might be a trap there. “They’re going to want to pin it on someone, you know, and I’m beginning to have this feeling that that someone might be me, since I’ve mouthed off so much about how useless Congress has become. And since I got out just before the bomb went off. And you — since you tried to warn them, they’re going to realize you know too much. You’re in danger, too.”
   “Maybe, but I don’t think so. I faxed you and the others from a copy shop, didn’t use my real name, and paid with cash, so they won’t know who I am. You see my name isn’t really Drake Martin . . . it’s . . . it’s Jeff. I’m sorry . . . I had to be careful. I’ll tell you my last name later, when I get to know you better.”
   “Well, Jeff.” Amanda looked at his blue-grey eyes, in that long face like her father’s. “That figures, I guess. Maybe you’re going to be OK. But it doesn’t get me off the hook, does it? I gotta get outta here.”
   “Where to?”
   “West — to California, where I come from.”
   “I was thinking west might be good, too, but more like northwest — Oregon maybe, where I know people who live near a hot spring in the forest.”
   “So, it seems we’re both heading in the same general direction.”
   “Yes, but maybe it really would be better for you to go back to the scene and check in with the police. It might clear you.”
   “No thanks. Now that I’m tuning in to this, wild horses couldn’t drag me back there. Call it intuition. Or an instinct for self preservation. Or wanting to live to fight another day. They’ll want to pin it on someone, and they’ll see me as a likely suspect. If it was a member of Congress, it must have been one of those neocons who left when I did. But that sleazebag Jones is probably president by now, and he’s not going to want to pin it on one of his own number.”
   “Mm. . . I see your point. Well, you can come with me if you like.”
   “Or I could just get a taxi to the airport.”
   “Huh. Don’t like your chances. And I don’t see any taxis around. Want to come with me?” Her face relaxed a little, and she almost smiled. “We’d better get going then — there’ll be roadblocks everywhere in no time. What do you think’s the best way out of town?” He started the car.
   “I guess I-270, and count on it taking a while before roadblocks go up.”
   “Out along Constitution and the Roosevelt Bridge?”
   “Yes, then 66 to the Beltway.”
   As they drove by the Mall on Constitution they had to stop three times for emergency vehicles with blaring sirens, but they had no more trouble after that getting out of D.C. At Frederick they branched north to Gettysburg. All continued to go well for a while, but about five miles south of the Pennsylvania border the inevitable roadblock appeared.
   “What am I going to do?” Amanda said. “I’ve just realized my license has ‘Member of Congress’ written on it. They’ll want to see it.”
   “It does? Well, nothing we can do now but hope they let you through anyway. Trying to turn around would be a dead giveaway. Just try to appear relaxed and calm. It’ll be at least half an hour before they get to us.”
   “Man oh man.” She slouched in her seat.

   For over half an hour, Amanda was sure she was going to be arrested, tried, then who knows what? Executed by a bunch of religious extremists who had taken over the government? She’d composed herself, though. She knew her best chance of getting through this was to appear as unconcerned and relaxed as possible. Then she remembered. She still had her old California license in her bag, which didn’t have ‘Member of Congress’ written on it. She dug for it, found it, and told Jeff.
   “Good. Everything’ll probably be just fine, then.”
   “I don’t know. They’ll still likely do a computer check, and that’ll be just as bad as having it written all over my license.”

   They were nearly at the front of the line, and a police officer was coming over to them.
   “Can I see your driver’s licenses, please?” He inspected them, and took down details. “Where are you both going today?”
   “I’m not sure how far we’ll get, but we’re en route to California via Yellowstone and Zion.”
   “How come you didn’t stick to the freeway?”
   “We’re going through Gettysburg this afternoon to see the Civil War stuff.”
   “Uh huh. Did you come from D.C. today?”
   “Yes.”
   “Why did you leave D.C.?”
   “Just to continue on with the trip.”
   “Where did you both stay last night?”
   Jeff named the motel he had stayed in. Amanda kept her silence.
   “So what time did you leave D.C.?”
   “About two and a half hours ago.” Jeff added a half hour to his actual trip time so it would seem like they had been at least ten minutes on their way by the time of the blast. “About noon.”
   “Stop at all on the way?”
   “Yes,” Jeff fabricated. “At a restaurant back at Frederick.”
   “Notice anything unusual before you left D.C., or as you left?”
   “Well, we did hear something like thunder, or an explosion, in the distance — is that what this is about?”
   “Maybe! Haven’t you heard? Muslim terrorists smuggled a powerful bomb into the House of Reps chamber in the Capitol building during a joint sitting. The president, who was there, was killed, along with many members of Congress. The FBI thinks it was suicide bombers in the gallery, and that they must have had supporters on the outside. We’re searching for them.”
   “So what’s going to happen?”
   “I really don’t know . . . But one last thing before I go check out these details — I need you folks to get out of the car for a few minutes while we search it. If you could just pop the hood and trunk for me before you get out, I’d appreciate it.”
   The two officers spent about five minutes searching under the seats and through Jeff’s bags, yet somehow didn’t notice that there was only one set of luggage there, and only men’s things, and that Amanda was traveling interstate without luggage. That would have been awkward to explain away. Then there was another fifteen minute wait while their IDs were checked, before the policeman returned.
   “OK. You’re free to go. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long. Our C.R.I.S. went down and we still haven’t got it back up. But you guys don’t exactly look like Muslim terrorists. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a nice day sir, ma’am.”

   Amanda forced a polite smile as they drove away. She remained silent for about fifteen seconds, then heaved a huge sigh.
   “Their computer system went down. How lucky could I get! I thought I was done for. Their C.R.I.S. had to bring up my being a member of Congress. And it crashed! Man. What a relief.”
   “So what’s a C.R.I.S.?”
   “Oh. Cross Referencing Information System. It’s the police’s way of tracking people by computer. It brings up everything about them.”
   “Well, nerve-racking it was. But I told you you’d get through.”
   “Yes. Thanks. I was freaking out. You really helped me get myself together.”
   “Oh well, that’s OK. I’m as relieved as you are to be past that roadblock.”
   “So what about the Muslim terrorist bit? What a nerve they’ve got.”
   “What a load of garbage.”
   “Absolutely. Still, I figure that’s another part of my good luck. I realize now they would have to have got their perpetrators out. The Muslim terrorist story, even if it doesn’t hold up in the long run, will at least divert attention from any of their members who were able to get out before the blast. It will give them time to leave the area and establish their alibis. And it’s giving me time to leave, too, of course. But if the Muslim story doesn’t hold up, they may still try to pin it on someone like me later.”
   “Possibly. But I think they’ll push the Muslim story for all its worth, and it’ll probably stick. After 9/11, a lot of people will believe it. Some will see it as scapegoating, and howl for the truth, but most will just want to accept it. It’s really very clever. If the religious right control the state of emergency, which I’m sure they will, then they can ethnically cleanse the Muslims from the country — one step down the road toward their goal of making America uniformly Christian.”
   “You’re painting a very bleak picture.” She weighed up his view as they drove along.

   “Hey look. We’re crossing the Mason-Dixon Line.” Jeff pointed to a brown sign. “It’s weird . . . for us to be crossing it now, just as the whole country is losing its freedom, passing from peace into civil war again. There’s been a cultural civil war going on for decades. Now there could be an actual civil war again. If there really is a fundamentalist takeover, I can’t see the majority of people in this country just giving in and accepting it. They’ll fight for their freedom . . . I’ll fight for it, for that matter.”
   “I’m sure you would. And quite a few like you. But as for most people, I don’t know. It’d be nice to know what the political fallout actually is.” She glanced across the dashboard. “Why don’t you turn on the radio?”
   “Huh? Sure. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” He pressed the switch. “Can I get you to find a station?”
   “OK . . . Just static . . . Here’s something.”
   “. . . If you’ve just tuned in, the shocking news is that the Capitol building has been bombed by terrorists, and the president and hundreds of congress men and women are dead. In a country plagued by violence for years, from school shootings to racial hate crimes to the terrorist attacks of 9/11, the ultimate violent crime has been perpetrated: the destruction of the heart of our democratic way of life, the Capitol building in Washington, D.C. What do you think about it, Jack?”
   “I can’t help feeling that after all these years, and after all the violence we could have done something about, but didn’t, our chickens have come home to roost in this ultimate tragedy. Maybe now we can really address the problem of violence seriously. This could, finally, be the turning point.”
   “So Jack, you don’t buy the official story that Muslim terrorists were responsible?”
   “Not for a minute, Bill. That’s what they said after the Oklahoma bombing, but when the dust settled, it proved to be home-grown violence, and this will, too.”
   “But Muslim terrorists were responsible for 9/11. Why couldn’t they be responsible now? No-one thinks the war on terrorism totally wiped out al-Qaeda.”
   “Of course not. Al-Qaeda and their ilk are still out there, and still capable of mounting a terrorist attack. But there’s no evidence implicating Muslim terrorists this time.”
   “The FBI’s saying there is.”
   “But they haven’t shown us any of it. Until I see the evidence, count me a skeptic.”
   “Whoa! When we come back I’ll have to challenge you on that one. We will continue talking with Jack, right after this message from our sponsors. Stay with us for our continuing coverage of this devastating breaking news.”
   “Ads, at a time like this.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “Want to find another station?”
   “Sure.”

   Soon they were approaching the turnoff to Gettysburg. The battlefield where Lincoln made that most sublime of all speaches was a special place for Jeff. He could still feel the presence of the reverence that pervaded it, that had kept him silent and reflective and in awe every time he had visited it. It was one of America’s most holy places. Yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it again now, in the current circumstances. And they didn’t really have the time now, either.
   “Do you want to drive through the battlefield?” he said.
   “Not really. I’ve seen it before. I think we should just keep going.”
   “Sure. I’ve seen it before, too. We’ll push on, then.”
   “It is rather poignant, though, to think of all those Union soldiers dying to preserve the freedom that’s now going up in smoke. ‘Government of the people, by the people, for the people,’ may not have perished from the earth, but it could well be departing from America for a while.”
   “Yes. It was a wonderful ideal of Lincoln’s. And I hope one day it will see the light, but up to now I don’t think we’ve ever really had it — in this country at least. All we’ve had is: ‘Government of the people, by the ruling elite, for the corporations and the rich.’”
   “Huh.” She reacted with a quizzical look, then paused. “Maybe if there’s another civil war now, its legacy really will be to finally usher in government ‘by the people, for the people.’”
   “Actually, that could well be how it ends up. Reason being that if the religious right seize control, it will be the ruling elite, with its back against the wall, desperately trying to cling to power. And its desperation is a sign of its weakness.”
   “Are they really so desperate, though, that they would blow up Congress to cling to power?” Amanda threw up her hands. “I really don’t understand! I know it looked like they would lose the presidency in November. And without control of Congress that certainly means they would have been in the political wilderness. But they’ve come back before. Especially with the extra six percent margin they’ve been getting recently by rigging the vote where there are electronic voting machines with no paper ballots. It should be easy for them.”
   “You’re referring, I presume, to the fact that the exit polls, in both the last two elections gave the Democrats a six to eight percent higher vote than they actually achieved in the polls?”
   “Yes. And the fact that around the world exit polls have proved to be exceptionally reliable, with an error of much less than one percent. After all, they’re polling people who have just voted — that’s got to be much more accurate than opinion polls taken before the election from people who may not have made up their minds yet and may not even vote.”
   “Oh, I agree with you that the exit poll discrepancy shows the Republicans have been rigging the vote.”
   “Yes.”
   “But even all that vote rigging was not enough to stop them losing both the House and the Senate to the Democrats last time. The Democrats swamped the six percent and gained another three or four percent on top of that.”
   “Of course. I know that. But there were exceptional circumstances, such as the Iraq war going so badly, and others, so when these circumstances subsided, as they would have in time, with the aid of the six percent vote rig it should have been easy for them to get back into power.”
   “Yes, if they could have actually kept doing the vote rig. Some districts have already passed ballot measures to replace electronic voting machines with paper ballots, and many more were planning to this time. And, once the Democrats regained all three branches of power in November, they would have been sure to have taken action to end the vote rig. It would have been greatly to their advantage to do so, as it would have given them back an extra six percent margin that was rightfully theirs, and that would have greatly solidified their grip on power.”
   “OK. Yes. The republicans may have been worried about that. But there is no reason in principle why they couldn’t have competed on an even footing with the Democrats. They would just have needed to get new policies that really met the needs of the people. Isn’t that how democracy is supposed to work?”
   “Yes, it is how it is supposed to work. Trouble is that for a long time now the Republican Party has been controlled by the ruling elite. As a result, its policies represenst the interests of the ruling elite, which is about exploiting the majority of the population, not helping them.”
   “OK. Let’s be clear about what you mean by the ruling elite. Do you mean that part of the one percent of the population that owns half the wealth that bribes politicians with campaign donations to do their bidding?”
   “You’ve got it! That’s exactly what I mean by the ruling elite.”
   “But the majority of people have often voted Republican. Why would anyone vote for a party that doesn’t represent their interests, when there is a party that does?”
   “That’s a very good question, that I’ve thought about quite a lot. Have you got half an hour?”
   “No! The short version, please.” Amanda was not in the mood for too much talk. There were so many images forcing their way into her head from the bombing. So many uncertainties about the future. God, what was she doing here, anyway, with this man she didn’t even know? And where was she going to get some clothes? All she had in the world was in her one small handbag. Thank God she had changed into casual clothes and comfortable shoes before heading out to meet Jeff. But she did also want to figure out why in the hell the ruling elite would feel it needed a dictatorship to serve its interests, when it already had the Republican Party. “So, the short version?”
   “I’ve just been thinking about that. Why people used to vote for the Republican Party when it wasn’t in their best interests to, but are increasingly not doing so any more?”
   “Yes.”
   “I think there are many reasons, including ruling elite control of the media, but I suspect the main reason — the one that has kept ruling elites in power for thousands of years — is people’s belief that they are better off in an hierarchy of power, because they too, with hard work, can climb their way up the ladder and become better than other people. The idea is a con, of course. Most people don’t make it up the ladder, and there is no happiness there anyway. Like most cons, it’s one which succeeds better with uneducated people. And that is why people are now turning away from the Republican Party. In our increasingly educated society people are waking up to that con, and not being taken in by it. What’s replacing it is the cultural creative idea that all people are valuable and that happiness doesn’t come from treading on as many people as possible, but from cooperating rather than competing, sharing rather than hoarding, loving rather that hating, allowing people the freedom to live the way they want to rather than dominating them. What’s happening is that we are in the early stages of the greatest revolution the world has ever seen. Of course, when you are in a revolution it’s hard to see the forest for the trees, but I believe that, in the future, history will look back on this time as being a major turning point in the civilization of our planet. Ever since the dawn of history, humans have been dominated by ruling elites, but now that’s ending. What’s happening, quite literally — and don’t laugh — is that the meek are inheriting the earth.”
   “Hah!” Amanda did laugh, but Jeff could see it did her good. “I know what you mean by the cultural creatives: all those people who want to live in a new egalitarian, cooperative, spiritual way, who are now close to being a majority in our society. I’m a cultural creative, and so are all those who voted for me. In a way we are the ‘meek.’ But we sure as hell are not going to be meek little door mats and get walked all over.”
   “I didn’t think you would. And, actually, the way you’ve just described yourself as meek is exactly what Jesus meant by meekness. He chewed out his disciples for trying to dominate each other, saying something like: ‘You know how the rulers of the Romans lord it over them, and their officials exercise authority? It won’t be like that with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must serve everybody.’”
   “That was very revolutionary of him, but you know you are not going to convert me from being a Pagan.” She spat out another laugh.
   “Pagan eh? That’s different for a member of congress! Even for a Green. But still, I don’t want to convert you. I’m a cultural creative myself, these days, and as you of course know, tolerance is a cultural creative value.”
   “Glad to hear it.”
   “Good.”
   “So, I think I can finish your argument for you,” Amanda said.
   “OK.”
   “It’s like this: the ruling elite had its back against the wall. It knew it couldn’t stay in power any longer ‘democratically,’ even with the widespread election fraud it has perpetrated in recent elections, so the only thing left for it to do was to find an excuse for their far-right, neocon vice president to seize power as a dictator, and use force to keep him and the elite in power. And the way it’s done that has been to work with an extremist Christian-right militia to bomb Congress, then blame it on Muslim terrorists. Am I close?”
   “That’s just about it. Of course, it’s only an extreme minority of the ruling elite who would ever have thought of taking such drastic action. But now it’s happened, the rest of them will go along with it gratefully enough.”
   “Yes, I’m sure they will.”
   “So, it makes sense to you?” Jeff looked around at her.
   “Well, I’m kind of impressed—watch the road, Jeff! . . . But we still don’t know if that’s what’s actually happened. After all, for all we know at this stage, it could have been Muslim terrorists.”
   “And the confusion and uncertainty about that will play right into their hands, and enable them to get their theocracy well established before people see what’s happening, and can start organizing to fight them.”
   “You’re absolutely certain about that, aren’t you? Oh well, I won’t argue with you any more . . . I’m sure you’re right! I give in!” She broke down with the laughter that had been gradually infecting her. Jeff was a little put out by her making fun of him this way, but his annoyance only lasted a few seconds. She was sprawled out as much as she could be in a car seat, laughing like a tree in a gale. Jeff looked at her in astonishment, but could only join her. Suddenly he could see the funny side of his being such a political know-it-all with a politician, and he laughed along with her. For a moment the car was weaving all over the road. In this lightness, the shock and distress of the day were relieved a little. When they stopped laughing he caught her eyes, and in that look seemed to be an understanding that everything would be OK between them.