A war took place in her expression, those massive, dark eyes morphing between modes of soft kindness, hard steel, and terrified uncertainty. I leaned in for a kiss, hoping to wash away her fears, but she scooted back on her hands and put a tiny distance between us that was as wide as the sea.
“You asked me once why we fought the Axis,” she said, averting her eyes.
I shook my head in confusion. I wanted to keep up the momentum, but knew this was important. I needed the truth from her as much as she needed to give it. It was a crushing weight of knowledge resting upon her heart. I would just have to hope she wouldn’t now act as if nothing had happened. Wild emotions I thought I’d left far behind filled my mind and body, scaring the hell out of me. What if she turned away from me again? What would I do?
“I did ask,” I conceded.
“Then I’d like to tell you a story.” She waved an arm across the sky in a wide arc. “A story of ten children.”
A series of birds chirped in the distance. A bug crawled up my leg. I flicked it off out of reflex. This was all so surreal, so convincing. I raised an eyebrow. “A true story?”
“In its way.” She tightly closed her eyes and began to speak, using that far off voice again. “There once were ten wondrous children with one hundred golden coins. These ten children are the world, and their hundred coins all the money in it. There is one who is the Sovereign, two who are Contented, five who are Bottoms, and three who are Gazers. They live in one place together, but despite their freedoms, are kept separate by barriers they cannot see or touch.
“The Sovereign is the richest, and wishes to remain that way. He is a natural leader, a child who, in his private world, can get things done because he was born of privilege and will always be of privilege. He holds all the power on the playground as he believes he deserves, and thinks of generations down the line, ensuring his grandchildren’s grandchildren will have what he has, secure and unmoving. He holds most of the coins that the children use in trade for sweets and bread and juice, eighty of one hundred.
“Then there are the two Contented. They get on well enough, but are not so far removed they’re blind to their lessers’ struggles. They want to do what is right, if given the chance, they truly do, but won’t risk much. They hold ten coins altogether, five a piece, and wish very much for it to stay that way.
“Five of the children, the Bottoms, are hungry and so they take what scraps they can. They’re sent to complete the errands of their betters, to do the tasks those refuse in exchange for biscuits and saccharine tablets while others consume steak and Coca-Cola. They believe that this is their lot in life. That they will never rise above. When need be, they steal and cheat out of reflex and survival. They do not think of tomorrow like the Sovereign and Contenteds, sometimes not even to the end of the day. Their betters fault them for not managing their vast wealth properly. They hold three coins between them, not even one to each, yet are held in contempt for their abject poverty.
“Then there are the three Gazers. They have been told since birth they would do great things, be great things, but are just on the edge of making it happen. As their opportunities expand, the Sovereign arrives and demands more. Whenever they gain an inch, life takes three quarters. They see the Bottoms, and wish to help, but can’t. They resent the Contenteds for being comfortable, and despise the Sovereign, for he holds all the power and none of the compassion. And so they too struggle, but against themselves. They fight and backbite, all for an uneven split of seven coins.”
Liberty scooted up beside me, putting her head on my shoulder while resting her hands on bent knees. I leaned close and remained silent, feeling her body rise and fall as she breathed.
“Then one day, one strange day, as the Gazers could no longer bear the Sovereign, the Contenteds have a change of heart. They see the world around them shifting and decide to work together, to amass the power of the Bottoms and topple the Sovereign. They take what the Sovereign has stolen through corporate exploitation veiled as employment. All the wealth is evenly distributed, and everyone is richer, even the Contenteds. Science and art and culture flourish without common struggles to hold them back. Every one of the children are given what they need to survive and thrive. The Contenteds are put in charge as stewards, not Kings. The children reach for the sky as one, united in their cause to claim the void as their own.
“They spread their wings and fly, set free from the monotony of basic survival. They reach for the rocks floating in the sky. The red rock. The ringed rock. The calico rock. They begin to build and grow at exponential speed, machines they’ve crafted paving the way through automation. And then, amidst their utopia of freedom and fulfillment, one of the Contenteds sees new opportunity. He becomes more ambitious than the rest, putting all of his riches into goods.
“It takes some time, but the Contented positions himself to seize power. He uses his newfound exports as leverage against those on the big blue globe, the cradle of all children. He cuts corners and changes rules, rallying those tired of living the same as everyone else to his cause. He says a man, not a child, should earn what he wishes, have what he wishes if he’s willing to work for it. Not be held back, wasting hard work so that others who’ve contributed less can thrive all the same. But before the former, now fractured, Bottoms or Gazers or toppled Sovereign can catch up and plead their case, the Contented takes control and becomes fatter, richer than anyone ever before. Trouble is, in the void there’s nowhere to go, no choice to escape his power. They are trapped beneath his will.
“His greed multiplies and before the Contented knows it, he’s at war against the other children. He calls himself a man. Once again they’re fighting over the same coins, though now there are two hundred instead of one hundred. The original Bottoms and Gazers might now be twice as rich, but have less than a fraction of the Contented, the new Sovereign.”
She turned to face me, expectant.
“What do you think was better?” I asked, not sure what to take of the lengthy parable. No one had ever told me the truth, plain or otherwise, but part of me always knew what was taught in school had been a lie. Even Enela had known something wasn’t right, and he was among the Bottoms. “Is it better when we’re economic equals, and hard work means nothing? Or, when opportunist can exploit? Stealing from those who know no better and cannot fight for themselves? Was pure socialism our fall, or some form of capitalism?”
Liberty laughed. “If it were only that simple. Our fall was brought about by men of greedy ambitions who had no one’s interests at heart but their own. We have always been afraid to say this aloud and be alienated from our declared parties, but both our systems are flawed. Where there’s life, there will always be those grabbing for power. All these systems do is change the ways in which they’re forced to do so. Is this child an economic autocrat fat on slavery? Or Big Brother guiding our actions to his benefit? Both want the same in the end, an unfair portion of power that will only hold us back. All the money, all the votes, all the property, all the access, all the choices. Because in the end, wealth is about choice, and the men with power hold every fucking one.”
“Well,” I asked, taking her hand, “if you could change the world, what would you do different?”
Her lips curled up at the ends as she gripped my fingers tightly. “I don’t know if I can change the world; I’m just one person. But I can change my world.”
She drew me in and kissed me on the lips. My stomach flipped end over end with equal portions of excitement and nausea. Damn, I couldn’t do this inside a simulation; it just didn’t jive with my central nervous system. I ignored the discomfort and focused on the pleasure as long as I could. I knew where this was headed and was overjoyed, but was positive it wouldn’t end well. It would be an awkward disaster. Coitus interruptus by stomachus ejectus.