Josiah the Reformer

JOSIAH THE REFORMER

By Jared Wallace Carter

Copyright 2013 Jared Wallace Carter

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER 1

The bar and the General met every Tuesday night. It was here that he ordered his favorite brown ale and sat, watching people lie. The reason he enjoyed his time so immensely was because he could relax and be entertained, knowing that the lies he heard did not matter. He did not feel the need to correct anyone. They were petty and harmless.

There was a woman wearing gaudy jewelry around her neck and wrists, her age probably mid-forties, and she was talking to a handsome young man. Their discussion was heavily one-sided with the woman expounding upon her disappointment in and fear of her young butler who had become aggressively seductive toward her. It was not a typical tale, but the General had heard many women’s conversations share the underlying motive of desperation.

The man in the frayed hat, the one with a week’s worth of untrimmed, gray beard carrying a cane in one hand and a pint in the other just gave his entire inheritance to the local church. The General perceived that he was no church-going man. All too often people assumed that the church should be the worthy recipient in their tales. The General silently wished that the old man would have pretended to give his money to the nuclear weaponry fund. Even a donation to the mass migration process would have been more interesting. The church was boring and overdone.

The bartender denied several times of being a communist and philosopher after the ways of the infamous Englishman. His argument was always, I own a bar for great’s sake! However, it was in that very bar, in the early hours of the morning that shouts of a secret meeting could be heard.

The beauty here was that no one was at war with anyone but himself. They were not traitors or terrorists or radicals. They were simple. On this night, the General sat at his back table and relaxed, knowing that lying was simply a way of humanity, and he need not try to stop it all. In fact, he found it rather amusing. Everyone in the bar was fooling and being fooled because they did not want to know anything different.

It was a near mile from Jack’s office to the General’s bar. No one was driving the roads, but he chose to walk the length despite the cold, dreary flurries. He knew of his friend’s Tuesday night habits and decided to take him up on his offer to drink intelligently together any time. It was a matter of confrontation. He knew the General more than most people claimed to. He knew of the man’s ugly past, of his intellectual risings, of his micro-expression interests and the hobby it became. He also knew that, though the General would deny it, he remained strongly influenced by humanism and was quite narcissistic. However, he pretended very well not to be. It came as a product of his studies. Part of the reason the General respected Jack so much was because of his genuineness. Give me five minutes of conversation with any man and I’ll give you a liar. The only exception has been you. It was the only compliment Jack had ever held on to.

He strolled, hugging himself in his thick jacket, on the sidewalk which traveled through the park. Whenever he had a chance he would take this favorite route, glance at the two massive oak trees in the park’s center, follow the four merging streams, and continue on by the fountains and down through the mall.

He reached the old bar door with no indication of its name or business. If you don’t know, you don’t belong, the bartender said. As he opened the door, the heat from a blazing fireplace immediately rushed his face. He glanced around the front, the bar on his left, old wooden tables on his right, mostly seated and mostly talkative. He gave word to the barman, heard word from the barman, and took his drink to a lonely table in the back where the General was seated in the table’s only chair.

Jack never saw much of his old friend those days. It might even be said that they were no longer friends, only acquaintances. Times had changed. Upon seeing the General, Jack thought it odd that he was not dressed in the usual serious attire of business. The man sat in a heavy flannel shirt, worn khaki pants, and an old pair of tan slippers. It was what a retired man wore while whittling, piecing a puzzle, or reading a book. And so it was what the General wore while enjoying his drink and sit.

Well, there you are Jack. Glad you could make it. I hear you’ve been doing plenty fine.

Yes, sir. Plenty enough, he said as he was about to take his seat.

Let me get a handshake from you, Jack, before you sit. There it is. In fact, why don’t you pull up a couple more chairs. I’m expecting some others to join us.

Jack did so and took his seat directly across from the General.

I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Jack, especially glad for tonight. But it has been a while. Do I need to remind you?

Jack was a freelance journalist and was successful as one because he had the respect and trust of the most interesting man in the country, and often was the only journalistic soul allowed in official meetings and therefore had the monopoly on reporting the decisions and news of the migrations and colonies.

No notepad, sir. Not a scratch of paper or a drop of ink. I come only as a friend.

No doubt, no doubt. His words faded into a mumble as he returned his eyes to the drinking customers. His eyes swept the room and fixed upon a man who had just entered the door, letting in some of the snow from outside, and shaking off the rest as he continued to walk. If he had not the notion of knowing exactly where he was walking to, he looked to be lost. The thin-faced man was dressed in an expensive black suit with an obtrusive green tie. The only word present in Jack’s mind was serpentine. And to the dismay of Jack, the serpentine man bypassed all others, ignored the bartender, and took a seat to his left.

The General introduced him. He was a high-staking entrepreneur, investor, first-class business man, and as recent, a successful lobbyist. No need to state that his neon tie was bought at a higher price than Jack’s current attire. As he responded with my pleasure, Jack watched to see if his tongue flicked. It didn’t. Instead, his small mouth and quite normal tongue started a small-talk conversation about the stock market. He waved to the waitress, ordered a whiskey coffee, Jack his usual gin, and the General had another pint of ale.

Being caught up in the conversation which turned from the market to the writing styles of the Report, Jack was quite startled when he caught a glimpse of an elderly man directly over his shoulder. Even more to his surprise, the old man clapped his shoulder, shook his hand, and took his seat to the writer’s right. He was a professor and Dean of Humanities at the University of the City. In the academic world he was a highly renowned theorist and was well argued in philosophical and ethical issues, although not everyone agreed that he had the right ideas about ethics. Perhaps the power of his arguments had as much to do with his fatherly tone as with his intellect and wit. He was twenty years passed retirement but still remained at his classroom home. He had said before that the perfect death would be to faint forever before his students with a meaningful yet unfinished sentence. He ordered red wine.

Whether this was a prior engagement of the other three, Jack did not know, but by the expression on the General’s calm face, he knew that he wasn’t intruding. In fact, the General was genuinely glad that he had made it to this particular discussion. He couldn’t have planned it better.

The discussion began.

To catch you up, Jack, we’ve been meeting quite frequently lately, a dull tired expression seemed to hide behind his pretense, discussing the first three colonies. Their successes, failures, the philosophy of it all, and what not. The fact is that we pretty much agree on everything.

All knew that the General was a very powerful man, both in stature and in intellect, and much more in authority. Ever since he became the General, graduating from his top-rank at the Intellectual Force Agency, and had been seated head of the colonization movement, not many dared oppose the man. This, however, did no good. In fact, it proved much opposite. It was why he cherished his Tuesdays even more so than before. He was never opposed, never challenged, and always knew why. He winked at Jack.

And now you have come on the perfect evening with inexplicable timing. For tonight, we talk about the fourth colony of which I believe to be the only colony you hold an interest in. Am I right, Jack?

He grinned nervously as he caught on to the General’s invitation. He did know about the fourth colony, and he very much meant to oppose it.

I wouldn’t say it’s the only colony I care about, sir. It felt strange to call him sir, but it seemed to be owed to him nonetheless. We have many of our people at those colonies. However, they are well-off. I would just say that I have a special interest in the fourth colony.

If anybody knew what we do about the colony, who wouldn’t have a special interest, eh?

With a shuffled glance towards the green man who had just snidely spoken, he directed his attention toward the General to reply. He first, however, read the General’s obvious expression and thought it best to address this thought.

No one knows from me, sir. The General was then appeased and relaxed. That’s just it, though. I would assume most people would be extremely interested, and most likely the majority would have a sort of a fit over the matter! He was already getting excited, too excited. The eyes of everyone at the table told him so. It had always been the case that he was excitable about the things he cared for most. It was what caused him to be a successful writer. He wrote with passion, convincing his readers to boldly answer what needed to be answered. However, he knew its danger all too well. In his excitement once before, he had made such an exclamation that had caused him to resign from his position in the Department of Ethics. Even though ironic, as crooked as his department was, he was still held to his word under oath, and he had broken that oath. He took a deep breath.

It is this that brings up an exact curiosity of mine. If I can be frank with you General, and I believe I can, then let me ask you this. Why do we still have the fourth colony information classified when every bit of the fifth colony is public knowledge? Most people think the fifth colony is the fourth colony!

The General took his time to answer. He took a sip from his ale and leaned forward on the table.

I don’t know why you’re asking that question, Jack. You know the answer. People just don’t quite understand what is best for them, and for others. If they knew the current situation with the fourth colony, you’re quite right when you say that they would have a fit, but more so than a fit, but rather a moral dilemma. He then sat back in his chair, casual and relaxed. So while people are arguing and debating over what should be and how it should be, then positive interests for the project falls, funding drops, and the future of colonization is delayed. And the future of colonization is the future of the people. This is the reason you are here, isn’t it, Jack? You are the people. So the fourth must remain classified for now until it is successful. Jack knew the colony would never be successful, but he knew better than to say so. And the fifth colony has well met the criteria for a successful and healthy colony, and may even end up more sustainable than the first, but we won’t be able to agree or disagree with that for another ten years or so. Because of this, we had no reason to withhold information about the fifth, and, as we hoped, it has drawn negative curiosity away from the fourth and has transformed it into positive curiosity towards itself.

The General had finished his brief dissertation, drained the remaining ale from his mug, and motioned the waitress for another. The men to his left and right sat smugly in adoration of their idol.

Jack, on the other hand, was aggravated. The General seemed to be handling the colonists’ happiness and freedom with a rather apathetic approach. After all, what the General had in mind was to imprison these people into their own homes and not even a place the people could consider a home at all. He referred to the colony as a project, and that is precisely the word he meant. It was an experiment. If this colony could be successful, then colonization could spread to more areas more quickly. No more looking for the perfect situation. Can colonies survive harsh realities? It was an important question in need of an answer, and therefore in need of an experiment. But all of this was simply swept under the rug with talk of funding and positive perception. This talk was kept up by the three until Jack could no longer hide.

But, General, you must see what you are doing to the colonists is wrong.

The two strangers were taken aback and had quickly swung their eyes to Jack. The General still remained quite calm, but his face showed an expression of strength and sternness.

Jack, I have this respect for you of a different sort than I do for most people, but I will withdraw it if you openly portray me as a man careless of his people. Let me let you in on something you have apparently missed. I do not create colonies to destroy people’s lives. I create colonies to expand life so that it can experience a newness that has never been experienced before, and all this while knowing it as a regularity. That is my work. I do not create despair for people. And yes, certain actions were taken, deemed by you to be wrong, that have secured the safety of the happiness of the people. So, Jack, why do you call what I do wrong?

Immediately, Jack regretted the particular phrasing of his accusation and of the interruption it caused. He was taken aback