Conspiracy of Dreams

Chapter 3: From the Mouths of Babes

Across town another member of the Department of Youth Intervention inspection team, Officer Hardy was at the school observing a class in session. He was in constant communications with the other three officers from the Nevada Department of Youth Intervention, a state organization that was charged with investigating and preventing child abuse—especially in the mostly-privatized school system. Corporal Culp had notified Officer Hardy that she was going to investigate the "sweat shops" as DYI termed any place where children worked for pay. Hardy looked around the room with wry grin thinking that children were worked a lot harder without being paid than when someone was allowed to reward their labors. It was almost un-capitalistic! The class took place in one room with children of varying ages in Silver Orb school summer uniforms: white polo shirt over purple shorts. There were 23 girls between the ages of 6 and 14 and there were 9 boys in the same age span. One of the girls was sitting on the floor wailing like the damned next to an older boy when the naked male teacher approached.

"What happened here, Jonathan?"

"I don't know, sir" the boy said to the teacher.

"I don't want to wear nasty old clothes," the girl screamed. "I can't breathe"

"Okay, okay, get them off," the teacher said. "You're Ryder, aren't you?"

"Yes," the girl sniffled as she pulled at her clothes. Jonathan assisted, which kept Ryder from tearing her clothes. "Thank you Mister. Can you tell my teacher that I don't have to wear these nasty clothes?"

"I'm Mr. Jones. I'm the principal of this school. I'm letting you stay naked today, but I need you to wear your uniform to school and wear it a little longer each day."

"But I don't want to!" Ryder shouted.

"You don't have to want to. It is part of your education. We have time—eight years. You need to learn to wear clothes so that you can work outside of Silver Orb."

"I don't want to leave Silver Orb!"

"Ryder, I had the opposite problem when I got here five years ago," Jonathan squatted down and explained. "I came from the outside and I didn't want to play naked. Mr. Jones was just a teacher back then, and he suggested that I could gradually get used to the idea. That was back in the winter and I wore a lot more clothes. I had a coat, a long-sleeved shirt, an undershirt, pants, socks, and two pair of underpants! It took me two weeks before I could feel comfortable in just one pair of underpants. You have to learn to wear clothes. I had to learn to be naked. When I felt out of place, I finally got over being too modest."

"Nobody will make fun of you here," Mr. Jones said. "If they do, tell me. Everybody wants to be here because this is where you learn to read and write and use numbers. You learn about the world outside Silver Orb and how special this place really is. Jonathan, you can help her put her things in her backpack. Make sure that she has her towel."

"You can sit by me," Jonathan told the girl as he helped her remove her sandals. "But I need you to be quiet when I'm studying. I need to learn things."

"Big kids know everything!"

All the other children laughed.

"What's the towel for?" Officer Hardy asked as the principal took up a place behind the podium.

"To sit on." The principle explained. "Nudist etiquette for hygienic reasons."

The class had become very quiet when the principal took up his position at the lecture podium. After scanning the classroom to make sure that everyone was seated, Principal Jones began.

"Today's history lesson is on the Communist Party Platform and its adoption by the United States of America. By the end of the Wilson Administration all ten planks had been instituted in some form or another. Can anybody tell me the amendment to the US Constitution that made it hard to get rich? Yes, Danny Albertson?"

"Sir, it was the 16th Amendment and the graduated income tax on February 3, 1913 under President William Howard Taft." Danny Albertson had an excuse for his pride.

"That's correct Danny. What was the reason that a graduated income tax and abolishing the right of inheritance were in the Communist Manifesto?" After a moment's silence, Principal Jones nodded at Danny. "You did well, Danny. I bet you can tell me the text of those two planks."

"Yes, Sir! The second plank was a heavy progressive or graduated income tax. The third was the abolition of all right of inheritance. I read something about them being a transition from capitalism to communism. I didn't understand that part."

"You did very well, Danny. Lawmakers in the 20th Century didn't exhibit understanding of that either—despite many being dedicated anti-communists. Thank you. You get two gold stars. Now can anybody give me a why people wanted to transition from capitalism to communism?"

"I can, sir," a tall boy 13 years old stood up.

"Go ahead, Theodore."

"The reason for turning to communism was that some people were not satisfied with the people in power and wanted to take over and run things their way. All the ten planks were intended to take power by taking over control of all the economic resources. Dad told me that the prerequisite for that was to take control of the means of force, the police, courts and military, and to take over all opinions, such as churches, the media and school."

"Very good! Now can anybody tell me the last plank? Danny? Go ahead."

"Yes, Mr. Jones." Danny stood straight and proud as he rattled off the quote: Free education for all children in public schools. Abolition of children's factory labor in its present form. Combination of education with industrial production. "And the sixth plank talked about controlling the media and all transportation."

"I'm running out of gold stars. Somebody will have to get more of them." Jones looked at Officer Hardy. "Officer Hardy is our visitors today. Do you have a question for the class? Be prepared for whatever these bright young people answer."

"Why didn't the Communist Manifesto mention gun control in its party platform?" Officer Hardy asked. "Nor did they mention controlling human reproduction."

"I think I have an answer," Theodore Dalton stood up and addressed his audience. "Dad told me a lot about soldiers. Soldiers have guns, but if they don't know what to shoot at and when they cannot get close enough to shoot at things, their guns are useless. By controlling money and communications and transportation, the central government would control the army because it would stay in one place and starve until the army obeyed the new government. Dad tells me that dollars are a more dangerous weapon than guns."

"But guns kill people," Officer Hardy objected.

"Not true, sir, unless you beat people to death with them. Guns shoot things and these things kill people. Bullets kill people. Direct energy weapons kill people. Water cannons can even kill people."

"I thought that only people killed people," Officer Hardy quipped.

"I stand corrected, ma'am," Theodore said. "People use bullets to kill other people and that isn't all. But where do bullets come from?"

Little Lucy Albertson waved her hand. Theodore gave her the floor.

"Bullets are made by people," she proudly announced. "Then other people buy bullets."

The conversation wound down after a while and the principal announced that recess was in five minutes. With a collective whoop, 31 children removed their school uniforms and stored them in their backpacks. The bell rang and the 32 children surged to the playground.

"That was scary," Officer Hardy said. "I thought that I was in a college class, not a grammar school. You have a one-room classroom?"

"Until we get more kids. There are currently 46 children under age 6. Some will be attending school next year. When they have their sixth birthday, they come to school for a rite of passage ceremony that Friday and they show up the next Monday for their first day. Private schools seldom experience discipline problems because everybody wants to be here learning."

"I'm impressed with how you handled that little girl," Hardy said. "What was her name?"

"Ryder Milkweed. She's one of the cultists. The do send their children to school for what we teach. With individual learning computers we can have some learning the basics, a few learning advanced subjects, and the rest practicing social interactions."

"That's great," Hardy held up a finger. "But what if a child acts up and you can't calm him down? What if he disrupts school?"

"We use the minimum force required to protect the other students, ourselves, then school property," Principal Jones answered. "First, we use peers to model appropriate behavior. Then the teachers' physical presence is used. I used verbal exchange to find out and defuse Ryder's issue. Above that we use empty handed restraint and we expel the student. They then attend class with a behavior belt."

"What's that?" Hardy asked. "You don't strike the children with it, do you?"

"They're children. If they need to, they see one of our psychologists. You met Dr. Dalton." Principal Jones drew out a loop of stiff fabric with a box attached to the back. "This is a behavior belt. It works like the implants do on a slave, only this belt is removable and totally external. The punishment features are muted to mild discomfort only and there is only a warm all-over tingle for the positive reward. Oh, yes, if the child starts panicking—measured by pulse rate and other biometrics, this belt will painlessly stun the child and sound an alarm in our emergency services section. I've never had to use this belt and I've been here for 11 years. They're just children and they're well-behaved. That little incident you saw was a girl in distress because she wasn't used to wearing clothing. We will correct that here."

"You mean her parents kept her naked?" Barry Hardy asked.

"The cultists here practice total natural nudity all the time. Generally, children have to be forced to wear clothing and in our society that happens to them shortly after birth. Young children are happier naked. Children are also adaptable and hard wired to please adults." Officer Hardy did a double take at Principal Jones' words. "Yes, it's true—children will do anything to gain an adult's approval. That is why your agency exists. Part of growing up is to switch allegiance to one's peers. Believe me; we adults are far less adaptable. For example, I was shocked when I found out what my working conditions were, but I was under the gun."

"What do you mean?" Officer Klein inquired.

"I was a teacher at the Carson City high school. I had a little house and a mortgage and a car, and I was still paying off my student loans. One day I received notice that I was behind in my mortgage and student loan payments. I had an automatic payment system in place, but I checked up and found that my bank account had been emptied. I tried to get it straightened out, but I was served with papers to appear in court the next week. I needed an attorney and the school principal suggested a Mr. Land. Land took one look at my situation and brought me out here. Silver Orb bought up all my debt—they owned me. I don't know how they managed it. At first, I thought that they were going to enslave me themselves. Hank told me that he needed me to be a teacher—and that he preferred his teachers to be free citizens. I could have become a teaching slave. It would have been cheaper for Silver Orb. Now I'm their principal. He offered two choices: continue teaching where I was or move out here. The choice was easy because according the records I had resigned my position.

"Sally Hogan was the principal back then and she had worked with Hank in the army, the CDO."

"I heard that he was a Marine." Hardy interrupted.

"A US Marine. To hear Sally Hogan tell it, the Marines were the best warrior band in the world. I've heard the same from different Soldiers. Hank says that the current Capitallian Defense Organization serves a different purpose. We never send out the military for humanitarian relief to other nations. The reason Capitallia has only a minimal national police force, only one full-time military and 38 state militias and one external black operations unit is covered in a week-long module next month. The course is quite good—the kids teach themselves and we adults guide and direct their learning. I teach classes two days a week here and run this private school. I also teach in Carson City and Dayton and Silver Springs one day each week for other private schools—but I wear clothes there. I've paid off my debts long ago. Before you ask, yes, I'm a whore too. I can move out of here and just teach but I don't have to pay for sex. People pay me to have sex with them. It isn't always fun for me except that I'm in control. Not like a slave. The slave prostitutes have to service anybody they're told to service. I can reject a client—the penalties for my doing that are low. A slave doesn't get to reject a customer. When that happens, slaves lose control over their bodies. That includes the four slaves that are qualifying for their slave advocate certification."

"Do all slave advocates have to have been slaves?"

"Just the officers and they have to pass the bar on slave law. Slave advocate officers also have to be citizens. If they were already slaves, they need not volunteer for a six-month slave experience. Many assistant advocates are Legal Residents." Jones tapped his bare chest. "I'm an assistant advocate and I'm really too busy to give up six months to become an officer in an advocacy organization, but having been a mere week from enslavement convinced me that I need to get involved. Afterwards it turned out that a computer glitch had occurred and everybody was very sorry—but I was facing 25 years as a slave. Once I had fallen into the pit, there was little chance of climbing back out—not after 25 years."

"Why do you say that? You were being tried for debt, not for some criminal offense!"

"Because as soon as I was released I would be a Legal Resident, not a citizen." Larry Jones chuckled. "That's funny. A slave can hold a professional position such as teaching. Slaves are lower on the social scale than the Legal Resident, but a slave can teach. A Legal Resident cannot."

"But you get money and clothes when you leave slavery—usually a job offer as well."

"That's correct. I would have gotten three months' minimum wage as severance pay. I would have gotten a pair of shoes and a set of clothes. I would be free to take any jobs open to Legal Residents." Jones held out his hand. "Minimum wage is around $1000 a month. That is enough to rent a pallet in a flop house and to pay for minimum sustenance at the local soup kitchen. I cannot work at my former profession until I get back my citizenship. That is going to start with the taxes and fees to become a citizen. Do you remember how long it took you? I took the fast track and gained my citizenship on my 27th birthday, but it was actually several years training and preparing. I spent some time in the CDO, that's Capitallian Defense Organization—"

"I knew that!"

"I spent six years in that organization and another six years as a reservist in the Nevada State Militia while I went to school. I was a proto-citizen because of my service, but I still had to pay $8000 per year in federal tax—I just didn't have to pay the state taxes even as a reservist. When my service obligation drew to a close I had to finish the citizenship tests just like a new applicant. The normal citizen pays a uniform $12,000 annually in federal tax and another $3000 to his state. Anyone who has been in this classroom for more than six months will tell you that $3000 paid to the slave at manumission isn't going to cover any of the taxes. No citizenship, no professional licensing."

"Oh come on now!" Officer Hardy exclaimed. "You are free to take any job—"

"The average annual gross wages for a Legal Resident is $50,000 and I'd be starting at the bottom," Jones interrupted. "Then there are the required classes for citizenship, including going through a two-week militia training course that I could probably have skipped due to my military experience. Veterans that have bad luck do get some consideration, but I still would need to raise at least $36,000 to pay the annual taxes and the citizen certification fees, then I would need to live for six to eighteen months while my application for citizenship was considered—not all applicants get accepted."

"Over 90% do," the DYI officer commented.

"Former slaves have a much lower rate, something like 30%," Jones was in 'teacher lecture mode' and couldn't be stopped. "I was ex-military and that group manages a 97% success rate to achieve full citizenship—and we start out as proto-citizens. Do you know how many first-time applicants get accepted as citizens when the start as straight legal residents? It is 53%. That means the Legal Resident spent $36,000 and six to eighteen months of his time qualifying for citizenship. A lot of them drop out due to costs. Some get in trouble with the law or with debt."

"Becoming a citizen isn't supposed to be easy," Officer Hardy felt uneasy. "You make it sound like some great conspiracy."

"I've seen things. I never thought that I would be on trial for enslavement. My creditors sought a 25-year indenture and the offered to settle out of court if I would accept a 10-year voluntary indenture with options to renew 5 years at a time. I told you that I resigned." Principal Jones shook his head. "I hadn't resigned. I wasn't the only one that something strange happened to. I got lucky, but there were many citizens that wound up in slavery. I've been here 11 years. I had three friends that drew indentures for periods of 5 to 10 years. They were purchased and moved out of Nevada. I should have heard something. When I tried to get in touch with them, they were not available. I asked Hank for help."

Jones was quiet for a long time, just staring at the wall.

"I'm going to level with you," Officer Hardy said softly, "the reason you resigned was to avoid an investigation for taking liberties with high school students. We've been following that investigation for 11 years and to date no evidence has come up other than a rumor about you 'resigning for personal reasons' and that those reasons involved several of your students. So far no child has complained about you. Every investigation has come up with zero evidence."

"I did not resign. I do not abuse my students." Jones sighed heavily. "Hank traced my friends. He said that they were still slaves. The public record concealed the names of their owner but noted their sentence. They owed debts of from $11,000 to $15,000 each. If they hadn't been fired or resigned they should have been able to pay off their debts in less than 90 days—they were all salaried employees. The trials took only an hour and they had been sold up to a week prior to their trial and sentencing. I found out that I was being sold to something called MAG."

"What's that?"

"I couldn't find out. It could have been anything, Officer Hardy."

"That does seem rather swift."

"Night Owl Bondsman Training had me scheduled to begin transformation at 1100 hours and my trial had been set for 0800 hours. They objected to me paying my debt off in full three days before my trial—something about their schedules were set in stone. My attorney asked if they were refusing payment in full—and when they started stuttering he produced a document and told them to either accept payment or refuse it in writing, but quit wasting his time."

"That is irregular." Officer Hardy rubbed his chin. "The 'Criminal Punishment & Debtor Satisfaction Act of 2114' streamlined justice, but three days from summons to slavery—I can't believe that. Wait, you did say eight as in eight in the morning?"

"I did."

"That is strange. Court generally never is in session until 0900."

The bell rang again and the children rushed back into the classroom laughing and flushed.

"I need to visit your 'sweatshop' next." When Hardy saw Jones' puzzled expression, Hardy explained. "There is a lot of resistance to child labor. Any place that pays children a wage is referred to as a sweatshop. It is a term left over from the days of the labor unions. You know, keep the kids in school and off the job market."

"We all eat lunch in the dining hall. It is a big event, Officer Hardy. Would you join me at my table? I'd like to hear more about the history of child labor if you have time. Strange that people would object to a child earning money."

"Sure. Noon, right?" Jones nodded.

Officer Hardy left the principal with 36 quiet students as some of the older students began a learning module on accounting. The younger students, as children often do when around 'grown up stuff, ' watched with rapt attention.