The devil went to his workshop and pondered an infernal design to compensate for his latest failure. You can't keep a bad man down, as the old saying goes. Aside from the wisdom of ages, he had a vast assortment of diabolical tools and materials, as well as the labor of his many demon minions. How long he toiled, who can say. The devil rarely rushes as he has all the time in the world. At last, his work was complete. He emerged from his workshop with his most fiendish contraption yet: a cursed pen. Most things written with the pen would come true, and people would believe any words written by the pen. The devil walked the earth in search of the best victim, as he always does. He came upon a poor farmer and chatted him up. "Here my good man", said the devil to the farmer. "This magic pen will solve all your problems", said the devil and explained further what it could do. Now the farmer, though poor, was no fool. He knew not to trust the devil but thought that maybe he could play with fire without getting burnt. He curiosity got the better of him, and he traded his soul for the magic pen.
The farmer wasted no time. He wrote down all his wishes as fast as he could think of them, and most of them came true. He became a wealthy, respected, powerful king. But soon enough, he hungered for even more. So he set out to change everyone's beliefs. The pen couldn't make him God, but it could convince people he was. And so the formerly poor farmer wrote down that he was God on a piece of paper and showed it to all the kings and priests he could find. In short order, he was the emperor of earth, the most powerful man who ever lived, and had control over life and death. Alas, the pen would not make him immortal, and as he aged and drew closer to death, the devil came to visit and taunt him, saying that not only would the formerly poor farmer die and go to hell, but also his blasphemy would cause chaos and send countless others to hell. For if everyone believed a certain man was God, and that man died, then that to them would be the same thing as God being dead. All hope and faith would be gone from the world, and the devil would have the final victory.
What was the former farmer to do? He decided he would use the pen to conjure the most righteous man in history and then give him the pen. He spent his last days describing his successor's many virtues, and that very man sprang from the page as soon as he set down the pen. In the final moments of his life, the former farmer instructed the man he had just manifested on the nature and abilities of the pen and urged him to undo his mistakes. The devil came to collect the former farmer's soul and taunt the successor. However virtuous the man might be, he was sure to do evil even by accident, the devil said. The conjured man ignored the devil's insults, which is of course the wisest thing to do. He sat down at a desk and began to write. First, he made sure that he would be safe from harm and have a long life in good health. This is most reasonable thing anyone can wish or pray for. He also made it so no one, not even the devil, could take the pen from him. Next, he would carefully write about how his master had been mistaken. This was tricky since everybody in world believed the former farmer had been God, and that with his death, God was dead. The righteous man traveled the world and showed everyone he met little bits of truth he'd written with the pen.
One such bit was "a man who dies cannot be God". As he showed this to more and more people, the blasphemy spread by the former farmer began to wither. Even so, the world had become full of evil, worse than it's ever been. So he used the pen to make the same phrase appear written in the sky with clouds. This miracle was enough to set the world back to just about the way it was before the pen had ever been used, maybe even a little bit better. At this, the devil stormed up out of the depths of hell and demanded the pen back. Now the righteous man was in a bind. If he gave the pen back, the devil would just give it to someone else, and the same thing would happen. The pen was indestructible and would never run out of ink. For you see, the devil always plans ahead. It was no use to hide the pen from the devil either. Fortunately for the righteous man, he knew the devil could not steal the pen, else he would have done so already. Still, the righteous man would not live forever, and so he needed to come up with a plan. Would it work to conjure another equally righteous man and give the pen to him?
The righteous man thought about what to do for many years. He had built up a following as a minor prophet, with just the right amount of authority and number of followers. It's important not to overdo things. Most evil is just good taken too an extreme. As more time passed, he felt the end of his life was near, and he was still unsure of what to do. At that moment, an angel came and whispered in his ear. Angels rarely interfere except to nudge things in the right direction. The righteous man used the pen to do one last miracle. He made it so that it would be written in the sky with clouds: "Write only with ink!" This was clever because people are naturally contrary and tend to do the opposite of what they're commanded. And so it came to pass that a great many people, including all the ones the devil could tempt, stopped writing with pens and invented all other sorts of writing implements. The righteous man died and took the magic pen to heaven. That is the only place safe from the devil. At this, the devil gave up trying to get the pen back, and it was no use to make another one.
The is history my father wrote of the great famine as he experienced it and recorded in his diary. Here and there, he makes references to things from the Before Time which may not make sense to today's readers. In these instances, I have added my own explanatory notes in [ ].
***
June 1, 2028 - Manatee Springs, Florida
Though our legal system is informal, Lord Humungous is the final authority. When men of our tribe have a dispute, often over women, they have the option of settling it with a duel. We discourage that, as we need every man healthy and working. One man makes the challenge, and if accepted, the other side has the choice of either bare hands or a bamboo stick. The challenged man has the option of declining the duel, but the loss of face from that is so great that it almost never happens. Most of the time, when the two sides meet for the duel, they are reminded that honor has been satisfied and they are free to walk away without any fighting. Since a few days usually pass between the challenge and the duel, tempers have cooled, and their desire to fight has waned. But sometimes a fight is inevitable. It lasts five minutes or until the first man falls. The last man standing is the winner and is not allowed to fight another duel for a year. If both men are still standing after five minutes, the fight is a draw. These rules help keep the peace.
If two women have a dispute, it is settled with an archery contest. We've found that this is good way to encourage women to practice archery in their spare time. It also provides our tribe with a reserve force in case we are outnumbered in an attack. Likewise, if a man and a woman have a dispute, it is also settled with an archery contest. The shame of losing to a woman is so great that men either practice archery until they master it or are very careful around women. Because our band ended up with many single mothers, polygamy was allowed, but with a limit of four wives. I think monogamy is better, as it reduces social friction and stabilizes both the man and woman. But alas, sometimes there is not a lid for every pot, so we have some bachelors and single women. Everyone knows we need to build up our numbers for safety and continued survival, but there are limits to what laws, customs, and peer pressure can accomplish.
Homosexuality is tolerated, but rare and frowned upon. The vast majority of survivors are cisgender and heterosexual. For whatever reason, not many LGBT people survived the collapse, probably because they were concentrated in cities, which became death traps when the food ran out. Birth control can still be scavenged, but no one bothers to. Everyone sees the need to repopulate the world, even though our children will grow up in harsh circumstances. I'd like to have children of my own, but the opportunity has not come up. I have a certain amount of status as our tribe's shaman, so some women approach me, but they have all been single moms. I'm not keen to raise another man's children, but I have much respect for the men who do. It's a tough job with a lot of risk and few rewards. We haven't had any divorces, but the process is simple. Men get all the property and women get custody of the children. Thus, there is no incentive for woman to marry a rich man with the intention of divorcing him later.
Alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana are legal and freely used, though alcohol is the drug of choice. Tobacco is hard to come by these days, but it can be scavenged here and there. It wasn't a priority for looting during the collapse. Marijuana can be grown here, but people would rather spend time growing food instead. Use of other drugs is rare, though some people have looted painkillers from pharmacies and hospitals. We can only provide basic medical care, but we do try to help the sick and injured. At first, there were a lot of underweight and malnourished people, but that's mostly gone now. Still, a disease outbreak could wipe us out. I've lectured people on the need to keep our drinking water clean. Most people filter it through cloth, but some boil it to make sure. Others mix in small amounts of chlorine or bleach and hope for the best. Down in Cedar Key, people make their own solar stills with plastic.
There are occasional crimes, mostly theft. Those accused are given a chance to defend themselves at the court of Lord Humungous. Both sides present evidence, and then Lord Humungous, me, and a few others chosen as judges decide the case. The usual punishment is restitution to the victim and a public beating with a stick for the thief. The beating stick cannot be thicker than the thumb of the person wielding it, but came be of any length or type of wood. The strike zone is the convicted criminal's bare butt when they are on their hands and knees. A maximum of 10 strokes is allowed. For some other crimes, shunning or banishment is used. We talked about using the death penalty, but it hasn't come up yet. If it does, we've agreed to do public hangings and leave the corpse on display for a few days. The hanging tree has been picked, and a noose dangles from one of the limbs as a warning. I hope we never have to follow through with it.
On the whole, life is good, or at least a lot better than it used to be. We are safe and there is enough to eat. I remember times in my life before the collapse when I wasted so much time worrying about trivial things. These days, I'm just happy to be alive. When you have it easy, it's easy to be upset over what you want and don't have or whatever little thing goes wrong. With hardship comes a more mature perspective. My basic goals are to stay healthy and stay alive. I figure if I do that, most of the other stuff will come automatically.
July 1, 2028 - Jacksonville, Florida
Lord Humungous decreed that I take some men and ride to Jacksonville, and make contact with the people living there, if any. I went with Lee, some of his closest followers, and some of mine. We rode on bikes for over 100 miles to reach the city. Near the outskirts, I heard shotguns cocking, and some black men emerged from the foliage. I held the white flag of truce in my hand, and said I bring greetings from Lord Humungous, ruler of Manatee Springs and many other realms and territories. That was an exaggeration, but in these cases, it is often wise to bluff. One of the guards spoke. "Yo dawg, this be the turf of King Big Daddy. Whachu want?" I explained further that we wished to meet with the king, maybe discuss trade or making an alliance. The guards beckoned us to follow. We were led into the city into a church. Inside, it was oddly festooned with both Christmas and Halloween decorations. Flickering candles added to the voodoo flair. At the front of the church, where the altar has been, there was a throne. Upon it sat a large man dressed in a purple three piece suit and wearing a top hat. He was smoking a cigar as two women gently fanned him.
I approached the king, gave a polite bow, and repeated the message I gave the guards. The king was silent for a moment. He took a few puffs on his cigar and eyed us up and down. Finally, he spoke. He said we should not have come, as he suspected we were scouts for a hostile army. He could have us disarmed and killed, but that would surely provoke some kind of retaliation. The safest course of action then, was to keep a few of us prisoners and send the rest back. I said that Lee and myself agree to stay. As a counteroffer, I suggested that two of their men stay with our people while we remained in Jacksonville. That way there was an equal exchange of hostages. The king was intrigued by the suggestion and agreed to it. He gestured to his guards, who led the rest of our men back the way they came. As they left, I shouted to my men that they tell Lord Humungous to accept the exchange of ambassadors. The king was pleased with this sudden change of vocabulary. We may still end up going to war with them, but for the time being, I wanted to preserve the fragile peace.
The king ordered his servants to bring chairs for Lee and me. He said that as long as we answered all his questions truthfully and respected the local customs, we would be treated well and released eventually. He asked us many questions about our settlement, including its size, location, and how we survived there. He also asked about our weapons and how many warriors we had. I told the truth even though he would probably think we were lying. I couldn't think of a good way out of that predicament. He asked us about our background and beliefs. To my surprise and alarm, Lee was truthful about his racial beliefs, but the king was not offended. In fact, he praised Lee for his honesty. I asked if there had been a race war in the area. The king said there had been, and that black people from many areas had fled to Jacksonville to find safety in numbers. He also said there was a lot of lingering hostility and resentment toward whites, and that would be hard to change. Even so, he was hopeful for the future.
I asked about the church decorations. The king said that a disproportionate number of Haitian immigrants survived the collapse, and voodoo was the majority religion now. Ethnic Haitians were the ruling class. This led to a certain amount of pushback from other blacks, but they were put in their place, explained the king as he pointed to a row of skulls off to one side. The black man is different, he said, and requires the firm hand of a strong ruler. Otherwise, there is chaos. Lee nodded in agreement and said for similar reasons, he believed the races should stay separate, though some exchange is good and acceptable. The king wondered aloud how we might trade given the distance involved. There was also the matter of what to trade. In the end, I suggested that if we agree not to make war on each other, that is a good enough result of our relations. I told him about our brief war with El Jefe and his bandits. The king said I won a great victory and asked if I had taken El Jefe's skull. He was pleased that I had and made a totem out of it.
He said that I seemed to be a stronger leader than Lord Humungous and asked why I had not killed or banished him. Here I had to be very careful with my answer. I said sometimes it is better to accept a small defeat to avoid a greater one. Becoming an underling was the lesser of two evils if the alternative was a bloody power struggle. The king sighed and said he'd have a much easier time if only his people were equally sensible. He added that someday I will be forced to either kill Lord Humungous or flee from him. The king said we were like two roosters in a barnyard. In the end, one always kills the other. I asked the king how he dealt with his rivals. He said it's best to kill them, and the sooner the better. But when it is not possible to kill them immediately, you must terrify them so that they are too afraid to act against you. There is a delicate balance. The king also said it is best to eat your defeated enemies in public and invite your closest followers to do the same to test their loyalty. The king laughed when I said I hoped I would not need to follow that advice.
Long ago and far away, there lived a little lamb with its flock. Though the rams were strong protectors and the shepherd kept a watchful eye, the lamb heard many tales of wolves devouring sheep, and so was miserable and afraid. One night, when the moon was full, the poor little lamb woke up from a nightmare where it was being chased by a wolf. "Oh, how I wish I was a wolf and safe from harm", said the poor little lamb. The devil, who is always nearby when such things are said, appeared at once and patted the little lamb on the head. "Your wish is my command", said the devil, who then snapped his fingers, and poof! the lamb was transformed into a wolf. "You best run now into the woods before the shepherd sees you", the devil warned. He laughed as the lamb-now-wolf ran into the deep, dark woods.
It ran until it found a small cave and crept inside. It was tired from all the running and soon fell fast asleep. When it woke in the morning, its stomach was growling. As a lamb, it never wanted for food, for the green grass of meadow stretched for miles. Now it had to hunt and kill in order to eat. Soon it caught a scent and followed it until in pounced on a rabbit. "Spare me and I will grant you a wish", cried the rabbit. But the ex-lamb was starving, and so it tore the rabbit to bloody pieces with its fangs and gobbled them up. Days turned into weeks, and the lamb-now-wolf had all but forgotten its former life. It grew large, strong, and fast from hunting and soon became the most fearsome creature for many miles around.
Eventually, it grew so bold that it began feeding on sheep from its former flock. When the shepherd came to chase it away, it mauled him badly. Though the shepherd survived and gave the wolf a good beating with his crook, he wanted to kill the wolf to keep his flock safe. He went into town and hired a hunter. The hunter was eager to earn the bounty and bolster his reputation, so he set out at once into the deep, dark woods where the wolf lived. When night fell, he built a fire and roasted some meat, as he knew the scent would attract the wolf. He put the fire, hung the meat from a tree branch, and climbed up the tree to wait. Sure enough, the wolf came. As it reared up to grab the meat, BANG! the hunter shot the wolf dead. But the wolf still had the soul of lamb, which flew up to heaven. No creature as gentle as a lamb ever goes to hell.
The lamb was greeted by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. He scolded the lamb for being wicked, but the lamb protested it had been tricked by the devil. Saint Peter said that everyone knows only a fool makes a deal with the devil, and the lamb was ashamed. He told the lamb it could not be allowed into heaven, but it was free to wait with him outside the gates. Saint Peter patted the poor little lamb on the head, and the remorseful lamb lay down at his feet. After some time, the lamb remembered the rabbit and asked Saint Peter about it. He told the lamb that the rabbit was an angel in disguise sent to help. Now the lamb felt even worse, though a bit relieved since he did not actually kill that time. Saint Peter reminded the lamb that blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Time passed. The devil is not allowed in heaven, of course, but he sometimes visits Saint Peter. When he saw the lamb, the devil taunted it by saying those who wish to prey on others will inevitably become prey themselves. The lamb wished it had learned that lesson before meeting the devil, as we all do. The devil offered to take the lamb to hell for a visit. Saint Peter warned the lamb not to go but added that the devil has no power to keep a lamb in hell. The lamb was curious and foolish, and so followed the devil into hell. It was worse than anything the lamb could have imagined. There was lake of fire, demons with pitchforks, and the screams of unforgiven sinners. The devil asked the lamb its opinion, and the lamb stomped its hoof and said it didn't like the place one bit.
The devil beckoned the lamb to follow deeper into the underworld. He pointed up, and there chained on the wall was a miserable wretch. It took some time for the lamb to recognize the poor soul as his old shepherd. The lamb asked the shepherd why he was there. The shepherd replied that he had fallen into evil after getting a taste of violence when he fought a wolf. "I became a robber and roamed the land preying on innocent travelers", said the shepherd. "One night at a tavern, I got in fight with a hunter. I stabbed him and then was hanged for murder." The lamb explained how it had been tricked by the devil and that it had been the wolf that the shepherd beat.
The devil told the lamb the hunter is down here too, for he became proud and quarrelsome after killing the wolf. "So you see", said the devil, "I got all three of you to send each other to hell." The lamb became angry but remembered Saint Peter's words. The lamb told the hunter that if he could grab on somehow, the lamb would drag him to the pearly gates. But the hunter's hands were chained. The devil laughed, for these are the moments he lives for. The lamb told the hunter to chew off his hands to get free, then bite the lamb's tail and not let go. The hunter did so, to the devil's amazement. Then the poor little lamb began dragging the hunter all the way up out of the depths of hell back the way it came. As it passed the shepherd, the lamb cried "don't worry, I'm coming back for you." At this, the shepherd began gnawing his hands off to get free. Now the devil was really getting worried. All his clever work was about to be undone!
So he summoned his demons who poked and prodded and burnt and whipped the hunter in hope that he would cry out in pain and thus let go of the lamb's tail. But he held fast, and the lamb slowly but surely dragged the hunter all the way out of hell to Saint Peter at the pearly gates. Saint Peter could hardly believe his eyes. The lamb told Saint Peter he was also bringing back the shepherd. And so once more, the lamb descended into the depths of hell, with all its fire, smoke, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and let the bloody shepherd bite his tail. And the lamb dragged him out of hell as the devil and all his minions did their damnedest to make to make the shepherd let go. Once more at the pearly gates, a stunned Saint Peter said all three had earned their place in heaven. The lamb was about to enter when it remembered the screams and sad faces of all the other damned. And so, to this day, the lamb is dragging sinners out of hell one by one, just to spite the devil.
Lee and his followers have integrated well with us here. We had to send more people back to Palatka to retrieve all the guns, ammo, and reloading supplies and tools. We've been collecting our spent brass in anticipation of being able to reload it. It has greatly boosted our morale and confidence. Lord Humungous is eager to make war on someone with our newfound advantage. I have cautioned against that, as the longer we wait, the less ammo our would-be enemies will have. They will exhaust their precious stockpiles on frivolous squabbles and be forced to use bows and arrows, or even slings and spears. Instead, I suggested we build an alliance with our immediate neighbors. We already are making each other prosperous through trade. Perhaps we can raise a coalition army and march on some more distant foe. We can't risk all of our men at once. A large portion need to stay behind to work and protect our settlement.
Lee has some technicians among his men. They managed to get power from the solar farm to the pumps that fill the water towers. Chiefland has running water again, and many of our people have moved from the spring into the town's abandoned houses. I'd prefer that we dig wells as a more lasting solution, but this will do for now. Lee himself does not share the Lord's enthusiasm for war. It seems he's had his fill of it, though he is intrigued by our system of slavery. I suspect someday he will want to go out on raids to capture more. The Lord, Lee, and I agree that sooner or later, some group led by a warlord will succeed in conquering all of Florida, and that process will continue with regional warlords in other parts of the country until the country is unified again under a single government. That will take years though, and our main challenge now is building up our numbers. We're still at least 17 years away from having a new generation of soldiers.
We mulled the idea of conquering Gainesville or Ocala or both, not just for slaves and land, but to capture women. I find a lot of the war talk repulsive as there have already been so many deaths, civilization has been all but wiped out, and our species itself is hanging by thread. There was a science fiction story I read once where a comet hit the earth, bounced off, and took with it a group of soldiers and explorers from different countries. Instead cooperating to survive in their new hostile environment, they carve out territories and plot conquering each other. It must be human nature to do such things, though people do often cooperate rather than fight in some truly dire circumstances. Our social cohesion is strong despite great religious diversity and minor racial diversity. I've mentioned to the senior leaders that our situation is like that of the Founding Fathers [the men who established the United States]. It is within our power to remake the world.
It is warmer than the same time last year, and there are more signs that nature is healing. At night, the crickets chirp and there are scattered bunches of fireflies. The owls hoot and the bats fly out at sunset to feast on insects. One of my hopes for the future is that we will try harder to work with nature rather than fight it and try to bend it to our will. The mosquitoes have returned, but not in great numbers fortunately. We've scavenged bug repellent, but in the long run, we will either have to move away from where the mosquitoes live or sleep under mosquito nets. None of those are readily available, so we would have to improvise and make our own. I've advised people to make note of wherever they see standing water so we can drain it or fill in the hole. Florida was sparsely populated because of mosquitoes and heat all the way up to the early 20th century.
I've given a lot of thought to our economic system and its future. Barter is still prevalent and is the main form of exchange, but cash is being used here and there. We don't have any taxes, and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible. We also don't have any banks, but at this point, we don't need them. Banking will probably be one of the last aspects of the old order to return. Historically, governments used taxes to pay soldiers, but in our case, the promise of loot, slaves, and women is more than enough to motivate men to fight. That was the case in ancient and medieval times as well. I'd prefer not to have a standing army. It's all too easy for some ambitious general to use professional soldiers to seize power for himself and usurp the government that hired him. So for the time being, we have no official military. The winnowing process of the collapse has turned just about every male over the age of 15 into a soldier of some kind. Warrior is a better word as our battles have been of a prehistoric character.
Once I read a quote from a 19th century tribal chief. He said that before the white man came to this continent, there were no taxes, no laws, men spent their time hunting and fishing, and women did all the work. And the white man thought he could improve this situation? I'm inclined to agree with the chief. Industrial civilization was prosperous, but it was fragile. That's why it broke and won't be back for a long time, if it ever comes back. We'll just have to get used to having a primitive lifestyle. The work we have keeps everyone busy enough, but not too busy. In the evenings, there are dances, feasts, singing, and rituals. Every man is in some sort of newly concocted brotherhood with secret handshakes and passwords. The bamboo staff has become a unifying symbol and most men own one. More were harvested from the bamboo groves of the Kanapaha garden in Gainesville where I got mine years ago.
May 1, 2028 - Manatee Springs, Florida
It occurred to me the other day that some nuclear weapons may have been stolen during the collapse. If so, what came of those loose nukes? Who has them, and what do they plan? Wheels within wheels. With enough ifs you could put the moon in a bottle. I put the question out of mind for the time being.
I have had more conversations with Lee. I've done my best to reassure him that he and his people will be safe here. The goal is to rebuild and remake this land like it was in the Before Time. At least, the way it was in terms of it being safe and there being enough to eat. The sky is not so gray, and the weather is a bit warmer than it was this time last year. The earth is healing from the volcanic shock, just as it did after the asteroid impact that killed the dinosaurs. I wonder how many species have gone extinct this time. I feel lucky that I was able to see the majestic wildlife of North America and Africa up close as a young man. I was also lucky to see the wildlife of so many different places in zoos and aquariums. I dream of a world with new zoos, aquariums, and wildlife parks. Yes, we need farms, but wild, untamed nature has a grandeur that cannot be replaced by technology.
Lee has made it clear that he sees the future as for whites and them only. I told him there are many kinds of white people, and it is impossible to unite them under a single government. The best that can be done is for each white tribe to carve out its own living space. This is what happened in Europe for centuries. Lee countered that the Romans conquered most of Europe through force of arms, and the Russians, French, Spanish, and British carved out gigantic empires in a similar way on the basis of white supremacy. Even the United States was a kind of empire forged on the basis of white supremacy. Lee says white people are the rightful heirs of the world. They are most intelligent and the best at warfare and administration. He said there have been other non-white empires in Asia and the Middle East, but they either collapsed or were conquered by whites. Thus, he said, whites are the master race.
I told him that in nature, there are no master races. Species and varieties survive and spread on the basis of geography. There were no permanent white settlements in Africa until mosquito nets and malaria medicines were invented. Liberia was nicknamed the white man's grave because so many Europeans died there in the 19th century. I said all the people of world must make agreements to share the land. Good fences make good neighbors. He was happy when I told him I did not believe the human race would mix until it was all the same color. In nature, every creature is adapted to a certain role. Perhaps white people are adapted to a role where they are small in number, but rule over many. In the Before Time, whites were 10% of the world's population. Lee said that in the year 1900, whites were 30% of the world's population. What happened? Clearly, something went wrong, he said.
My response is that foolish white governments, out of guilt, spent vast sums of money giving food and medicine to Africa, which caused its population to explode. Given what's happened here, there are probably very few people left alive in Africa. It was sad, but not surprising to see that Lee was pleased by my assessment that black people were on the verge of extinction. Then let's finish them off, he said. I told him there were some black people in our tribe. They were good; they strengthened us. And anyway, the proper Christian thing to do was to treat them fairly. He was skeptical of my Christian beliefs. I said that that I saw Christianity as a beautiful, inspiring religion that encourages the best in people. Even the non-religious follow a moral code that is based on Christianity. I believe strongly in freedom of religion, but even that idea comes from Christianity.
We agreed that god is on the side of whoever has more guns. The strong do what they want, and the weak suffer what they must. Might makes right, at least in practice. But should it be that way? Regardless, I thanked him again for bringing his people to join us. There will be more battles, and the guns, ammo, and supplies he brought will make our tribe victorious. He said he is glad to have joined a white majority tribe led by whites. I suspect similar things have been said in the other racial tribes that have formed. Prison gangs in the Before Time were based on race. Skin color becomes a uniform in hard times. There have already been race wars, and I myself fought in a skirmish during one of them. The United States functioned well when it was 88% white. Once that number started to drop, it became hard to keep things together. The immigrants from the different countries of Europe married and interbred easily. My ancestors did. But with Africans, Asians, and so on, there is no melting pot, just Balkanization [a term referring to the breakup of a European country along ethnic and religious lines].
A dictator can herd cats and even make them dance, but a dictator must sit on a throne of bayonets, and no one can do that forever. It's far better to make and keep a country based on a common language and philosophy. That's what the founders did. I told Lee that today, we are the new founders. This country will have a rebirth. It is within our power to remake the world, and we will purge the past mistakes and evil in order to make government that is by the people and for the people. Blessed be the new founding fathers, and blessed be America, a nation reborn!
In this, the Soviet propagandists were great fools ignorant of foreign cultures. In Western Europe and North America, the sickle is a symbol of mass death.
For faster reloads of magazine fed weapons, tape the mags together so that the feed sides face away from each other. When you need to reload, just hit the mag release, pull it out enough to flip it over, and reinsert it. It saves precious seconds over fumbling for a new mag from your pouch.
The is history my father wrote of the great famine as he experienced it and recorded in his diary. Here and there, he makes references to things from the Before Time which may not make sense to today's readers. In these instances, I have added my own explanatory notes in [ ].
February 1, 2028 (?) - Cedar Key, Florida
I'm not sure what the date is, though I've tried to keep track of it. Keeping track of time used to be someone else's problem. Now, we must do the hard work ourselves by watching the sun, moon, and stars. At least we already know how long a year is, and that the seasons will come and go. The telescopes we scavenged from Chiefland Astronomy Village also help our lookouts see people coming from far away, at least during the day. A few have made their way into the hands of the fishermen here in Cedar Key. Following the whales is a good way to find fish. The other day, a messenger arrived. He greeted me on behalf of his master, Lord Humungous, who requested an audience with me back at Manatee Springs. I sensed danger, and gathered some of my whaling and shark hunter comrades to accompany me. They would be better off here gathering food for our tribe, and it pains me to pry them from their vital work.
We rode bikes the 30 or so miles to Manatee Springs. The terrain is mostly flat, and roads are still good, so it was easy going. When we reached the spring, I noticed a large new lodge had been built close to the abandoned snack bar I'd lived in. Outside it was the shrine of the gator skull. The artistry of the totem was tasteful and impressive. Anyone who saw it would recognize that it was a holy place. I bid my retainers to wait outside with their weapons at the ready as I saw armed guards milling about the lodge as we approached. If Lord Humungous had merely wished to talk with me, he could have sent a letter, or come to Cedar Key himself. Instead, he summoned me in order to put himself over me. Such games are tiresome and inevitable. All well and good, the whole village saw me arrive with my armed entourage. Word will spread that I did not take this insult lightly.
I entered the lodge without knocking. A man of my rank has certain privileges. Lord Humungous was seated on a throne of sorts. He spat out his drink when he saw me. I asked him to state his business. He rose from his throne, put his hand on my shoulder, smiled, and asked how I was. I said I'm getting by and pushed off his hand. He sighed returned to this throne. He said that we two are tribe's leaders and need to help each other. He explained that in the Before Time, he was a fireman. He was respected then, and he is respected now. The future of the tribe concerns him. In this brave new world, he said, strength and courage are the most important things. The Christians, the non-religious, and the nature-worshipping pagans lack the proper warrior spirit. He picked up the plastic Viking helmet I'd left behind, and said this is the symbol of the true path, for clashing of the swords is the song of the proud, and the path of fighting is the path of life.
Almost as a reflex, I touched the wooden cross on my necklace. Blessed are the peacemakers, I said. He asked why I wear the cross if I don't really believe. I said that for me, the cross is a symbol that people can be good if they try. Man is often wolf to man, but it doesn't have to be that way, I said. I've already showed me and my men are better hunters than you, I added, and anyway, outsmarting animals is easy. People got to the top of the food chain back in the Stone Age. He asked what I want. I said that the main thing I want is a simple, peaceful life. He asked what I believe. I said we belong to the earth, and to it we must return. We should enjoy life and take only what we need from nature. Look at how our civilization with all its technology was smashed by the unthinking forces of nature. We built our house upon the sand, and the storm washed it away. We should build our next house on a rock, as the good book says.
He asked what rock is that. My short answer was tradition and experience. Warrior spirit, whatever that means, is useless if none of our tribe's kids survive past the age of five. He proposed a deal: that he stay on as the tribe's chief and I be the official shaman, his righthand man. I said that is acceptable, though I'll disagree with you here and there. He added that all that matters is that I do not contradict him in public. He took a puff from a pipe and offered it to me. The smoke had a skunky smell and a pleasing effect. He offered a handshake, and I joined it. With that, our rivalry ended, at least for the time being. I left the lodge and retrieved my plastic Viking helmet and bamboo staff from the snack bar. Yes, there will be more battles to fight, but the most important battle is the struggle of hope against despair. As I see it, my new job is to get people to do the right thing, even if it's for the wrong reason. After all, that's all religion ever has been.
To my surprise and relief, Lord Humungous and his men produced a feast of fish, beef, goat, cheese, and potatoes, along with much homemade wine. We made merry under a cloudless, starlit sky. Later, Lord Humungous handed me a small notebook and said I should study it carefully. As I was immediately intrigued, I retired to the snack bar to read it by candlelight. It turned out that in my absence, Lord Humungous had sent scouts along all the main roads and explored a distance of about 100 miles to the north, south, and east. Their most interesting find was a small colony of heavily-armed survivalists near Palatka. My new mission was to make contact with them and persuade them to join our tribe, as their weapons and ammo would greatly strengthen us. The next morning, I gathered a crew and set out.
March 1, 2028 - Palatka, Florida
We passed through Gainesville on the way to Palatka. The city showed more signs of life than when I first passed through. The many lakes around provide ample fresh water as well as fish, turtles, snakes, frogs, gators, and other edible creatures. Father Michael passed on, and his chosen successor has remade the city into a kind of an ecumenical Christian commune called Zion. They even rigged up bicycles to power electric generators, enabling a few hours of electricity when they are needed the most. Bud is now the second in command, and many shepherds guard his greatly expanded herd of sheep. We stopped here and there to rest and buy food, which was abundant. The main thing we were interest in, however, was any information about the survivalist compound we were headed for in Palatka. What we got was vague, contradictory, and unsettling. The best we could piece together was that the group was relatively small, heavily armed, and inclined toward militant white nationalism and the Lost Cause myth [a belief about the heroism of the losing side of a war to preserve slavery].
Nonetheless, we pressed on, and soon found ourselves on the outskirts of Palatka. The warning signs we passed were increasingly dire, and included skulls and shot up cars. Soon enough, the sound of a pump action shotgun being racked stopped us dead in our tracks. The lookout emerged from his hiding place with his weapon aimed straight at me. I put up my hands to show I was unarmed and posed to threat. Who the hell are you, he asked. I explained that we had come from afar to invite you to join our tribe, as we have plentiful food and water, as well as safety in numbers. I walked toward another member of our entourage a removed an arrow from his quiver. One or a few are weak, I said as I snapped it in half. I grabbed a handful of arrows and struggle to bend them, and said but many together are strong. Please, add your strength to ours, I said. The guard lowered his gun as if to think for a moment. He told us to wait where we were.
After some time, the guard returned with an older man, bedecked in a bandolier and holding a belt-fed machine gun. He introduced himself as Majestic Cyclops Buford Lee of the Latter-Day Ku Klux Klan. Well, at least he has self-esteem, I thought. I asked him to tell us about his struggle and the struggle of his people. We were led into an underground bunker hidden in thick brush. There was a room that was sort of like a miniature movie theater. We took seats and Lee turned off the lights to show us a film. I was surprised at the improvised device given the scarcity of electricity and the difficulty of rigging the whole setup. The film explained, in graphic detail and with real footage, the race war that had happened in this part of Florida. A small group of whites had banded together and fought off attacks from every direction, and eventually succeeded in driving their enemies from the area. Their goal was the establishment of a white ethno-state and the extermination or subjugation of anyone who got in their way.
It was the sort of situation that called for the utmost discretion in diplomacy. I began by inquiring about their arsenal and gunsmiths. They explained that their victory was due to their super firepower which included gear for reloading spent brass. That was something new and valuable. If we could reload spent brass, our combat power would increase many times. I asked how well they had been eating. They said they had an ample supply of MREs [meals ready to eat, military rations from the Before Time], but those were running low. They asked about our situation, and I described our farms, fishermen, and so on. As a cherry on top, I added that our village was about 90% white, and we had fought a successful war against an invasion by El Jefe. That really piqued his interest, especially the part where I told the story of how I personally killed the warlord and preserved his skull.
Come with us, I told him, and see the skull for yourself. You and your people will be among friends for a change. Your skills will be appreciated, you will eat well, and you will be safe. What's more, together we will fight more battles, and we will win them thanks to the help of you and your people. At this, Lee's expression softened, and he offered a handshake. As I gripped his hand, I thought we had just made a new and dangerous ally. We knew the road was safe to travel, so Lee gathered his people, and we hit the road for the journey back to Manatee Springs. In my mind, I pondered how the newcomers would be received. Politics is all a matter of herding cats. If our tribe accepted slavery without much of a fuss, the arrival of these militant racists wouldn't cause much of a stir either. As a boy, much of the entertainment I saw portrayed the mixture of races as not just good, but inevitable, in spite of all the history to the contrary.
My greatest fear was that Lee and his followers would insist on embarking on an unnecessary war. Still, we badly needed their weapons and ammo. I felt as though we had just made a deal with the devil. Time would tell whether we had made the right decision. Perhaps I could unify the tribe, including Lee and his followers, around a new heroic myth. I thought of the Apollo program that culminated in sending astronauts to the moon. Cape Canaveral was a long, hard journey, but the buildings there would prove that our former country had done great things in the name of scientific inquiry. It seemed to me that many Americans had worshipped technology while others worshipped nature. Perhaps there was a way to combine these ideas.
