The Luau Gets Detailed

“The people to whom your fathers told of the living God, and taught to call ‘Father,’ and whom the sons now seek to despoil and destroy, are crying aloud to Him in their time of trouble; and He will keep His promise, and will listen to the voices of His Hawai’ian children lamenting for their homes.”

~ Queen Liliuokalani Of Hawai’i

What Is the Igloo Luau?

The Igloo Luau is an event being organised for late September. We feel that people in the Free Mountain West should have a gathering, a festival, and a time for enjoying the traditional activities and crafts and foods of the Rocky Mountains. Our festival will include musical acts, speakers, presentations of crafts, and contests. Our goal is to bring people together in celebration of freedom, free markets, and the opportunities and possibilities of working together toward a better future.

Why Have a Luau?

The tradtional lifestyle of the people of Hawai’i did not allow men and women to eat together. However, in 1819, King Kamehameha II removed all the religious prohibitions and in an act of great symbolism ate a meal with women. Since then the luau has been a traditional Hawai’ian celebration of their freedom. Traditional foods are served, including kalua pig, salmon, and beer. Music and dancing are included. All these things are part of a way of life even further West than the Rocky Mountains.

When Is the Igloo Luau?

We are gathering on Thursday 24 September 2020 in the evening. We plan to have a musical event on Friday evening, perhaps with a band or musical guest of some fame. There will be crafts and games and contests on both Friday and Saturday. Saturday evening will include a luau with roast pig, dancing of all kinds, and music provided by a DJ. There will be a “dead dog” party at noon on Sunday 27 September. After that, you can stay, leave, or jump in the river (there is a river!) because you were always free and sovereign.

Where Is It?

We are currently working to reserve a campground near Bedrock, Colorado and make arrangements for hotel space nearby. We are also working on negotiating deals for overflow space in Naturita, Colorado and possibly in Moab, Utah.

Who Is Involved?

Our first corporate sponsor is which provides a multi-jurisdiction, multi-hop virtual privacy network for people who want communications privacy and data security in their work and web browsing. We are also sponsored by

The organisers of the event are Dr. Freckles Global Tontine Club, the Houston Space Society, and the Resilient Ways Foundation. Our main goal is that everyone have fun.

How Do I Get Involved?

You can get access to all the events, except the special musical performance on Friday evening which we are arranging with a music promoter in the valley, for a one-time all-in-one fee of $100 for adults and $50 for children 12 and under. That includes the luau meal and dance party on Saturday night, the dead dog party on Sunday, and access to all the crafts, vendors, booths, contests, and activities. Individual vendors may charge for their wares and activities at their booths or conducted through them.

We are working to include horseback riding, a petting zoo, demonstrations of quilting, knitting, soap making, candle making, metal forging, leather working, wood working, jewellery making, 3D printing, and other crafts. We are eager to include vendors who get two adult passes and 25% off additional passes with space for their wares for $220. Corporate sponsorships are also available.

We want to encourage crafts, so vendors showcasing crafts get an additional discount. We want to encourage musical acts, so if you sing, dance, or wish to speak or otherwise be part of the programme, please be in touch.

We are working with local people on a gun range for Friday and Saturday, afternoon hours only (noon to 5 pm) to avoid being too noisy. We are also working on an archery and tomahawk range for Friday and Saturday. Depending on how these arrangements work out, the range safety team may charge an additional fee.

What If I’m Poor?

We want to help crowd fund the participation of people who have financial difficulties. We’re well aware that 40 million people were thrown out of work by state actions this year, and so if you are struggling to get to the event, or need a fellowship to pay for your costs of participating, we’re very eager to help you set up to get the help you need. As well, we are working to arrange car pools and caravans from different parts of the country, so people can travel to the event together.

Please don’t let your poverty or any other aspect of your situation interfere with being involved. We think this event is going to be the first in a series, but it may be a once in a lifetime opportunity – 2020 is being one of those years where many things happen that seem to change everything.

What Is Gearing Back?

Gearing back is a term from the book 1632 by Eric Flint. Published in 2000, it discusses a time travel event caused by a cosmic art experiment gone wrong. A circle of special energy some miles in circumference takes a community in West Virginia in the 1990s back to the Thuringinwald in 1631. In the novel, the local people develop simpler ways of doing things that still work, knowing that their 20th Century technology has a lot of parts that wear out.

Gearing back means preparing for a future without centralised power systems, or without centralised surveillance systems, or without a huge invasive socialist government encroaching on every aspect of freedom. Some events, like a supervolcano eruption or earthquake or war or Carrington event or electromagnetic pulse can take down large parts of the infrastructure of technological civilisation.

But, remember, our recent ancestors built the technologies we see today. In many cases they built carefully and well, keeping things local, making sure that people knew how to keep things running. Later, especially in the early 20th Century, much effort was made to centralise and, thereby, make fragile all kinds of systems. There was an economic myth of “economies of scale” which were captured by those who ran government-granted monopolies and gave them opportunities to profit greatly. For many reasons, these monopolies are going away.

We think the Igloo Luau is an opportunity to get in touch with older ways of doing things. What if the grocery stores were empty for three or four years? How would you get food? Identify edible things in the wild? Locate edible mushrooms? Make tools? Communicate over long distances? Travel?

People three hundred years ago (1720) had large steam engines, complex hydraulic systems for pumping water, and many scientific methods for working in chemistry, physics, and engineering. Two hundred years ago people had incandescent lighting, gas lighting, and were working on telegraph systems, railways, and steam ships. A hundred years ago, submersible ships, aircraft, high altitude rockets, and radio communications were commonplace, and television was an experiment coming soon.

In gearing back and making robust, decentralised systems available, we have the knowledge of today and a vast array of failed experiments in community building to look at. We can learn and teach from a very different perspective because we know so much more today than we knew then. Including a great deal about what not to do.

It is in that spirit of possibility and discovery that your hosts invite you to attend Igloo Luau 2020.


Crypto Hippie
Resilient Ways

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

Beef Relief Today!

Bedrock Beef has arrived! The new company presents an array of whole, half, quarter, and eighth steers for any family’s enjoyment. These are shipped fresh from our ranches here in Bedrock to any home on dry ice.

We have two types of cattle here in Bedrock. Corn finished steers are available year-round. Grass fed beef is tastier, and we harvest in October 2020. Customers wanting to reserve a grass fed beef order can pay half in advance.

Everything is ready to go, and we’re eager for questions.

Our work is in response to the recent concerns about large scale meat processors. Many ranchers here have been told that they may not be able to sell their herds due to the Corona Virus affecting the meat processing industry. Rather than destroy their herds, the ranchers have joined together with local butchers to make this new project happen. Bedrock Beef is about helping customers buy the beef they want and helping ranchers get their cattle to market.

Energy isn’t just about calories and nutrition, sometimes it’s about just that; energy. When you eat livestock, you are getting two types of energy- both caloric as well energetic. You pick up the frequency and vibration of the foods you eat. Filing your diet with positive energy sources is hugely important. It matters how your food comes to you. It’s important to source food, especially meat products, from a positive place.

Our cows are treated well from their birthing process to where you see them as an end consumer. Our cattle are exclusively pasture raised in the mountains and valleys of Colorado. They eat diets of some of the best alfalfa and cleanest spring water. We care for them and treat them well, We even go so far as to meditate with them and play music for them. If you have been paying attention, you know that we are looking at some food shortages. Specificallly meat.

One of the issues on the supplier side is that these shortages are predicted, and they have been told to cull livestock and dump milk, meaning we are looking at the lost lives of millions of animals this season. Our goal is decentralize this portion of the food chain as best we can, by providing beef directly from these farmers to you. Help us with a win win solution – you need to eat we need to move these cows (day this part better too) and you get great value for your money in uncertain times. This is one worry you can check off the list.

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Igloo Luau registration


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth. Visit today!

The Crime Recorder

“It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

Americans are currently faced with the fact that the people who police them are willing to murder them in broad daylight. The ideas that police should be an occupying military force within the cities, that they should be a source of fear and terror among the people, and that they should enforce violently various statutes that include a dizzying array of non-violent but prohibited behaviours seem, to me and many others, to be ideas that are completely inconsistent with a free people and a free country.

Leaving aside as irrelevant all the defences that are typically mounted about how the police are a thin blue line (690,000 law enforcement in a country of 332 million) and that there is a war on the police anyway so of course they must be garbed for war and deliberately brutal, and the always flavourful “if you don’t like the laws get them changed” let’s look at what functions the police have been doing that we may wish to see done.

No, seriously, it is totally okay if you wish to debate the merits of police agencies shooting and killing 1,004 Americans in 2019 and killing more in other ways. You are welcome to explain all about the essentials of police brutality, and when you get done, please go on to explain why overseers whipped slaves. Also, if you wish, please go over the vast array of thousands of laws and regulations Americans are expected to obey, the need for prison sentences for non-violent crimes, and do let me know why you believe Ross Ulbricht is serving two consecutive life sentences and forty years for building a free market web site. Then you can go around to all 2.5 million Americans in prison, all 3.8 million on probation, and the million or so on parole who are all expected to be watched and pay fees and obey endless more rules. If you don’t believe there is a prison and probation for profit industry, you may be beyond help.

Police Reports

If the police ceased to exist today, what functions they perform would be needed? One example is the police report that insurance companies insist must be made available to them in the event of a crime or tort. If someone hits your car or breaks into your home or in some other way does damage to you physically or economically and you plan to file a claim against your insurance, your insurance company may make the seemingly-reasonable request that the police be summoned to make a report.

Now, summoning the police has been fraught with peril for the entire time since 1829 when Sir Bobby Peel formed “the bobbies” or the Metropolitan police force in London, one of the first police agencies inflicted on contemporary society. Calling the police can mean that people you know get arrested, things you own get stolen by the police, people get beaten, men or women get raped, dogs get shot, and fairly often, someone gets murdered. Is it possible there may be another way?

Recently I was reading The Fourth Protocol by Frederick Forsyth which includes a scene of a group of skinheads beating a Russian sailor unconscious a few miles from the docks in Glasgow. Two “police constables” arrive on the scene, summon help, an ambulance takes the sailor to hospital. One constable is going through the worldly possessions of the sailor when he wakes up, sees his stuff being pawed at, makes a grab for some of it, then, perhaps disoriented from his recent concussion, runs through the hospital, upstairs, and eventually throws himself from the roof of the building. Combined with recent events in American cities, this sequence of events in the book got me thinking.

What if there were people who provided “crime recorder” services? They need not be employed by government. They would need to be trained and have some sort of mutual certification procedure. Various guilds and trades have always spoken for members of their own profession and held them to standards, so the certification need not be governmental.

The function of the crime recorder is to make a detailed record of what is reported by the victim or victims, what is reported by available witnesses, what the crime scene looks like, and collect materials that may be relevant. A crime scene investigator is a similar profession.

Of course, today’s crime scene investigators work for police agencies and city governments and therefore are prone to hide exculpatory evidence when ordered to do so, and lie about what they’ve actually seen when it comes time to confront a police officer with wrongdoing. The process is called “testilying.” Yes, police have a special word they use, “testi-lie” to describe lies told for the good of the police union, the good of the gang in blue. They like to lie about what has happened, in order to complete the process they favour: the police investigated the police and exonerated the police.

Nevertheless, you can see where a crime recorder could provide a useful service. A crime report would be akin to the police report we now obtain by taking the dangerous step of summoning the police. A crime recorder would provide a record and a written report, making available photographs, videos, audio recordings, witness statements, and perhaps collecting physical evidence where relevant. A crime recorder could also make reports on suspected torts – acts of negligence such as auto accidents.

Crime recorders would not need to be in uniform, but perhaps they would have a sigil or badge of their profession. They would not necessarily have an IQ below 105, or whatever standard is kept presently for police officers. (A recent court case showed that a police agency may discriminate against someone with an IQ of 125. Apparently the “average” is 104, so slightly above the population average of 100 IQ.) A crime recorder would not necessarily work for the government. A crime recorder might not belong to a public service union and might not be expected to support the police in all matters. It would be possible to have independent and competing crime recorders working to find the truth.

Truth Matters

It seems to me that the first victim in every war, including the ongoing wars against poverty, crime, terror, and drugs, is truth. Yet the truth is very important.

Prosecutors like Kamala Harris cannot be interested in the truth, because the truth may stand in the way of convictions. Prosecutors get more money if they get more convictions and they get higher offices if they get more convictions, so they have no interest in telling the truth, nor in presenting the truth in court. They especially don’t want defence attorneys to ever know the truth. Prosecutors get a share of the profits from keeping a lot of people in prisons, forcing their relatives to pay for collect calls from prison (at absurd rates per minute for each call when flat rate “anywhere in America” calling plans are available for $25/month) and putting them on a “pay the state for years” programme. Prosecutors, in short, are evil.

Public defenders are only somewhat interested in the truth. If they are able to fumble around and discover the truth on behalf of one of their court-appointed clients, great. If not, they are quite adept at encouraging their clients to plea bargain so that the prison and probation for profit industry is fed another living victim. Public defenders are not good at locating the truth, and often are not provided much in the way of investigation time nor investigatory staff. Of course, prosecutors are provided not only with endless time to investigate – they can ask for and get a continuance quite easily from any court – but they are also provided with numerous investigators, coroners who will fake evidence or lie about findings, detectives, police officers, and bureau-rats who will either look for information or make it up out of whole cloth. So, of course the system convicts most people it arrests, or gets the public defender to plea bargain their client, or makes it very expensive for a person to prove they are not guilty. The system doesn’t actually care about the truth.

But a crime recorder wouldn’t be involved in all those aspects of the situation, and could be prevented from sharing in the profits of the prison and probation for profit industry. So, perhaps the concept of a crime recorder is worth considering.

Goodness knows, it would be wonderful if finding the truth were important to someone in the criminal justice industry. If the truth were sought, perhaps it would begin to resemble something like justice, and stop being so clearly a “just us” system where those in power are corrupt beneficiaries of their system, and everyone else is a potential victim.

The truth shall set you free.

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

See you at the Luau?

“Round river rocks – local landscape yard called them Montana Round River Rocks 4″-8″. The key is that they are round, never touched saltwater, and don’t crack easily. Steal one rock and throw it into your BBQ on high for an hour….did it explode and kill you? no? good buy a whole bunch more..”

~ Traditional Luau Pig Recipe

Festival Time!

On the most recent Little Saigon Report podcast with Dan “Commander Koenig” Sullivan, he and I discussed hosting a festival in Western Colorado we are calling “the Igloo Luau.” We’re still working on details, but if you want to participate, hit me up.

We’ll have a barbecue pig on Saturday night 26 September 2020 which will be “Igloo Luau Hawai’ian Shirt Day” wherever you are. So if you cannot come to Naturita or Bedrock or Paradox or wherever we end up hosting this event, you can participate in solidarity by wearing a Hawai’ian shirt and, if you wish, eating some barbecue pork. And if pork’s not your thing, eat whatever you wish.

We’re thinking that early bird special will be $100 for the whole event, and corporate sponsors can play for $300 each until we get a lot more ambitious and have thousands of people attending (in the third or fourth year, or sooner, who knows?) or until we say the price needs to rise. Your hosts for the show are Dr. Freckles’ Global Tontine Club (DFGTC.ORG), Houston Space Society, and the Resilient Ways Foundation.

Things are likely to kick off Thursday with an evening gathering. People who want to camp will be able to get into the camping area, people will get the special rate at the conference hotel (which is likely to be some distance from the campground), and there will be a reception that evening for those who like to get involved early.

Friday will include events like panel discussions, demonstrations by exhibitors, mountain biking, horseback riding (bring your own or rent nearby), presentations by speakers, and some sort of dance party Friday evening.

Saturday will have more of the same, plus the exhibit spaces will be fully operational so the corporate sponsors can get full value from their involvement. Plus we’ll have some 3D printers on hand if we get a related corporate sponsor, and some other fun activities.

Sunday will be for breaking down tents and hanging out or moving on, plus some sort of “dead dog party” around noon.

There will be meals available, and we’ll have some sort of advanced registration.

Guns Welcome

The nearest metropolitan area of any sort has a city ordinance encouraging people to keep and bear arms. We also plan to have an archery area and if we can make arrangements with suitable range safety, there will be a gun range. Tomahawk training if someone wants to bring those and hold a class.

You are welcome to organise an event during our event and we’ll even help you pimp it to the pre-registered and here on this site. So if you want to speak, or show people how to make something, or if you want to sell stuff, or if you want to be a musical guest, or if you want to be involved any which way, please get in touch.

Quilting bees? Sure! Knitting circles? Why not! Craft demonstrations on making candles, making soaps, a pie cooking contest and a pie eating contest? We’ll make it sew!

If you know a glass blower, and they want to set up to demo, let me know, that would be fun. If you have some project you’d like to get started, or demonstrate, or talk about, let me know.

Also, if you want to build an airship, let’s get that started, too!

Things are still in the planning stage, but it is not too early to get involved. Remember to register early and often!

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

Burning the Precincts

“These people are not afraid of all violence: only of individual violence. They have no objection to battlefields, and policemen, and electric chairs, and other ornaments of the present system. So long as violence is committed in the name of the State they are happy. As a matter of fact the voluntaryists don’t propagate violence. They only struggle against what already exists, and it is necessary to defend against violence with violence. That is the only way that a new peace can dawn.”

~ Emma Goldman, 1909

The American people have been patient for decades while the police murder more and more of us. Last year, the police murdered over a thousand Americans. Police unions are against any form of oversight, any meaningful review of police conduct, and will not tolerate dissent within their ranks. All police are volunteers, none are conscripted. They chose this work, and they chose to cooperate with those police who commit crimes in the name of their fraternal solidarity.

The people in power never have any control except such control as 332 million Americans are willing to provide through patience, some obedience, and limited responses. There are 200 million Americans who live in a home with one or more guns. The government counts “firearms” and claims only 87 million Americans “own firearms” but many guns are not registered with any government, and many guns are not as-defined firearms. I believe there are over 750 million guns in America, and since 3D printed guns have a marginal cost of $8 plus electricity, millions more are on their way.

Tonight, at 01:00 east coast time on Friday 29 May, there are two police precinct buildings in Minneapolis which are on fire, and I gather police retreated from both locations. The people have captured the buildings and have taken possession of all the equipment their tax dollars paid to provide them.

Those in power may ask: How did we lose control?

Quite simple, really. You never had control. We had patience. We were frustrated by the ways you treated Americans, the ways you allowed police to murder us, and we have been outraged by the prison for profit industry that incarcerates millions of Americans and arrests millions more every year. Yet we have been patient.

We’ve been frustrated by the red flag laws and the deaths of people like Duncan Socrates Lemp and Breonna Taylor. We’ve objected to the conduct of police in many specific instances. And we’ve patiently awaited some justice.

George Floyd was a very good man, and beloved of family and community. He was murdered, in cold blood, by a police officer, while other officers stood and watched. And now Minneapolis is on fire. Shots have been fired in Louisville, Kentucky. Protesters have been maced in New York and Los Angeles. Protesters are in other cities, too, facing the police. In all, some 27 cities seem to have active protests going on right now.

My Experiences

My first experience being falsely charged with crimes I did not commit was in 1991. It was not the last. Since then I have been arrested many times, in many states, for various reasons. I’ve never been convicted of a felony. I have been badly beaten by police, including eleven broken bones and a damaged lung on one occasion.

Also, I’ve had the experience of watching the events surrounding the police murder of Philando Castile, Michael Brown, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Duncan Lemp, and many, many others.

Some of the readers of this essay will insist that the rioters are always wrong. But, let’s remember that the riots in Los Angeles did not happen until *after* the police officers who beat Rodney King were given a change of venue and then acquitted by a Simi Valley jury. People are patient while there is some reason to believe justice may occur.

Today there is no reason to believe that the system will police the system. The police will investigate the police and the police will exonerate the police. And what are you going to do?

You’ll next want to take me to task because a Target store near the Third Precinct in Minneapolis, where the murderers of George Floyd worked was looted and burned. That store prominently donated to the Third Precinct. I gather there was a longstanding animosity between store management and the local population. But, let’s be clear, if you don’t want your business destroyed, don’t allow your government to let the police your taxes support the murder of men and women in cold blood on camera. Also, keep in mind that the peaceful protests two nights ago were attacked by Minneapolis police.

Mobs are not entities with controls. Expecting a violent mob to be rational is not itself a rational expectation. So, if you don’t like mob violence, do what you can to avoid provoking enough people to form a mob.

Target, AutoZone, Wendy’s and the other businesses were deemed essential while many small businesses were forced to close. That’s unjust, and that’s your government. Employers collect payroll taxes which go to the government after 90 days (yes, they keep that money for a while, how nice) and they collect income tax (sometimes state and local as well as federal). Businesses collect sales tax which funds the city government. And businesses pay lobbyists to get what they want, and apparently what they want is police unions to have ultimate power and police officers to have zero accountability. So, cry me a river about the burned out businesses.

The people in power never had control. They had the patience of the American people. That patience is gone, and it is time for it to stay gone.

Do the people in power want to end these riots? Then they can answer these demands:

  1. All police officers involved in crimes will be arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
  2. All prison for profit industries will be ended, and all profits from incarceration will be distributed to the taxpayers directly.
  3. Unreasonable bail will end and cruel and unusual punishment will end.
  4. All calls to and from jail will be free of charge at all times. Over a billion dollars profit was made extorting collect call fees from the families of the arrested, and none of the family members were even accused of a crime let alone convicted, so stop punishing them.
  5. Conditions at all jails will be open for inspection every day by local volunteers for humane treatment of prisoners, proper food, access to health care, and decent conditions of imprisonment.
  6. The public defenders are meant to plea bargain convictions, and the prosecutors are paid bonuses for extra convictions. These practices will now end.
  7. All records of all police brutality will be made public and all future police camera recordings (bodycams, dashcams, etc.) will be live streamed to blockchains and publicly available at all times. Those are our cameras, our tax dollars paid for them, and if you want to pretend those are our public servants, let’s see everything they do all the time.
  8. All police unions will be closed and all police pensions will be seized pending investigation of all accusations of crimes by police. Police who are convicted of criminal behaviour will forfeit all their property. Police who do not arrest the police will be fired – knowing of a crime and not arresting the criminal is police foulness and it must end.
  9. Police who are convicted of crimes will be incarcerated with the general population at all times. If the police do not like how they are treated by prisoners, they will reconsider how they treat suspects.

Unless these demands are met, there is no reason to believe that there can be justice.

There can be no peace without justice. There can be no justice without freedom. There can be no freedom without weapons. And until those in power earn our respect, we’re keeping ourselves on high alert. Our patience is gone.

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

The Year AD 5023

[Continued from Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight] [Parts Nine, Ten, & Eleven part Twelve part Thirteen part Fourteen part Fifteen part Sixteen &Seventeen Title and Art Contest] [part Eighteen] [part Nineteen] [part Twenty] [part Twenty-one] [part Twenty-two] [part Twenty-three] [part Twenty-four] [part Twenty-five] [part Twenty-six] [part Twenty-seven] [part Twenty-eight] [part Twenty-nine][part Thirty][part Thirty-one][part Thirty-two] [part Thirty-three]

“Long ago, as it still is today, it was the custom for a boy who reached a certain age to go into the forest and wait for a dream. He would build a small lodge and go without food for many days in the hope he would be visited by some animal or spirit of the forest that would take pity on him and give guidance and power.”

~ Ojibwe traditional story

Hort was a man. He knew that he was a man because he had completed his vision quest two summers ago. As every member of his tribe had done for all the generations known to the wise ones, Hort had spent a week in the wilderness, fasting the first three days, praying, exercising, eating only what he gathered, tending his own fire, boiling drinking water from the streams and ponds. He was fifteen years old when he went on his vision quest.

The vision he had was of a passageway, a place nearby. The place in his vision felt as though he had been there before, it felt familiar to him. Yet its appearance was unlike any place he had ever been.

Hort’s tribe lived in a cavern that was toward the high end of a canyon. The wise ones, Eli and Eleana, had told him the stories of their past. How the world had been created along with the sky and all the universe. How mankind had risen to greatness, become depraved, been cast down into suffering, clawed their way back again and again and again. Or, as Eli would often say, how mankind had been chained to the wheel of history.

When Hort had become a man, Eli and to some extent Eleana, became more forthcoming with answers to his questions. He had asked about the passageway in his vision.

Eli had nodded and had said, “Yes, that is a place that is familiar to me. I know this passageway. Where it would lead you, I don’t know. But I know that to approach it, you need more knowledge than you have. If you seek that knowledge, I can share with you techniques that will aid you. Since your vision tells you that you are familiar with that passageway, it is a choice you face, whether to seek the knowledge to gain entrance, or to eschew that knowledge and stay away.”

Hort had nodded in his own way, slowly but thoughtfully. He had said, “It seems like my destiny is along that passageway, and that what you are saying is that I have the choice to go there, to pursue my destiny as shown in this vision, or to remain in ignorance.”

Eli’s nod this time had been very brief, a simple down and up motion of his chin. “We live well here, and in peace. We have knowledge of the foods and the paths through the forests. We have connexions to the other tribes nearby and through them trade and commerce with peoples and lands all around us and many places far from us. Living is easy. The path to greater knowledge represented by the passageway is difficult. It is fraught with intellectual challenges, spiritual challenges, emotional challenges, and physical challenges.”

Hort had said, “Yet there are rewards. There was a feeling of fulfilment that came to me as I walked along that passageway in my vision. Nor am I able to put away the vision’s key lesson: there is information that I do not know, the seeking of which opens more knowledge. Choosing to turn away from that knowledge cannot ever be satisfying, because I know it is there. When I was a child and knew not, there was nothing missing for me. But now, knowing that there is knowledge to be gained, I cannot stop knowing it is there, even were I to choose not to look for it.”

Eli had smiled. “Yes,” he’d said, “that is a great truth. Not knowing what you do not know, you do not perceive a lack. Knowing that there are things you do not know causes you to seek to know more, and, while that way is an endless struggle against the boundaries of ignorance, it satisfies the craving to know some of what you do not know, and to learn more about the extent to which there is even more knowledge to be learned. The choices before you represent infinite possibilities no matter what you choose. The choices relating to remaining ignorant are as diverse and as infinite as those leading toward greater knowledge, but they are attached to a feeling of longing and dissatisfaction. Your vision has shown you the joys of the path of knowledge.”

Hort had turned his head aside, thinking of the choice before him. Then he had looked back at Eli’s face. He said, “You’ve spoken about the past greatnesses, the times of accomplishment, of mastery. Tell me, have we ever gotten past the wheel of history? Were we ever worthy of greater things?”

Eli had smiled, then grinned, then laughed. He had said, “Yes, we are. We are very worthy.”

Those words still troubled Hort, but knowing the ways of the wise ones, he would need to return to this topic another time. Hort had again asked if his people were past the wheel of history or not, but Eli had only smiled. Then Hort had asked about the way forward.

Eli had responded, “In order to gain entry to the passageway, you must answer questions. These are not my questions, so it does no good to ask my why these are the questions. But, since I have been within the outer foyer, I know the answers to gain entry there. Part of the work Eleana and I do here is to share the questions with you and help you learn the answers. The first question is: what shapes are the Earth, the Sun, and the Moon?”

Hort had thought only a moment before answering. He had said, “The Sun appears to be a circle in the sky and the Moon does, as well.”

Again, Eli had smiled. “Yes, I am aware of their appearances. But the question is not what they appear to be, but what they are. That is a more difficult question, isn’t it?”

Hort had nodded. He had thought back on his fifteen years. What had he seen that would help him answer this question?

Hort had said, “You drew attention to the eclipses of the Sun and of the Moon whenever these could be seen in our sky. So, if I conceive of a shape for each of these bodies, one way to test that conception is to consider what shadows are cast by each object upon the others. When the Moon is seen against the Sun, it hides an arc. When Earth’s shadow is seen on the surface of the Moon, it is always shaped as some part of a circle. For that to be true, it ought to be spherical in overall shape, but it could be open to the sky as long as light cannot pass through the entire shell in the direction of the Moon during an eclipse. I cannot imagine another shape that would match what I’ve seen.”

Eli had nodded. He’d said, “You may come to see what happens if you choose to answer as you’ve spoken just now. The next question you’ll be asked is: how large is Earth?”

That question involved a great deal more discussion, just to get a sense of how to go about finding the answer. In completing a journey of hundreds of miles, Hort had come to a greater understanding of his part of the world. Walking, driving around in wagons, and riding horseback were important skills in his culture. His people insisted that all sons and daughters, before their fifteenth year, knew how to ride, how to swim, and how to shoot. It was regarded as a matter of essential understanding to craft a bow and to make arrows.

The discussion of methods led Hort to make a rod eight feet long and to measure the shadow it cast at noon on the autumnal equinox at two locations separated by over eight hundred miles distance. He also had to develop a tool to reliably measure that distance accurately during the journey. All these activities took Hort many months.

Learning the trigonometry to calculate the circumference of the Earth was less physically rigorous, but also took many weeks of tutelage from Eleana, who was their teacher of mathematics, sciences, and healing arts. Understanding how very large the planet was and how little of it he had seen was one of the great aspects to this work, a humbling experience, but also thrilling.

There were, of course, many other questions that needed to be answered. Which planets have satellites? How far away is Venus? Why does Venus have phases, and why doesn’t Mars? How far is the Moon? How far is the Sun? How long does it take Jupiter to complete an orbit of the Sun?

In order to see the major satellites of Jupiter, Hort had been shown how to make a mirror, how to silver it, and how to shape it. With Eli’s help he had constructed a Newtonian reflector. Eli was all about the practical arts, buildings and gardens, plumbing, furniture, looms, and the harnesses they used for horses and cows. In another era, Eli would have been known as the village blacksmith.

Finally, Hort had been invited to come into the home of Eli and Eleana. As part of his coming of age ceremony, Hort would take a meal and talk with the wise ones. Since his vision had revealed him in the passageway, there had been two years of preparation. So, although Hort knew that he was a man and had been for two years, it was on his seventeenth birthday that he was to take his ceremonial supper with the wise ones and be fully embraced as an adult member of his tribe.

That day was today! Hort woke up early and filled with energy. He jumped out of his furs and blankets, pulled on his clothes, and left his hut. Having status as a man had meant building his own hut within the great cavern. Hort had chosen a location near the cave mouth, but inside one of the inner tunnels.

Children lived communally in the main cavern, where up to eighty of them would run around, build their own toys, play hide and seek, hold races, or head out into the nearby canyons and forests with their families or in groups. There were always many things to see, many things to gather, and as children grew and learned to swim, fish to catch, or as they made their first bows and fletched their first arrows, game to hunt. Families had individual huts within and outside the cavern system, some well outside it in the forest. Some huts were at ground level, others high in trees.

All kinds of foods were cultivated, including mushrooms, vegetables, livestock. There were silver lodes which members of the tribe would work from time to time. Eli would help in the work of refining, and they had craftspeople who would make jewellery or furnishings out of silver. Selling these craftworks was part of the trade network in the region, which made it possible for Hort to travel by wagon and horse to distant places.

The Vestibule

The day of his seventeenth birthday was a whirlwind for Hort. He spent much of the time with his girlfriend Joelle. She had been his constant companion since they were both thirteen. They would walk in the woods, gather foods and flowers, make crafts together, study their lessons together. As they had grown older, they had become lovers.

Celebrations of birthdays and other festivals were a part of the joy of living in their tribe. Families would craft gifts for the people with birthdays, often for weeks in advance. Joelle had a very soft pelt from a puma she had killed two years earlier when it had threatened one of the youngsters. Joelle had sent three arrows into its face within seconds, the second arrow penetrating the cat’s left eye and killing it before the third had entered its mouth.

So the occasion at that time was celebration, of course, to honour Joelle for protecting the children. For weeks after she would give lessons in how to hold arrows for fast shooting, and would tutor others in the tribe in making the shots fast and accurate. Also during those weeks, she learned to tan and treat the fur to make the skin soft, supple, and the fur soft.

Today she presented Hort with a jacket made from the fur. It was a wonderful gift, sized to fit him, with a full lining made from silk that had been brought from far to the South. There were pockets inside the jacket, including one for a slide rule that Eli and Hort had crafted to make his calculations go faster.

That evening, as the Sun was setting, Hort found Eli at his forge. Eli smiled at his young friend, whose fur jacket looked resplendent in the evening light. It was early October, and evenings were beginning to get cooler, so the jacket was just the thing to keep warm.

Eli doused the fires in his forge, arranged his tools, and walked with Hort to the hut that Eli shared with Eleana. Inside, there was a feast laid out on tables. The three of them filled fired clay plates and sat comfortably by a small fireplace eating with silver utensils.

After their meal, Eli looked at Eleana, who smiled. She said, “Hort, it is not every youngster who has the vision of the passageway. It has been seven years since the last time we have come to this point in the coming of age ceremony with anyone else. You won’t remember Siena, though, I don’t think, as she has not been back since setting forth along the passageway.”

Hort thought back in his memory. He had a vague recollection of the name Siena, but nothing about the woman nor the time of her presence with the tribe. These thoughts mixed with some concerns, though.

With trepidation in his voice, Hort asked, “Will I be coming back after many years?”

Eleana shook her head slowly. “If you are to take companions with you, as Siena did, then you may go for a long time. Often, though, there is not such a lengthy journey involved. People come and go as they are led, and as they choose. Remember, we are free. We are the tribe of the free, the Ama-gi. Whatever we do, we always live free. No one will ever make you do anything against your will.”

Hort nodded. These were very basic facts. He understood.

Eleana asked, “Are you ready to begin your journey, or do you have more questions?”

Hort thought for a moment, and said, “I don’t really know what else to ask. You’ve said that you don’t know where the passageway is going to take me. I’m not really sure that I understand, though. Eli said he has been in the outer foyer. I gather from what you’ve each said, there is a sort of vestibule somewhere, a place where the passageway begins. How is it possible that there is a cavern here that has not been fully explored?”

Eleana glanced at Eli who was busy with his dessert. He looked up and shook his head slightly, not wanting her to pass him the speaking stick, as it were. She smiled.

She said, “Hort, the passageway is different for each of us. It is not like the caverns which were formed long ago by natural processes, mostly. Oh, we’ve expanded some tight places, we’ve improved ventilation here and there, but for the most part this cavern and all of its twists and turns are the legacy of our people. We’ve lived here since before the great war three thousand years ago. The passageway is a made thing, it is an artefact. It provides access through a great many dimensions to a vast number of places. Much of the passageway is akin to a labyrinth, not in the sense that you get lost, but in the sense that it goes far beyond anywhere you could reach by ordinary means. When you have spent a few hours inside, you will come to know where you are going. If it is a distant destination, you’ll be asked to come back here to invite friends to accompany you. If it is nearby, you’ll make frequent visits when you need to do so. The simplest way to say it is, the passageway will guide you.”

Hort shook his head in confusion. He said, “I don’t understand. You say it is a made thing. Has it been here all these thousands of years?”

Eli nodded. Eleana smiled at him, waved her hand gently, then attended to her own dessert.

Eli said, “Yes. In a sense, we made it. We brought it about, anyway. Some of the elements of the passageway relate to work done here, at this location, on experimental portals. Much of the guidance systems, the guides within the passageway that show you why you were summoned and which help you understand the choices in front of you, those were designed and built, and have been kept current by people like Eleana and myself.”

Hort said, “But this is fantastic, incredible. We hunt, we gather, we ride, we swim, we go about in wagons and on horses. Yet we have access to this miraculous passageway, this gift from ancient times. Why do we live as we do, then?”

Eli replied, “We like it better this way. Long ago we chose to live here and be free. We live very long lives now. There are no wars here any longer. No one is required to stay, no one is prevented from inventing new things nor hampered in their wanderings. Anyone who wants to live another way is free to do so. One of the reasons people pass through to other realms along the passageway is to go live elsewhere. The only question that remains is, do you wish to visit the vestibule.”

Hort was nodding his head as the question was being asked. He said, “Yes, I do! Thank you!”

Eleana looked up and said, “Thank you, too, Hort. It is a great honour to have one of our students chosen to begin this journey.”

Eli nodded and looking Hort in the eye said, “Yes, Hort. Thank you. It is a joy to have a very apt pupil such as yourself.” Then Eli reached over and held Eleana’s hand.

Hort reached his hands across to each of them. They formed a circle together, each clasping a hand of each of the others. They bowed their heads in their traditional way. Then they looked up, smiled at each other, and let go their hands.

Eli stood up and walked over to a wall hanging. The purple velvet had been brought from far away, and it stood between two windows. On it was an intricate geometric design embroidered in soft colours.

Pulling it to one side, Eli took up a velvet tassel that was just the right size and tied the wall hanging so that it hung across the opening it had concealed. He said, “Here is the vestibule. Inside you’ll be asked the questions and given the opportunity to answer them.”

Eleana had lit a small oil lantern. It was made of silver which framed small coloured glass plates. Most of these were a pale yellow, orange, or green, so the overall effect was a soft lighting. Gesturing Hort to rise, she handed him the lantern when he was on his feet.

Walking up to the wall hanging and casting the light from the lamp into the chamber beyond, Hort found a small white marble seat facing a large black frame. Within the frame was a dark mirror.

Eli walked up to the frame and placed his hand atop a small gem that seemed to glow with its own internal light. With this one touch, the screen lit up with a pattern of lights and colours. It then displayed the word, “Welcome.”

Hort’s eyes were big and round and his eyebrows were as high as they would go. He had never seen anything like this panel before.

Eli came out and brought Hort to the seat. He said, “The screen will show you questions and give you information. It will show you how to enter answers by touching the screen. It’s easy to learn and a great deal of fun. When you are ready, the screen will tell you what to do next. Good luck, and go with God.”

Hort sat and smiled. He looked at the screen, then at Eli, then turned to smile at Eleana.

She said, “Good luck, Hort. Go with God. We’ll be here when you return.”

She said, “Good luck, Hort. Go with God. We’ll be here when you return.”

Eli undid the tassel, letting the wall hanging conceal the vestibule. He and his wife went outside together.

* * * *

When I was young, on a course I did steer
To change all the world with no sense of fear.
To help solve problems that all people face,
I invested my skills for the fate of the race.

Working with friends and working alone,
Learning new facts that had to be known,
Trying new methods, daring to dream
The work was quite endless, or so it did seem.

Failures and victories came by the score;
Whatever I did to open the door
Others would challenge until it was late.
Will the bet pay off? What is our fate?

Who can say what the future may bring,
Will it cause us to weep or cause us to sing?
I don’t believe in predestined fate,
The future will be what we choose to create.

Each of us working and earning his property;
Keeping it private with total autonomy.
Having such love for each of these folk
Who yearn to live free and shed the yoke

Of oppression that binds with coercion and fear.
Holding a gun or arrow or spear,
Taking up arms for defense of our selves so
No one is master or owner or slave, no

Nobody owns you or me or another.
Nobody plays our father or mother.
We live together or we live far apart
Each choosing his path be it silly or smart.

We are the tribe of freedom you see.
In cuneiform writing they say “Ama-Gi”
The most ancient way of writing we’re free,
In wedges of clay before 2000 BC.

For four thousand years now people have known
That freedom is greatest when each is left alone.
No central planners, no central plan
Can make as much difference as one single man

Or woman or child, it matters not which:
The individual holds the key, turns the switch,
Unlocks the door to the future we seek
Next century, next year, or even next week.

Destiny is what we choose to create,
It never has been a matter of fate.
We are not robots to follow in line,
Shuffling along without reason or sign.

I am just me, this guy that you know,
You are just you with your knowledge in tow.
No numbers, no license, no permissions, no crime,
Autonomous factors with reason and rhyme.

True there are those who can’t or won’t see
That initiating force is wrong as can be.
They act in great haste, they do such a wrong,
We must protect the rest who belong,

Not to each other but each to herself and
Coercing none to gain wealth or land.
The things that we want come best in exchange
For things that we have or produce in a range

Of quality and value that each of us can
Make or devise by some personal plan.
Respecting you while you respect me
Guiding each other and others to see

That all of the future is unwritten as yet
And if we work smart we may still win that bet.
Laying the base on foundation of rock
So that battered by time it will take every shock.

From bottom to top, we build to the stars,
Knowing that what awaits us on Mars
Is another world of possibility, and more
Beyond Mars to a far galaxy’s shore.

We travel through space, we travel through time.
There is no mountain that we cannot climb.
We face the future both together and apart,
A journey of miles with but one step to start.

The best thing is taking each seriously.
Respecting the fact of the autonomy
Of each person in order to give them the space
To develop and grow just at their own pace.

We are the Tribe of the Free: Ama-Gi,
Whatever we do, we always live free.

Anthem for the Ama-gi, 2000

[End book one ]


Download PDF book here.


Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.

War in Appalachistan

[Continued from Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven, Part Eight] [Parts Nine, Ten, & Eleven part Twelve part Thirteen part Fourteen part Fifteen part Sixteen &Seventeen Title and Art Contest] [part Eighteen] [part Nineteen] [part Twenty] [part Twenty-one] [part Twenty-two] [part Twenty-three] [part Twenty-four] [part Twenty-five] [part Twenty-six] [part Twenty-seven] [part Twenty-eight] [part Twenty-nine][part Thirty][part Thirty-one][part Thirty-two]

“We never announced a scorched-earth policy; we never announced any policy at all, apart from finding and destroying the enemy, and we proceeded in the most obvious way. We used what was at hand, dropping the greatest volume of explosives in the history of warfare over all the terrain within the thirty-mile sector which fanned out from Khe Sanh. Employing saturation-bombing techniques, we delivered more than 110,000 tons of bombs to those hills during the eleven-week containment of Khe Sanh.

~ Michael Herr, 1977

The Softening Up

Daylight came early on Thursday 8 June. In another twelve days, the very longest day of the year would hail the arrival of full Summer. Sadly, a great many who saw that dawn would not live to see another.

First light saw pilots and technicians swarming toward aircraft up and down the coasts and up into the mountains of Appalachia. Jets and attack helicopters began taking off just before dawn.

All along Interstate 85, from Lynchburg Virginia to the crossings of Lake Hartwell on the border between South Carolina and Georgia were deployed the tanks, troops, armoured transports, and command vehicles of the slave owners including hundreds of thousands of volunteers from the communist-indoctrinated inner cities. These forces would head upslope three hours after dawn, once the anticipated “softening up” had battered the resistance into what the owners anticipated would approximate submission. They still had no understanding of the abolitionists opposing them.

Meanwhile, their artillery crews began pounding the nearby hills, villages, and towns with round after round of shells, mostly incendiary and anti-personnel, but in some places high explosives for fixed emplacements and to shatter buildings. Where defenders were in armoured vehicles, these were targeted with armour piercing rounds from the artillery units, although many such vehicles were hidden from view in caverns, hollows, entrenchments, inside buildings, and in other ways.

Some aircraft were aerial reconnaissance, now necessary because the orbital assets of the slave owners were being rapidly destroyed, ever since the late Tuesday victory in the space war by the freedom alliance. Isaac Vossius’s name was on the lips of all the freedom enthusiasts worldwide who had followed the events in orbit. His sacrifice was not in vain.

In the early light, behind the first ridge line, all along that route, men, women, and children began to inflate balloons of various sizes. In some places, there were pressurised tanks of helium, in other places hydrogen was used. As the first owner aircraft began to dot the eastern horizon, hundreds of thousands of balloons were released, each carrying aloft a cable, chain, or small piece of metal. As the jet aircraft sped overhead, they met the rising clouds of the smallest balloons coming out of the West, carried on the prevailing wind. Dozens of aircraft sucked these into their air intakes, flamed out, and came out of the sky – here and there crew members were able to eject successfully.

The coordinated offensive continued. Now attack helicopters were sent in to wipe out the rebels manning the lighter than air defence. Now these people released many tens of thousands of pairs of balloons, each set with a cable between them, many also linked to the ground by strong tethers. Various applications of nanotechnology and 3D printing had gone into some of these cables, others were simply the strong metal familiar to tow cable manufacturers.

Elsewhere, defence teams were pulling cables taut between trees, towers, buildings, and across ridges where the cable ends could be set in stone. Helicopters encountering these obstacles in their “nap of the earth” flights were quickly arrested. Some flew between balloons only to find fouling cables wrapping their rotor systems. Few of these high speed encounters were survivable.

Yet the assets of the slave owners were massive, and everything seemed to be committed in this battle. For every jet brought down, four more were behind it, for every attack helicopter reduced to burning debris, six were following.

Having done their work, the lighter than air defence crews left their empty gas cylinders and moved to other locations. Some took up positions to resist the assault waves with sniper rifles, anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns, rocket propelled grenade systems, and many other innovative weapons. Others fled back to safer locations in the hills and hollers, going to ground or taking up support roles in logistics, communications, or supply. Women and children retreated into the massive limestone caverns found all over the region, or were shepherded by loving families into deep underground bunkers.

In spite of the efforts of these brave defenders, hundreds of aircraft completed their bombing runs, attacked isolated positions, and supported the ground assault. It was as though the slave owners were throwing everything that they had at the interior of the country, to destroy those who would defend themselves from tyranny.

The Deep Fake

Deep underground at Wasp, Tennessee, there was a muted sound and much shaking of the ground with each nearby bomb detonation that exploded up above. Susan Nolan and her children gathered around Bob Nolan and Sam Smith who were about to set out.

Bill Watson looked around for Tyrone and, sticking his head through the partly opened doorway of Ty’s bedroom, found him staring at a computer screen. Bill said, “Ty, it’s about time for Bob and Sam to head out.”

Tyrone looked up. His sickened expression was disturbing to Bill, who turned his head slightly to indicate his question. Tyrone gestured him over and moved his mouse a bit, then pushed back his desk chair on its casters, as if to distance himself from the video now playing on the screen.

Bill watched the video as an actor turned toward the camera, displaying Ty’s face, and then did various terrible things to women and children. The sound was off, but from their expressions it was clear they were screaming in pain and terror. He shook his head, reached over to the screen and pushed its power button. The blank screen reflected Ty’s image, then Bill turned to face his friend.

Bill said, “You knew this would happen. As soon as we began discussing telling the world about their death camps and torture sites, you knew that they would use your images from the video to create a deep fake. We all knew it was coming, too. Everyone knows it’s how they operate, how they think, who they are. They think people who obey them believe all their lies and are unaware of their deep fake technologies. Perhaps they even think that people in the rebellion would be taken in, but we’re not. They can’t discredit you. And this video of theirs tells you how desperate they are.”

Tyrone sat with his arms crossed, looking down. He nodded, looked at his friend, gritted his teeth, and gave a slightly feral grimace, as if he were ready to tear into someone, anyone. Then he mastered himself and shook his head. He said, “I know it. I still feel hatred toward them for doing these things.”

Bill nodded, “I know. Hard to love your enemies when they’re so patently evil.”

Tyrone nodded as well. “Jesus never said it would be easy to follow his ways. He also cast out demons, and I think that’s part of what we’re facing.”

Bill nodded again and said, “C’mon, let’s go shake hands with Sam and Bob. They’re heading out.”

Hopping to his feet, Ty held the door open for Bill and followed him into the main room.

Ground Attack

All along the line of their enemy’s attack, people loyal to the rebellion began dropping highway overpasses and bridges. In many places, they were using already rigged explosives, in other places more impromptu methods were needed. Some hillsides above stretches of highway were brought down to landslide ove the road, leaving dirt, boulders, and whole trees littering the path of the oncoming troops and transports.

Some of these actions took out individual vehicles, but that was incidental to their purpose. In a few places, bottlenecks into the hills kept the enemy from advancing. In most, though, it simply delayed them while they found alternate routes. But in every case, it pinned the lead vehicles heading toward the broken roadway, forcing them to stop and make arrangements to back up the column of those following them.

As a result of having now stationary targets, the abolitionists were able to bring in attack aircraft of their own, such as the Super Cobra flown by Sam with Bob handling the weapons systems and accompanying drones. Where aircraft weren’t available, artillery shells rained down on the stopped columns. Panicked troops fled their vehicles and tried to find ways off the roads, which had become killing zones.

The View from on High

Up in orbit, Juan’s teams had spent the entire day Wednesday gathering the materials from the remnants of the destroyed enemy battle stations. Several dozen sky rods were salvaged. When the enemy attack on Appalachistan came, Thursday morning, these rods were directed at the columns of tanks heading up Interstate 26 from I-85.

Numerous craters were left where the sky rods fell. One company of tanks crossing the French Broad River were hit by six sky rods that not only obliterated many of the vehicles, but also dropped the bridge, stopping the column of tanks, trucks, and armoured vehicles behind. Again, the rebellion sent forward attack aircraft and used artillery to disrupt the trapped column.

Ann Branson sent a detailed report down to the team at Wasp, Tennessee. Analysis of the attacking formations made it clear that they were attempting to reach, with as much firepower as possible, the location where Bob Nolan’s lab was hidden. As the weary day wore on, it looked as though some enemy infantry, the irregular forces out of the coastal cities, including Red Rangers, were going to get through.

Difficult Answers

Karen Runningwolf looked into the web cam above the laptop. She said, “Mr. Difficult completed his interrogation today. Things are much worse than they seem. The owner’s whip, Antony Marcus, revealed that the owners are preparing to use nuclear weapons all over the Appalachians, in the Rockies, and wherever they think our people are found. According to Mr. Marcus, they were looking for an excuse to justify their actions. No doubt the destruction of Hampton Roads and the damage to Newport News is the pretext they were looking for. I’m sorry I don’t have better news to report. You’ll find attached to this message lists of targets recovered from the bunker where we found him. Some of these are marked highly probable from his reactions under interrogation. Every effort should be made to warn the affected populations, including our own people. May God have mercy on their souls.”

Another Cataclysm

Far away across the continent from events in the mountains of North Carolina and Tennessee there was a deep rumble throughout San Francisco. The long awaited and much feared “big one” had arrived. Seismomenters read 9.2 on the Richter scale, and the modified Mercalli intensity was rated at XII, the most extreme level.

Seismic waves could be seen on ground surfaces. Buildings collapsed. Bridges and overpasses slammed down. Underground pipelines throughout the city ruptured. Rail lines bent and sheered. Rapid transit and cargo trains derailed all over the region. Everywhere lines of sight and level were distorted. Cars, people, and many other things were thrown into the air.

Within moments of the initial shock, fires broke out. Rubble, bodies, and debris littered the city. Clouds of smoke and dust blew slowly along with an onshore breeze.

Colonies in Space

Far to the east around the curve of the Earth, the space colony lifted off its cradle. One hundred three rocket engines provided lift, and their nozzles were slightly canted to provide spin. Moments after liftoff the vehicle was hundreds of feet in the air, spinning gently for stability and accelerating.

From their acceleration stations Aamiina Hersi Kalinle and Harold Ley monitored the launch sequence with elation. Everything was going great. The enormous spacecraft headed east to take advantage of the Earth’s rotation. As its ground track crossed over the shore of the Indian Ocean, it was fifteen miles in the air.

Far below them in the waters of the Indian Ocean, a submarine had just surfaced. Crew members scurried out of hatches and onto the deck, rapidly assembling equipment and deploying an experimental surface-to-air rail gun. As they made ready to aim and fire, the new space colony continued on its ponderous way, gaining altitude and passing toward the east.

A klaxon sounded, and the captain’s voice came over the crew address system. “Stand down. Target has reached altitude beyond our range.”

All across the deck crewmen stared at the fiery apparition as it continued to rise beyond their reach. Many of them smiled, then looked around to see who had seen them doing so. Finally, they returned to their tasks, and began disassembling the rail gun.

Strategic Retreat

As Friday night fell, the enemy forces were still battling their way in eastern Tennessee. Bob and Sam had already refueled their Super Cobra twice during that day of fighting. Like a massive amoeba, the forces of the slave owners sent out one pseudopod after another. Everything that wasn’t headed toward Wasp seemed to be part of an effort at envelopment.

At 10 pm, Bob called for retreat. The people remaining in his lab were clearly in danger of being surrounded and there was no way to hold the position. Indeed, their military doctrine was against holding positions. Far too many weapons could project force into any given building, fortification, or cavern. No location was worth sacrificing men and women to defend it, simply because the locations were not the freedom alliance. The people were.

Bill made sure everyone was headed down the northern escape tunnel. Then he set the trip wires. Anyone forcing their way in would not survive the explosions prepared for them. Nevertheless, Bill wanted to leave the lab intact in the event they were able to return to it. So he left all the power systems operational. He, Bob, Susan, Mary Sue, and Clementine all had the codes for getting back in. If there were anything left to get back into, that is.

As they emerged from the tunnel, Bob and Sam’s helicopter, once again fully fuelled, came overhead. It headed up the valley toward US 25. Scouting the area, they found everything clear and reported back. Then they proceeded west along the highway to check further down the intended escape route.

As the refugees came up to the highway, they entered a long low wood building. From the outside it gave every appearance of being an abandoned stable. Opposite the road was the door they entered by. Inside were several pickup trucks and SUVs. Screened from the highway by trees were two sliding doors that Bill and Pete opened.

Susan, Clem, Mary Sue, and Tyrone drove the various vehicles out onto a gravel parking lot. Pete and Bill closed the doors behind them. Bill climbed in on the passenger side of the pickup driven by Mary Sue. Pete did likewise with the SUV driven by Clementine. Susan had her three children with her. Soon everyone was seated and heading West.

Three jet aircraft came out of the eastern sky, flying low and fast. Their sonic booms swept over the fugitives. Their cannons and missiles targetted Bob and Sam’s helicopter. Bob’s drones expended all their ammunition returning fire at the jets, downing two of them, and fighting off the missiles, interposing themselves to absorb much of the auto-cannon rounds.

Screaming in a high gee turn, the last of the enemy jets came back around. Its remaining air-to-air missiles and cannon fire from its guns overwhelmed Bob’s remaining defence systems. Sam had brought the helo up to just above auto-gyro altitude. When the main rotor system took a hit, began leaking hydraulic fluid, and started flaming up, the last jet broke off and headed for its home base. Shrapnel in his left shoulder, Sam guided the copter as best he could through its emergency landing.

As the copter crashed in a farmer’s field, Susan turned the convoy of ground vehicles down a side road. Coming through the open gate into the field, she was fairly confident that open gate meant no livestock. Flying over bumps and folds in the ground, she raced with her family toward her husband, the other vehicles following only slightly less recklessly.

Cresting the last ridge separating her from the crash site, she saw Bob supporting Sam as the two moved quickly away from the flaming wreckage. Rounds began too cook off behind them, sending tracers, shrapnel, and bullets in all directions. Somehow everything seemed to go elsewhere, but seeing the chaos ahead, Susan turned on the crest of the hill, slowed, and turned to parallel the ridgeline, getting her children back below the hillcrest away from the wreck.

As if to confirm her fears, a fireball lit the sky. The fuel had exploded. The uncontained explosion went in all directions, preceded by a ground shock travelling at the speed of sound in dirt, knocking the feet out from under Bob and Sam, followed moments later by the air shock, and then a rain of debris. Fortunately, only minor wounds were inflicted as they hugged the ground beneath them.

Having made certain of the explosion, Susan turned again and headed over to her husband. Parking nearby she and the children rushed up to Bob and Sam, who were still clinging to the dirt. Lifting his helmeted head and shaking it slightly, Bob looked up, rolled onto his side, and exposed his shattered visor. His face, battered, bruised, and cut, but mostly intact displayed a rueful grin.

As Susan, Little Bob, Kathy, and Amy rushed up, Bob said, “Hello wonderful people. It’s good to be home.”

[End part thirty-three, book one concludes in part thirty-four]

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Jim Davidson is an author, entrepreneur, actor, and director. He is the cfo of and the vision director of You can find him on as well as and also as planetaryjim. He appreciates any support you can provide as times are very difficult. See the Paypal link on this page. Or email your humble author to offer other choices. Visit for more information. Those seeking a multi-jurisdiction multi-hop VPN for communications privacy please visit For those seeking colloidal silver try Ask Jim about CryptoWealth.