Star Spangled Phoenix

8/6/2019 Star Spangled Phoenix

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/star-spangled-phoenix 1/17

Star Spangled Phoenix

© 2011 Benjamin F. Kaye



1

The Death of America

The first rays of the summer sun caressed the streets of New Paris. The waves in Brittany Bay

sparkled like gems. Alexander Sanchez, governor of the Northeast District of The United Nations North

American Protectorate, sat comfortably in his chair. He opened the menu and carefully perused the

selections, not wanting to ruin the diet his wife had imposed upon him.

“Professor Sanchez – I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late.” His best pupil, Sergei

Andropov, walked briskly into the room.

“Late? No not at all. I’m glad you could come. My wife is on an extended tour of the Southwest

District and I am desperate for some good conversation.” He handed the clean cut young man a menu.

“Oh?” Sergei looked at his watch. It boldly stated the time as 8:07 AM / July 9 th / 2247.

“Sergei,” the professor laughed, “you must stop synchronizing your watch with the global

weather network – they are notoriously inaccurate.”

“Yes professor.”

“And you may call me Alexander. I’m no longer your professor and I really do hope you’re notoverly impressed with my new title.”

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s just the past and present coming together, pressing me into a more

formal mode.”

“Present?”

“Yes. Here we are in the Blue Turtle – the best restaurant in all of New Paris. The history of this

place alone is inspiring – and even a little intimidating. Is it really true that we’re sitting on the remains

of Old Boston?”

“Yes. In fact,” Alexander leaned closer, “the owner is planning to excavate the basement and

turn it into a walk through archeological site. But that’s just between you and me.”

“Incredible. Simply incredible.” Sergei shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Now was as good a

time as any. “Would you mind?” He opened his satchel and took out his copy of “The Death of

America”.



2

“It would be my pleasure.” Opening the book, Alexander held his pen above the page. You

could almost see the wheels turning in that methodical mind of his. What would that pen write? An

inspirational quote from the Constitution? A famous word or two from Kennedy? Or simply an inside

joke that never left the hallowed lecture hall? He quickly scribbled something down and abruptly

closed the cover.

“It was simply amazing. There was so much more to it than what you had presented in class.”

“But you still have questions I see. No – don’t hesitate; you know I love an in-depth discussion.”

“You were very bold in asserting that the seeds of America’s demise were sown in the early 21st

Century. I understand the connection between the shutdown of the government and the collapse of the

faith that had so long supported it. But I don’t understand the connection between the collapse of faith

and the rise of F.E.D.D. movement.”

“Now remember, Sergei, that America was a land of symbols. It was also a land of repetitive,

shallow messages, such as ‘no taxes’. The ‘Fat Elephant’ became a symbol of republicans, who hadgrown fat on the political campaign contributions from the wealthy. The ‘Dumb Donkey’ became a

symbol of democrats, who had simply lost touch with the lives of ordinary people. They were two sides

of the same coin. The common denominator was an alienation from the vast majority of Americans.”

“But why did F.E.D.D.’s message become main stream so quickly? The internet alone couldn’t

explain such a phenomenon.”

“Correct. Technology alone cannot fuel a revolution, it can only channel it. In the 21stCentury,

it was much easier to share ideas. Ideas flowed more freely than at any time in human history. Most of

them were either mundane, ludicrous, or outright obnoxious. However, some of them had merit and

enough of these ideas clumped together to form the founding ideology of F.E.D.D.”

“But….”

“Go on – say it.”

“How did people like Timothy McVeigh and Jared Lee Loughner energize the F.E.D.D.

movement?”

“Back to the shallow, repetitive messages. In the late 20thCentury, a phenomenon known as

‘negative campaigning’ took root in America. It was a process of simply repeating a 30 second message

pointing out the negative qualities of one’s political opponent. By 2021, the process had effectivelylobotomized the American public – they no longer thought about someone’s character, integrity,

dignity, or humanity. They simply knew that politicians were bad – unscrupulous, lazy, greedy, and

corrupt. By this time, most of the public had lost sympathy for McVeigh’s and Loughner’s victims. They

became folk heroes to some – not all – because they had struck back against a self-centered,

hypocritical, and oppressive government.”



3

“The other thing I don’t understand is why America, with all its power and resources, couldn’t

withstand the rebellion.” Sergei put the menu to one side as the robot placed his eggs in front of him.

“Good point. Even though the rebellion started in 2035 and ended in 2147, America should still

be standing. The only problem was that America’s enemies had long memories. They were also much

more intelligent than she was. When American troops pulled out of Iraq and Afghanistan in 2019, theIslamic radicals realized that they had won the war. They didn’t win militarily – they won economically.

When they saw the newscasts of America’s budget woes and her dwindling domestic programs, they

knew that they could simply drain her of money. So, when the F.E.D.D. movement started its own

rebellion at home, the Islamic radicals renewed their war abroad.

America’s deficit grew larger, as well as its spending on the military, while its spending on those

it was trying to protect grew smaller. Pouting politicians shut down the government more often.

America’s economic, environmental, and health problems overshadowed televised party rhetoric. By

2095, most Americans were questioning the legitimacy of a government that taxed them and drafted

their sons and daughters, but did nothing for them.”

“So 100 years ago today…..”

“The last President of the United States was killed in front of a burning White House.”

Alexander gently pushed the book back to his pupil.

“America was a grand idea, wasn’t it professor?”

“Yes Sergei, yes it was.”

Bfk



4

The Riddle

“We the people…” The words were elegantly penned in his book. Sergei closed it and pondered

the riddle. It wasn’t like the professor to be enigmatic.

“Sergei – darling – come to bed.” His wife, Chenguang, quietly slipped into the study and put

her delicate arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry dear. I guess I miss the professor.”

“It’s only been a year. That’s natural.”

“In other news,” the TV announced, “more fighting took place between South African nationals

and Brazilian nationals in New Tokyo. UN officials are considering whether or not to redistribute one or

both groups to other Districts of the Protectorate.”

“Well now we both have to stay up.” Sergei pulled his wife onto the couch. “We promised each

other we wouldn’t go to bed on bad news.”

They stayed up a few more minutes, watching TV. The book kept distracting him. It was like a

silent ghost in the room, speaking a message that he couldn’t hear. Did he have his notes from 21

st

Century Civilization? It was a few years ago, and Sergei thought about where they could be.

The next morning he hit the attic. Even the smell of Chenguang’s tea wouldn’t distract him.

The more he rifled through boxes and piles of aging papers, the more elusive the notes seemed. He

dived down into a box and pulled out an unexpected treasure.

It was a photograph of his great-great grandfather. Born in the early 22nd

Century, he had

miraculously survived the tempestuous, mean streets of Moscow. His love of history had only been

surpassed by his love of the law. It was the law, after all, that kept him from a life of reckless self

destruction. Judge Andropov had been the sternest, yet the most brilliant and dedicated judge of his

time.

“Of course. That’s it!” Sergei raced downstairs to the living room. He almost knocked his wife

over in the process.

“Oh no. I know that look. Whatever it is, I know it involves Sean – and I forbid it.” She shook

her finger at him. She knew that it – whatever it was – would happen anyway.



5

“I promise that it won’t be a disaster. It’s just one little thing.”

Sean Alloway sat comfortably in the café; some would say too comfortably. The red and yellow

neon lights gave his leather jacket an eerie glow. He looked up from the Lunar Daily and frowned. The

soft light from the plasma sheet gently drifted towards his unshaven face. Why did biscuits take so long

in this dive? His eyes drifted to the window – the earth beyond looked small, mundane, and trivial. Heturned his attention to the classifieds. His grin grew wider as the bids came in. Suddenly, his holo-disc

rang.

“Alloway here.” The shades were on and the smile was in place. Let the deal begin.

“Thank goodness I caught you.” A small 3-D image of Sergei in his living room popped up.

“Hey cousin! When are you coming up here?”

“As soon as I can renew my Moon-Flight Pass. Is yours still valid?”

“Sure, sure. You know a man like me has to be in two places all the time.” The biscuits arrived

and Sean took a bite. They were pure perfection.

“Do you have the framed copy of the US Constitution that great-great grandpa kept in his

office?”

“A silly question. It’s right in the basement – carefully preserved.” The bids in the classifieds

were coming in more urgently now. His fingers worked deftly: “Item – framed copy of the US

Constitution – lost in transit – sorry folks!”

“Really? I thought-“

“Sergei! Honestly; do you think I could part with a family heirloom?”

Two days later, a clean shaven Sean was helping his cousin hang the beloved Constitution in his

study. They stepped back and admired it. Sean had no regrets about keeping it in the family.

“You’re right – it looks really sharp here. It gives the whole house that antique look.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“No at all – if that’s your style, that’s your style.”

“To me it’s more than just an interior decorating choice.”

“Sergei – look around. The planet is moving ahead, faster than you think. Why just today they

let me know that my specs for the Mars colony are on the best qualified list. Everybody else is moving

forward; don’t be one of those who get left behind because they’re looking over their shoulder.”

“It’s not about moving ahead or standing still – it’s about what we take with us into the future.”



6

“Well if that’s what you believe, you should stick by it. I’ve gotta run.” Sean slapped his cousin

on the back and headed back to the moon.

Over the next few weeks, life proceeded as normal for Sergei. Every once in a while, late at

night in the study, he would look up at the Constitution. He could almost feel their presence: John

Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, and Alexander Hamilton, looking onand wondering what he would do next. His mind drifted back to Professor Sanchez’s vivid description

of the Battle for Independence. He could almost hear the bullets whizzing by and smell the smoke. So

much trial, bloodshed, and sacrifice – for nothing.

No. The sacrifice of the founding fathers would not be for nothing. One month later, he sent

the following e-mail to everyone he knew:

Subject: The 23rd Century Minutemen

I recently told my cousin: “It’s not about moving ahead or standing still – it’s about what we take

with us into the future.” 101 years ago, America disappeared from the face of the earth. It’s true that at

the end, there were many stains upon the Stars and Stripes. We must not dwell on why America

perished, but focus on her birth. She suffered many indignities and underserved insults; let us not add to

these by letting her history become overrun by cobwebs in some forgotten corner of a musty old library.

The founding fathers of The United States of America gave everything to give the planet America. Their

sacrifice shouldn’t be in vain. We must keep their story alive – we owe it to them.

If the above words have stirred your passion, please visit my web-site for the 23rd

CenturyMinutemen. When we have gathered enough members, information will be posted on meetings,

discussion groups, and re-enactments.

I hope to meet you on the field of battle . Whether redcoat or colonist, I know you’ll have the

experience of a lifetime!

Your friend,

Sergei Andropov

Two days later, the 23rd

Century Minutemen had five members. It was small, but it was a start.

Bfk



7

Welcome to Buffalo, NY!

“You owe me – you know that right?” Chenguang plopped down beside Sergei on the couch.

“I owe you!” He kissed her on the forehead.

“I would like some popcorn this time too.”

“I made some extra – just for you.” He handed her a bowl.

“So why aren’t we there?”

“Travel restrictions on Russian Nationals, remember?”

“I thought that expired two months ago.”

“It was going to, but the Provincial Council of New Toronto renewed it.” Sergei sighed.

“So, the Haitian-Irish council renewed it – as well as their dislike for each other.”

“It’s not a perfect system dear.”

“And no one seems willing to improve it either. Look – I’m sorry. See? Happy face.”

“Good morning North America!” Their TV announced. “We’re live from New Toronto on the

shores of Lake Erie. Today is July 4th, 2253 and the festivities are about to begin.” A fife and drum

marching band could be heard in the distance. Colonial soldiers, dressed in Revolutionary War

costumes, marched toward the city. As they passed through the city gate, the plasma sign changed

from New Toronto to Buffalo, NY. In the background of the digital display an American revolutionary

flag waved. “Welcome to Buffalo NY!” There was a loud cheer from the citizens, who also were wearing

costumes appropriate to the occasion. “Let’s have the mayor of Buffalo take it from here.”

A man stood up on the reviewing stand. He happily waved to the passing troops. He stepped tothe microphone and announced: “Welcome minutemen to Buffalo NY!” That having been said, Huang

Zhe sat down and enjoyed the rest of the morning.

“Huang! Oh my God! Huang’s the mayor! You didn’t tell me you stinker! Oh my God – my

brother’s the mayor!” Chenguang quickly called all her friends.

“I thought you’d like that little surprise.”



8

After the parade, Huang stood on the red, white, and blue platform and red the Declaration of

Independence. When he stepped down, the crew from GMNA was waiting for him.

“Simply awe inspiring Mr. Zhe. Wonderful. How long did it take to put all of this together?”

“Once we found the muskets, it was quite easy to pull off. But still, it did take 8 months to put

the festival together. I want to thank the New Toronto Chapter of the 23rd

Century Minutemen for their

dedication and hard work. Without them, this wouldn’t be possible.”

“Is it true that you also have other chapters of the minutemen participating?”

“Why of course. We have all 7 chapters of the minutemen here with us today. I just want to say

to those members who couldn’t make it – we miss you and want to see you here next year!”

“And I’ll be there next year – even if I have to change my name.” Sergei growled.

“I know you will honey – they can’t keep a good man down.” His wife gave him a quick kiss.

“How did the minutemen grow so fast in only five years?” Another reporter wanted to know.

“You can thank Professor Sergei Andropov for that. His passion for America has burst out of the

lecture halls and into the streets.”

“I’ve heard rumors of an eighth chapter starting up. Can you give us any hints as to where and

when?” The first reporter was bubbling with excitement.

“Well, right now we have chapters in New Tokyo, New Paris, New Toronto, New San Paolo, New

London, New Moscow, and New Oxford. We’re pretty well spread out from the Atlantic to the Pacific,

so we’re hoping to start a chapter perhaps in the far northern or southern part of the Protectorate.”

“This is really wonderful – bringing Buffalo, NY back to life, if even only for a day.” The second

reporter commented.

“Fortunately, much of Old Buffalo has remained intact – it’s a testimony to the people who lived

here centuries ago. Some of the institutions, like Bocce’s Pizza, are still going strong.”

“Any plans to bring anything else back from the past, like the Buffalo Bills?” The first reporter

asked.

“Well, we thought about having an exhibition football game between the Buffalo Bills and

another team. Then somebody pointed out that the Buffalo Bills lost 18 Super Bowls, so we thought it

wouldn’t be such a grand idea.” Huang laughed.

“Again, congratulations on another Independence Day Festival.” The reporter’s words were

greeted with a massive cheer from the crowd.



9

That night, Sergei sat on the back porch. Fireflies danced in the warm summer breeze. A

shooting star arced through the sky. It was such a picturesque setting, but Sergei wasn’t smiling. He

wanted to put the New Paris Herald down, but he just had to keep abreast on the latest events. For

him, ignorance wasn’t an option. One article in particular caught his attention.

Opposition to the Equal Portions Resolution Grows in the Central District

Opposition to the U.N.’s latest initiative for the North American Protectorate, The Equal Portions in

Government Resolution, is growing. Unfortunately, the opposition to the resolution is growing the fastest in

the Central District of The North American Protectorate, home to a dozen different Nationals.

“People who come to the Protectorate want to feel at home. That’s quite understandable. So they

move to where their countrymen live.” Mrs. Felicia Sanchez, wife of the late Alexander Sanchez, observed.

Mrs. Sanchez, now in her last days as governor of the Northeast District, worried however. “While people

want to be governed by a familiar face, voting for the ‘home candidate’ can lead to an isolationist culture in

our cities and provinces. This in turn could lead to further self segregation and prejudice against minority

National Groups. Centuries of American history have shown that segregation and prejudice, in any shape or

form, lead only to self destruction.”

No matter how convincing the reasoning, the opposition has dug in its heels. In particular, Reed

Johnson, candidate for Governor of the Central district, has spoken out in the past few weeks.

“We don’t have quotas in our workplaces, schools, neighborhoods, and playgrounds. Why then

would we want quotas in our local governments? The U.N. has already imposed too many resolutions upon

us, forcing us through their narrow bureaucratic channels. The last thing the Protectorate needs is another

resolution.”



10

Sergei rolled up the plasma sheet and looked at the sky. Hope seemed farther away than ever.

Bfk



11

The Answer

“I really don’t want to be here.”

“Cheng – we have to be here.” Sergei lit his candle.

The sun was sinking behind the buildings of downtown New Vienna. The purplish-red sky

reluctantly gave way to deeper darkness. Sergei and his wife were the first ones in the memorial

square. It was so quiet you could hear the birds in the distance. One by one, the lights in the

surrounding office buildings winked off. They were followed by the street lamps. The only light was

from the moon and the stars. Sean walked up and silently stood beside them. He simply had nothing to

say.

The candles slowly floated into the square from the outskirts of the city, carried by thousands of

mourners. There was not one hushed whisper, not one gentle word. The faces lit by the tiny lights

showed regret and bewilderment. No one looked around for a familiar face or a comforting smile.

People silently made room for their compatriots as the square slowly began to fill.

In the center of the square was a bronze statue of a mother kneeling over her fallen child. The

sculptor had no pity or mercy when creating the monument, so every tear and line of anguish on the

woman’s face could be seen. The water in the trench around the statue was eerily still.

An old man was the first. He walked up to the trench, stood there for a moment, and dropped a

small flower into the water. Others gradually followed his example. What they were thinking in that

moment before they dropped their flower in the water would be a mystery no one would ever solve.

Soon the trench was a slightly undulating carpet of flowers of all colors.

Huang dropped his flower into the water and knelt down. The tears still came, even after five

years. Chenguang knelt down beside him. If words were exchanged between the two, they were so

quiet that the people around them never heard what was said.

Everyone just stood there. There were no formalities, no ceremonies, and no speeches. There

were no tolling bells, the names of the victims were not read, and no inspirational songs were sung. It

was just silence, bewilderment, and regret.

Just before the sun rose, the candles were blown out, one by one. The visitors almost felt too

guilty to leave and seemed at a loss for what to do. The crowd dissipated like a morning fog.

Chenguang hugged her brother tight for a long time. Then he returned home. Sean turned to his



12

cousin and was about to say something. In the end, he just gave Sergei a quick hug and walked away.

Cheng made her way back to the car. She looked over her shoulder at her husband – he seemed so

small and alone. She turned away and after several moments, found the car. She got in and the tears

came.

When Sergei was all alone in the square, he walked up to the memorial plaque.

The Massacre of New Brussels April 17 th , 2260 – April 25 th 2260

Let us never forget what happened here. No matter how painful the memories are, we shall

always remember, for the consequences of forgetting are far worse.

The Massacre of New Brussels was something everyone secretly wished they could forget. It

had been a tense few months, with a large influx of Argentinean Nationals pouring in. Argentina had

recently settled an economic war with Korea, but for some the war still played on in their minds. The

Equal Portions Resolution had been forced upon the Protectorate and the citizens of New Brussels

weren’t taking it well. The bitter words between the Argentineans and Koreans manufactured racist

gossip and conspiracy theories all over the district. The fear, misunderstanding, and prejudice went on

and on – and went deeper than anyone would have guessed. All it took was a simple accident to set

things off.

That’s what happened on April 17th, 2260 at 7:56 AM. A Korean National accidentally hit an

Argentinean with his car. Angry words turned into angry blows. Onlookers took sides and joined in the

chaos. Five national groups waged an 8 day war in New Brussels. Twelve hundred lives were lost and

one quarter of the city burned to the ground. Huang’s daughter Celine had been in the center of it.

The U.N. didn’t need a new resolution to deal with this tragedy – the Nationals solved it by

themselves. “All Korean” neighborhoods formed, “Russian only” schools popped up overnight.

Brazilians were transferred to company departments staffed by other Brazilians. Chinese banks would

only lend to Chinese customers. The segregation was absolute, unyielding – and unjust. But it was the

only solution that was out there and it solved nothing. And everyone knew it.

It was only on the anniversary of the massacre that people came together. People from allnational groups gathered together. Doctors, lawyers, laborers, engineers, and people from all walks of

life put their prejudices aside for one day. Rich people and poor people stood side by side. People from

different churches cried the same tears, people from across the political spectrum joined hands in

prayer.

“We the people…” Professor Sanchez’s riddle echoed in his ears.



13

In a moment of profound clarity, Sergei realized that he had gotten it all wrong. “We the

people…” didn’t point to the US Constitution. It was the final piece of the puzzle in the demise of the

United States of America. By the time the last US President was killed, there were no “People”. The

country was filled with “We the Republicans / We the Democrats; “We the Liberals / We the

Conservatives”; “We the Rich / We the Poor / We the Middle Class”; “We the Taxpayers / “We the

Welfare Beneficiaries”. America had simply become a government – “The People” disappeared long

before the nation finally died.

Two days later, Sergei posted the following lines onto the internet:

“Help me finish this: ‘We The People…’”

An hour later, a response came back to him: “living in this great land between the Atlantic and

the Pacific…”

Three hours later, another response came: “as one people bound together by a common desire

for peace, liberty, and justice…”

“I think the founding fathers would be proud.” Sergei told his wife.

“So would Professor Sanchez.”

Bfk



14

A New Declaration

“Connor, hurry! We have to go now!” A soldier called to the young cadet.

“I’ll be back in October – I promise.” His eyes met Scarlett’s.

“I love you.” Scarlett kissed him long and hard.

As Connor took his place in the formation of cadets, Scarlett ran through the crowds as fast as

she could. Without a moment to spare, she dashed up the stairs to the reviewing stand.

“Scarlett, where were you?” Her father, Sergei, always enjoyed teasing her.

“I know where she was.” Chenguang winked at her daughter and remembered the days when

she first met the love of her life.

“Sorry.” Scarlett sheepishly answered.

“I hope you told Connor not to be late for dinner tonight.” Sergei reminded her while

straightening his tie. He then stepped up to the podium and into history.

It was a beautiful sunny day in downtown New Vienna, the heart of the Central District of the

Protectorate. The new flags fluttered proudly in the warm morning air. The main thoroughfare had

been widened just for this occasion. Seven bronze stars, one for every district, had been set into the

street. Red, white, and blue ropes were strung from streetlight to streetlight. Giant plasma screens had

been erected all over the city so the crowd of 500,000 wouldn’t miss one minute of the historic event.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may we present Professor Sergei Andropov, Chairman of the

Transitional Committee of The United Nations North American Protectorate.” Jonathan Strausman,

President of The United Nations, announced. No matter how formal he tried to be, he simply couldn’t

help smiling.

“Thank you Mr. President. I have a Declaration to read to you, and the world, if I may.”

“You may read the Declaration Mr. Andropov.”

“Thank you.



15

W e the people, living in this great land between the Atlantic and Pacific, as one people bound

together by a common desire for peace, liberty, and justice, wish to make our dream known. For 128

years, the people of this land have been living under the protection of the United Nations. During that

time, we have enjoyed numerous rights, privileges, and freedoms. We have also had economic

prosperity and educational opportunities. For that we thank you. However, as you know, the tragediesthat have stained our soil are reflections of unrest that have persisted despite the United Nation’s best

efforts and intentions. Our tense and sometimes violent history has taught us that living in a

Protectorate has only protected us from our right to self determination and our responsibilities as

stewards of this land. The many resolutions passed by the United Nations that have governed our lives

sapped our resolution to think for ourselves and chart our own course through history. While the

United Nations was looking out for us, we weren’t looking out our own windows, and hatred, ignorance,

prejudice, and fear moved in next door to us. We can no longer tolerate such neighbors.

After a long, arduous dialogue that reached into every home in the Protectorate, we the people

have come to an agreement on where we have been, where we want to go, and how we want to getthere. For we now realize that it is far better to die together than to live apart. We realize that it is far

better to fight for each other rather than fight against each other. We realize that our own diligence and

commitment to our country will provide us with all the protection we will ever need.

We want to live in a country where diversity is the foundation of wisdom and passion. We want

to live in a country whose history is the foundation of its hopes and whose hopes reflect a prudent and

noble history. We can only achieve this dream as one united people.

Mr. President, we the people ask that the United Nations withdraw its administrators,

resolutions, and troops so that we may form the United Districts of America.”

The armored vehicles of The United Nations slowly rumbled down the street. They gradually

came to a halt in front of the reviewing stand.

“Professor Andropov, the United Nations has heard your Declaration. We believe that it is in the

best interest of the people living in this land that they be allowed to form the United Districts of

America. Today, the United Nations grants this land to the people of the United Districts of America.”

The ceremonies should have proceeded as normal, but this was far from a normal day. The

applause and cheers lasted for ten minutes. It shook the podium and even the plasma screens. Sergei

wiped away a tear of joy. He then kissed Chenguang. The new governors and councilors of the UDA

then walked up to the armored vehicles with flowers for the UN soldiers. After many hugs and

handshakes, the armored column slowly snaked its way out of the city.

A hush then fell over the streets. The silence lasted for several moments, each spectator

holding his or her breath. In the distance, a fife and drum corps could be heard advancing down the

street. It grew louder and soon the 23rd

Century Minutemen, led by Huang Zhe, marched into view. He



16

held the original American flag high, not wanting anyone to forget who made the first sacrifice. The

crowd was silent as the Minutemen passed by, everyone mesmerized by the spell they cast.

They were followed by the armed forces of the U.D.A., dressed in their finest. Their armored

vehicles and tanks were polished to perfection. They stared straight ahead, eager to meet a better

tomorrow.

Next came the first President of the United Districts of America, Eun Kyung Kim. She waved

from her 2247 red Baltimore Stinger.

She leaned over to her husband. “And to think, we did it without bullets or bloodshed.”

“You have to admit, America is a grand idea.” He replied.

“Yes, yes it is.”

Bfk

Documents

Star Spangled Phoenix