She just reappeared at my door, still dressed in her guerilla apparel, still with the gun slung over her shoulder. There’s a steeliness about Buffalo Springsteen, a rock-solid something that stabilizes her even in her softness moments, so I should have known the change would not come with great heaving sobs. She just came home.
“I’m done,” she said, looking in my eyes after we finished the long, warm hug of greeting. “Done killing.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” A pause. “I just got to thinking.”
No, there were no close encounters with enemy combatants; a sniper’s nest, it seems, is a quiet and even lonely place – a place well suited for thinking.
We were right, her hunting skills served her well picking off the enemy from a distance. She was able to cut rather deeply into the ranks of the peacekeepers. But in between kills, she had plenty of time to think.
“I started to think about the lives I’d snuffed,” Buffalo said, keeping a steady gaze on my eyes, perhaps to make sure I was still with her. “I started to imagine them living normal lives. The family back home, the friends waiting for a reunion that’s not going to happen now, the big plans they had for their lives, maybe they were married, maybe they had kids who called them in their bunk every night. I thought about how you’d feel if they got me; I thought about how I felt when I heard about the guy with the gun, the guy Johnny tackled for you, the guy who wanted to take you out.
“And I started thinking you were right, that killing them wasn’t going to end it. So I quit.”
“You walked away from the sniper’s nest?”
Now she laughed. “Not that simple, but I let them know I was done, and soon as they could spare me I left. Didn’t need to kill anyone the last few days anyway.”
I held her close. I thought about saying she had taken a big step to stop the cycle of violence, but the moment didn’t call for theories and philosophical statements. At least I didn’t think so, until she took me by both arms.
“You’re right, Ray,” she said. “That’s how you beat them – not by killing as many as you can – just stop living their vision and start living yours. And our vision is about leaving each other alone to live out our natural lives.”
No, no heaving sobs, but a single tear did find its way down her cheek.
Entry 67
Friday, September 28, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Entry 65. Homecoming
Entry 65. Homecoming
I guess I should have known that Buffalo and I would eventually be together again and that she would accept the path of non-violence. Well, if I must be precise, she accepted that killing is not the path to peace. I never have convinced her on the matter of what she calls a pre-emptive first strike when violence seems inevitable.
John Hemlock was right; we are too much alike not to come to similar conclusions about core values. Our coming together again, however, was not quite as I envisioned.
I expected drama. I even imagined how she would come to the conclusion that war is no solution. She would be caught in some kind of combat that ended with only two survivors, herself and a gravely wounded Earthian soldier. With the heat of battle raging around them, Buffalo would get to know her combatant more personally; perhaps they would save each other’s lives somehow and forge a tentative friendship. It’s easy to kill “an Earthian,” not as easy to kill a friend.
When the other person died, Buffalo would come to understand the toll of war, the stupidity of war, the uselessness of war. Tears would be shed in great quantities as the enormity of what she had done weighed on her conscience.
There was no drama and few tears. One day Buffalo simply ended her combat career and came back. The circumstances were dramatic in a different way than I’d imagined.
Entry 66
I guess I should have known that Buffalo and I would eventually be together again and that she would accept the path of non-violence. Well, if I must be precise, she accepted that killing is not the path to peace. I never have convinced her on the matter of what she calls a pre-emptive first strike when violence seems inevitable.
John Hemlock was right; we are too much alike not to come to similar conclusions about core values. Our coming together again, however, was not quite as I envisioned.
I expected drama. I even imagined how she would come to the conclusion that war is no solution. She would be caught in some kind of combat that ended with only two survivors, herself and a gravely wounded Earthian soldier. With the heat of battle raging around them, Buffalo would get to know her combatant more personally; perhaps they would save each other’s lives somehow and forge a tentative friendship. It’s easy to kill “an Earthian,” not as easy to kill a friend.
When the other person died, Buffalo would come to understand the toll of war, the stupidity of war, the uselessness of war. Tears would be shed in great quantities as the enormity of what she had done weighed on her conscience.
There was no drama and few tears. One day Buffalo simply ended her combat career and came back. The circumstances were dramatic in a different way than I’d imagined.
Entry 66
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Entry 64. You can't kill an idea
Long before I found myself face to face with the barrels of guns, I knew that advocating nonaggression would attract aggression. I also knew that if I didn’t survive to see a society based on love, the idea would not die with me.
My five resisters, the men whose words and actions form the basis of my Tenets of Common Wealth, did not die quietly for the most part.
But their ideas live on, centuries later. You can’t kill an idea. And few ideas are so powerful than the notion that when we love one another, when we treat others as we wish to be treated, when we give more than we receive, we all prosper.
Violence on violence merely extends the cycle.
Violence cannot create a nonviolent world.
Non-peace cannot create peace.
Hate cannot create love.
Hate cannot create love? Oh, no.
I had reacted to True’s attempt to recruit me with anger. In that moment I hated him and all he stood for.
There was another way. It was the way I had been, for lack of a better word, preaching all along.
I had not convinced enough Sirians to turn my philosophical musings into practical action. If Earth was to be beaten back, it would be with violence. I didn’t endorse this; I simply accepted it.
But I knew with sad assurance that another opportunity would come. The cycle would be extended, and another revolution would be required to achieve freedom.
Entry 65
My five resisters, the men whose words and actions form the basis of my Tenets of Common Wealth, did not die quietly for the most part.
But their ideas live on, centuries later. You can’t kill an idea. And few ideas are so powerful than the notion that when we love one another, when we treat others as we wish to be treated, when we give more than we receive, we all prosper.
Violence on violence merely extends the cycle.
Violence cannot create a nonviolent world.
Non-peace cannot create peace.
Hate cannot create love.
Hate cannot create love? Oh, no.
I had reacted to True’s attempt to recruit me with anger. In that moment I hated him and all he stood for.
There was another way. It was the way I had been, for lack of a better word, preaching all along.
I had not convinced enough Sirians to turn my philosophical musings into practical action. If Earth was to be beaten back, it would be with violence. I didn’t endorse this; I simply accepted it.
But I knew with sad assurance that another opportunity would come. The cycle would be extended, and another revolution would be required to achieve freedom.
Entry 65
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Entry 63. Attempt at appeasement
The war was not going well for either side. Remains were shipped back to Earth on a regular basis, and remains were processed routinely on Sirius 4 as well. Guns and grenades and lasers ended lives and damaged property, but they did little to convince anyone to change their minds about the wisdom of Sirian independence.
Even the bizarre violence of the imaginary grenade failed to extinguish the fire in our hearts. The things would simply cause their targets to collapse without an explosion, quietly and without fanfare.
Seeing them work was a chilling experience, but they did not end the revolution. Our engineers simply went to work figuring out how to replicate the program so we could have imaginary force of our own.
I was alone in my office when Lt. Joshua True sent his message. The fact that it came from True himself piqued my interest enough to enable video.
“Professor Kaliber, it’s an honor to speak with you,” the precise voice said in a military-precise tone. I was sorely tempted to reply, “I wish I could say the same,” but I didn’t want this encounter to descend into tawdry melodrama.
“The only honor you could do me is to leave this planet,” I said. I’d like to say I was angry and defiant, but the truth is I was more than a little nervous and that was the only response I could think to give.
“Heh. Well. It turns out that is the reason I’m calling,” he said, passing a hand over his short gray skullcap hair, as if the precisely cut bristles needed to be brushed into place. “I wanted to express my appreciation for the public statements you have been making, the call to nonviolence.”
This was rich.
“Do you mean the statements where I say you represent a tyrannical regime that deserves to be ignored, not obeyed?”
The precision smile tightened into a precise thin line, but still a smile.
“Heh. Well, I might have a quarrel with your terminology, but we all want a peaceful solution to this.”
“Do we.”
“Of course. No one seems to understand better than you what a waste of lives it is to resist authority this way,” True said. “I thought perhaps together we could convince our brothers and sisters to lay down their arms and reason together.”
“You mean surrender.”
“I mean resume the negotiations.”
“There are no negotiations to resume,” I replied. “You left. We are free.”
“Not so much, I would think,” True said. “We are here now. You need our authority to prevent chaos.”
“Let me make something clear, lieutenant, because you’re not in possession of your senses. Your authority is causing the chaos. There was no chaos here before your thugs landed their ships.”
“If you say so. You’re not seeing it from Earth’s perspective.”
“Earth’s perspective is that Sirius 4 belongs to Earth. One person does not own another. One planet of individuals does not possess another planet of individuals.”
“But individuals must work together.”
“Yes, sometimes they must to achieve common goals. Restoring Earth’s insane hold on the people of Sirius 4 is not a common goal. You’re laboring under a misunderstanding, True.”
“You advocate a nonviolent solution.”
“I advocate active noncooperation with your thuggery,” I shouted. It irritated me that I’d allowed my calm to break first. “Just because I don’t believe you deserve to die doesn’t mean I don’t believe you deserve to leave.” I paused to settle my emotions. “You’ll get no help from me, lieutenant. We won’t be interacting again until you’re off my planet.”
“Perhaps you’ll feel different about this inside a prison cell,” True said evenly.
I chuckled. “A wiser man than I once wrote, ‘the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not armed with superior wit or honesty, but with superior strength.
“‘I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest,’” I said, pleased that a lifetime of studying Henry David Thoreau gave me the words to confront the precise thug.
Now it was Lt. True’s turn to let a long pause hang in the air. He did not give me the satisfaction of responding to my anger with an outburst of his own, but I did detect a twitch or two around the edges of his iron expression.
“Heh. Well. Thank you for your time, professor.” The screen went dark.
Entry 64
Even the bizarre violence of the imaginary grenade failed to extinguish the fire in our hearts. The things would simply cause their targets to collapse without an explosion, quietly and without fanfare.
Seeing them work was a chilling experience, but they did not end the revolution. Our engineers simply went to work figuring out how to replicate the program so we could have imaginary force of our own.
I was alone in my office when Lt. Joshua True sent his message. The fact that it came from True himself piqued my interest enough to enable video.
“Professor Kaliber, it’s an honor to speak with you,” the precise voice said in a military-precise tone. I was sorely tempted to reply, “I wish I could say the same,” but I didn’t want this encounter to descend into tawdry melodrama.
“The only honor you could do me is to leave this planet,” I said. I’d like to say I was angry and defiant, but the truth is I was more than a little nervous and that was the only response I could think to give.
“Heh. Well. It turns out that is the reason I’m calling,” he said, passing a hand over his short gray skullcap hair, as if the precisely cut bristles needed to be brushed into place. “I wanted to express my appreciation for the public statements you have been making, the call to nonviolence.”
This was rich.
“Do you mean the statements where I say you represent a tyrannical regime that deserves to be ignored, not obeyed?”
The precision smile tightened into a precise thin line, but still a smile.
“Heh. Well, I might have a quarrel with your terminology, but we all want a peaceful solution to this.”
“Do we.”
“Of course. No one seems to understand better than you what a waste of lives it is to resist authority this way,” True said. “I thought perhaps together we could convince our brothers and sisters to lay down their arms and reason together.”
“You mean surrender.”
“I mean resume the negotiations.”
“There are no negotiations to resume,” I replied. “You left. We are free.”
“Not so much, I would think,” True said. “We are here now. You need our authority to prevent chaos.”
“Let me make something clear, lieutenant, because you’re not in possession of your senses. Your authority is causing the chaos. There was no chaos here before your thugs landed their ships.”
“If you say so. You’re not seeing it from Earth’s perspective.”
“Earth’s perspective is that Sirius 4 belongs to Earth. One person does not own another. One planet of individuals does not possess another planet of individuals.”
“But individuals must work together.”
“Yes, sometimes they must to achieve common goals. Restoring Earth’s insane hold on the people of Sirius 4 is not a common goal. You’re laboring under a misunderstanding, True.”
“You advocate a nonviolent solution.”
“I advocate active noncooperation with your thuggery,” I shouted. It irritated me that I’d allowed my calm to break first. “Just because I don’t believe you deserve to die doesn’t mean I don’t believe you deserve to leave.” I paused to settle my emotions. “You’ll get no help from me, lieutenant. We won’t be interacting again until you’re off my planet.”
“Perhaps you’ll feel different about this inside a prison cell,” True said evenly.
I chuckled. “A wiser man than I once wrote, ‘the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not armed with superior wit or honesty, but with superior strength.
“‘I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest,’” I said, pleased that a lifetime of studying Henry David Thoreau gave me the words to confront the precise thug.
Now it was Lt. True’s turn to let a long pause hang in the air. He did not give me the satisfaction of responding to my anger with an outburst of his own, but I did detect a twitch or two around the edges of his iron expression.
“Heh. Well. Thank you for your time, professor.” The screen went dark.
Entry 64
Monday, September 17, 2012
Entry 62. Messengers of nonviolence
“Guy comes to me, his liver’s shot, his wife left him, he’s broke, I think his dog might have died, too,” John Hemlock said to general laughter. “He says, ‘Why would God do this to me?’ The thing is, I said, God didn’t do anything to you, son, he’s only honoring the choices you made over the years. Your life is the product of the choices you make, moment by moment. You can hang on tight, or you can relax and turn the controls over to Jesus.”
Now, everyone knew where Johnny would be coming from, so those who chose to think about the religious themes took them seriously, and those who were not so sure took what he had to say that they could apply to their lives and left the rest to simmer. That’s what I mean when I say maybe Sirians are a special breed where this could work – most of us learned early to live and let live. We have no special need to convert other people to our way of thinking, as long as they don’t try to convert us to theirs. And in that way, John Hemlock is the perfect preacher for our planet. He does his share of converting but he doesn’t fuss for the lost souls who choose to stay lost – or those who get themselves found by other means.
My half of the talking didn’t touch on the supernatural, although once I added John’s “Love your neighbor as yourself” verbiage I guess it did have that undercurrent. I was not trying to win souls as much as minds when I said it: It simply makes sense looking at human nature that the way you treat others is reflected in the way they treat you.
“When you overthrow a violent regime violently, you only replace one violence with another,” I’d say. “If you want fundamental change, you must make fundamental changes in the way you approach the problem. A government or a society that solves its problems by killing or maiming its adversaries is not going to change minds – and changing minds is the only way to achieve the real goal: ending tyranny.”
The audiences had been growing, but they dropped off again after armed soldiers began to patrol the streets. One thing that can be said about violence is that it’s quicker, although not at all effective in the long run as we learned. Ramsey Sardonicus proved in Colorado that you can take a regime down in a hurry by ignoring it, but the people of Sirius 4 wanted to try taking the tyrants on their own terms first. The only time I resented that approach was when Lt. Joshua True tried turning my resistance to violence on its head.
Entry 63
Now, everyone knew where Johnny would be coming from, so those who chose to think about the religious themes took them seriously, and those who were not so sure took what he had to say that they could apply to their lives and left the rest to simmer. That’s what I mean when I say maybe Sirians are a special breed where this could work – most of us learned early to live and let live. We have no special need to convert other people to our way of thinking, as long as they don’t try to convert us to theirs. And in that way, John Hemlock is the perfect preacher for our planet. He does his share of converting but he doesn’t fuss for the lost souls who choose to stay lost – or those who get themselves found by other means.
My half of the talking didn’t touch on the supernatural, although once I added John’s “Love your neighbor as yourself” verbiage I guess it did have that undercurrent. I was not trying to win souls as much as minds when I said it: It simply makes sense looking at human nature that the way you treat others is reflected in the way they treat you.
“When you overthrow a violent regime violently, you only replace one violence with another,” I’d say. “If you want fundamental change, you must make fundamental changes in the way you approach the problem. A government or a society that solves its problems by killing or maiming its adversaries is not going to change minds – and changing minds is the only way to achieve the real goal: ending tyranny.”
The audiences had been growing, but they dropped off again after armed soldiers began to patrol the streets. One thing that can be said about violence is that it’s quicker, although not at all effective in the long run as we learned. Ramsey Sardonicus proved in Colorado that you can take a regime down in a hurry by ignoring it, but the people of Sirius 4 wanted to try taking the tyrants on their own terms first. The only time I resented that approach was when Lt. Joshua True tried turning my resistance to violence on its head.
Entry 63
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Entry 61. Hot coals of forgiveness
John Hemlock, more perhaps than any other living soul, understood that removing violence as an option didn’t mean surrendering.
“I get that you’re angry, I get that you want to lash out,” Johnny would tell our audiences. “But you got to get past that, you have to forgive your enemies – that’s the one path to true peace. I don’t mean what they used to call a kumbya peace, a false peace, I mean when you don’t stay up at night with a tummy ache because you hate your enemies so much.”
“What if they’ve killed your brother?” the skeptical would ask, and before the question could even echo off the wall, John would bark back: “Every man is your brother. It’s a family dispute.”
But then that huge face would soften into a whimsical smile. “If you’re having trouble with the forgiveness part, think of this: If you return hate and violence with love and generosity, it’ll drive them nuts. It’ll make them crazy if they think they can’t make you angry. It’ll be as good as dumping hot coals on their head, their brains will explode.” That would usually get people laughing a little, and then he’d add: “The really sweet part is that if you do that often enough and long enough, there really will come a day when they can’t make you angry. It’ll be second nature for you to give love and generosity to everyone, even the people who think they’re your enemies. You’re not treating them with love because it drives them crazy, you’re treating them with love because you love them. At first forgiveness doesn’t change anything except what’s inside you – but if you can stick it out and forgive and forgive and respond with love every time, eventually no one will even want to be your enemy in the first place.”
We made a good one-two punch, John and I, if I may make an analogy that involves a fighting image. He would come on and talk about loving your neighbors in a practical but theoretical sense, and I would extend the theory to the realities of the present day. I knew if we could convince people that nonviolence is the core of a stable but dynamic way of life, we could change the world.
That was why Buffalo’s choice to wage the war in the old-fashioned way – killing Earthians – shook me to the core: Because nonviolence is my core. If I couldn’t convince the woman closest to me that my tenets of common wealth would lead us to a better place, literally a common wealth, how would I convince anyone? I knew the question was silly, I knew my ideas were catching on with people, but I wanted more than anything for her to embrace the concept.
“You’re the one who says we’re each and every one of us unique, and that means we’re not going to see everything the same,” John reminded me. “She’ll come around in her own way, her own time. You guys are soulmates. Half of a soul can’t go one way and the other half completely the other forever.”
“I’m talking about realizing that even Earthians are our neighbors, and she’s off to kill them. That’s pretty much opposite directions,” I said.
“She’ll come around,” he repeated. “You both have this passion for freedom. You’re both absolutely real and unique – like everyone else is, that’s what you say, right? The passion’s taking you different ways now, but you’re going to end up on the same page, I know that. You need to be together, there’s like an aura that surrounds the two of you when you’re together.”
“An aura.”
“Don’t you give me that look, Raymond, I’m telling you I see an aura. It lights you both up. You’re what you call ‘made for each other.’”
“That won’t help much if she gets herself killed,” I said ruefully.
“Hey, seems to me you’re both committed to dying for this cause if that’s what it takes,” John Hemlock said with a big smile. “Buffalo will take care of herself, and I’m here to take care of you.”
Entry 62
“I get that you’re angry, I get that you want to lash out,” Johnny would tell our audiences. “But you got to get past that, you have to forgive your enemies – that’s the one path to true peace. I don’t mean what they used to call a kumbya peace, a false peace, I mean when you don’t stay up at night with a tummy ache because you hate your enemies so much.”
“What if they’ve killed your brother?” the skeptical would ask, and before the question could even echo off the wall, John would bark back: “Every man is your brother. It’s a family dispute.”
But then that huge face would soften into a whimsical smile. “If you’re having trouble with the forgiveness part, think of this: If you return hate and violence with love and generosity, it’ll drive them nuts. It’ll make them crazy if they think they can’t make you angry. It’ll be as good as dumping hot coals on their head, their brains will explode.” That would usually get people laughing a little, and then he’d add: “The really sweet part is that if you do that often enough and long enough, there really will come a day when they can’t make you angry. It’ll be second nature for you to give love and generosity to everyone, even the people who think they’re your enemies. You’re not treating them with love because it drives them crazy, you’re treating them with love because you love them. At first forgiveness doesn’t change anything except what’s inside you – but if you can stick it out and forgive and forgive and respond with love every time, eventually no one will even want to be your enemy in the first place.”
We made a good one-two punch, John and I, if I may make an analogy that involves a fighting image. He would come on and talk about loving your neighbors in a practical but theoretical sense, and I would extend the theory to the realities of the present day. I knew if we could convince people that nonviolence is the core of a stable but dynamic way of life, we could change the world.
That was why Buffalo’s choice to wage the war in the old-fashioned way – killing Earthians – shook me to the core: Because nonviolence is my core. If I couldn’t convince the woman closest to me that my tenets of common wealth would lead us to a better place, literally a common wealth, how would I convince anyone? I knew the question was silly, I knew my ideas were catching on with people, but I wanted more than anything for her to embrace the concept.
“You’re the one who says we’re each and every one of us unique, and that means we’re not going to see everything the same,” John reminded me. “She’ll come around in her own way, her own time. You guys are soulmates. Half of a soul can’t go one way and the other half completely the other forever.”
“I’m talking about realizing that even Earthians are our neighbors, and she’s off to kill them. That’s pretty much opposite directions,” I said.
“She’ll come around,” he repeated. “You both have this passion for freedom. You’re both absolutely real and unique – like everyone else is, that’s what you say, right? The passion’s taking you different ways now, but you’re going to end up on the same page, I know that. You need to be together, there’s like an aura that surrounds the two of you when you’re together.”
“An aura.”
“Don’t you give me that look, Raymond, I’m telling you I see an aura. It lights you both up. You’re what you call ‘made for each other.’”
“That won’t help much if she gets herself killed,” I said ruefully.
“Hey, seems to me you’re both committed to dying for this cause if that’s what it takes,” John Hemlock said with a big smile. “Buffalo will take care of herself, and I’m here to take care of you.”
Entry 62
Friday, September 7, 2012
Entry 60. Off to the war
“My father is descended from a famous singer around 400 years ago, near the middle of Earth’s 20th century,” Buffalo smiled at me over a glass of Beaujolais Ptolémée.
“I’ve heard of him,” I said. “Didn’t he write that old folk song, ‘If I Should Fall Behind’?”
“It’s possible. I probably should know more about him than I do, family ties and all, but I really don’t, it was so long ago,” she admitted. “And then my mother can trace her family back to another singer from around the same time, who once belonged to an ensemble called Buffalo Springfield.”
“What was his name?”
“You’d think I would remember. I’d have to ask Mom.”
“So your name is a 400-year-old musical pun,” I said, and she giggled shyly, which was completely out of character but made her adorable. “With a pedigree like that, I can see why you don’t want to shorten it.”
And that sort of chilled the moment. “No. I don’t want to shorten it.” As in, we’re not going to discuss that nickname any further.
“Have you ever heard any of the music your ancestors recorded?” I steered the conversation back on track.
“A little, not much,” she said. “It’s pretty dated, it’s quaint, but you know, it’s ancient music. And Earthian – hard to relate to.”
We finished the wine over laughter and more discussion of Earth music from centuries ago. And now, a few weeks later, she was standing at the door to my home with a rifle slung over her shoulder.
“I can leave it outside if you want,” she said awkwardly, indicating the gun.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” I said, ushering her in with a kiss on the cheek. “Just because I don’t use them on people personally doesn’t mean I object to their presence.”
She had been taking some training as a sniper, and it turned out she was a natural, a simple evolution from her hunting skills. She was anticipating that she would soon be sent out on the field to dispatch Earthians.
“I know you don’t approve,” she said slowly. “But I have to do this.”
I nodded. “You have to do what you think is the right thing, Buffalo. It’s not what I would do, but this is your choice, your life.”
“We’re still, well, we’re still what we are, aren’t we?”
My Lord, the confusion in my soul over this. Everything in my being screamed that we were designed to be two halves of a whole, but how could I make a life with someone who rejected my most deeply held core belief? It felt like a choice between tearing out my heart or cutting off my head.
After a few moments of trying to form something to say, I finally managed, “Let’s get this revolution out of the way, and then we’ll see where we stand.”
That was where we agreed to leave it. A few minutes later she went off to kill Earthians, and I retreated to the darkest loneliness I’ve ever known.
Entry 61
“I’ve heard of him,” I said. “Didn’t he write that old folk song, ‘If I Should Fall Behind’?”
“It’s possible. I probably should know more about him than I do, family ties and all, but I really don’t, it was so long ago,” she admitted. “And then my mother can trace her family back to another singer from around the same time, who once belonged to an ensemble called Buffalo Springfield.”
“What was his name?”
“You’d think I would remember. I’d have to ask Mom.”
“So your name is a 400-year-old musical pun,” I said, and she giggled shyly, which was completely out of character but made her adorable. “With a pedigree like that, I can see why you don’t want to shorten it.”
And that sort of chilled the moment. “No. I don’t want to shorten it.” As in, we’re not going to discuss that nickname any further.
“Have you ever heard any of the music your ancestors recorded?” I steered the conversation back on track.
“A little, not much,” she said. “It’s pretty dated, it’s quaint, but you know, it’s ancient music. And Earthian – hard to relate to.”
We finished the wine over laughter and more discussion of Earth music from centuries ago. And now, a few weeks later, she was standing at the door to my home with a rifle slung over her shoulder.
“I can leave it outside if you want,” she said awkwardly, indicating the gun.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” I said, ushering her in with a kiss on the cheek. “Just because I don’t use them on people personally doesn’t mean I object to their presence.”
She had been taking some training as a sniper, and it turned out she was a natural, a simple evolution from her hunting skills. She was anticipating that she would soon be sent out on the field to dispatch Earthians.
“I know you don’t approve,” she said slowly. “But I have to do this.”
I nodded. “You have to do what you think is the right thing, Buffalo. It’s not what I would do, but this is your choice, your life.”
“We’re still, well, we’re still what we are, aren’t we?”
My Lord, the confusion in my soul over this. Everything in my being screamed that we were designed to be two halves of a whole, but how could I make a life with someone who rejected my most deeply held core belief? It felt like a choice between tearing out my heart or cutting off my head.
After a few moments of trying to form something to say, I finally managed, “Let’s get this revolution out of the way, and then we’ll see where we stand.”
That was where we agreed to leave it. A few minutes later she went off to kill Earthians, and I retreated to the darkest loneliness I’ve ever known.
Entry 61
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Entry 59. Twelve dreams finished
Numbers dehumanize. It is one thing to talk about a dozen Earthian soldiers ambushed and killed; it is quite another to tell each man and woman’s individual story. For that is who died that day – not 12 soldiers but 12 ongoing dreams.
You want numbers? Those 12 people had spent a total of 281 years getting to that day. From the challenge of learning to walk to the joy and heartbreak of their first love, they each had accumulated at least two decades of life experience, working their way toward adulthood painstakingly. Some were married, three had known the joy of making new life but would not know the challenge of raising their children and watching them succeed and stumble.
All of them had ideas about where they wanted their lives to go; some had precise goals, some had a vague vision. Like most people, they wanted to make a difference, and they did make a difference – that was clear to all of the hundreds of people who were affected by their sudden and early deaths.
But they did not make the difference that Lt. Joshua True and his superiors intended. They did not convince the people of Sirius 4 to accept the rule of Earth. Nor did their deaths do anything to convince True that Sirius 4 should remain independent. That was the central disagreement, wasn’t it? Instead the taking of lives made True that much more intransigent, more eager to punish the people of Sirius 4 for daring to breathe free.
None of us has 281 years to live the life we desire. Divide that number by 12, and it’s not near enough time.
Entry 60
You want numbers? Those 12 people had spent a total of 281 years getting to that day. From the challenge of learning to walk to the joy and heartbreak of their first love, they each had accumulated at least two decades of life experience, working their way toward adulthood painstakingly. Some were married, three had known the joy of making new life but would not know the challenge of raising their children and watching them succeed and stumble.
All of them had ideas about where they wanted their lives to go; some had precise goals, some had a vague vision. Like most people, they wanted to make a difference, and they did make a difference – that was clear to all of the hundreds of people who were affected by their sudden and early deaths.
But they did not make the difference that Lt. Joshua True and his superiors intended. They did not convince the people of Sirius 4 to accept the rule of Earth. Nor did their deaths do anything to convince True that Sirius 4 should remain independent. That was the central disagreement, wasn’t it? Instead the taking of lives made True that much more intransigent, more eager to punish the people of Sirius 4 for daring to breathe free.
None of us has 281 years to live the life we desire. Divide that number by 12, and it’s not near enough time.
Entry 60
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Entry 58. Sides are chosen
And so it was war. True was not going to sit by and let the natives blow up his troops. Curfews were set and a force was sent after the people considered most likely to have set the bomb. But the force was met by a greater one, and Lt. True lost more personnel – and so did the natives.
The eye-for-an-eye escalated. and it was not long before we had a full-fledged series of battles on our hands, with men, women and children dying and property being destroyed.
By the time my class met for the next time, the idea of noncooperation was well on its way to dying of neglect. Somewhat painful was the identity of the student who led the argument against me.
“What option do we have?” Buffalo Springsteen said, her eyes flashing but her voice betraying an almost apologetic tone. “When the tyrant invades your home, you have to repel him, and people will be hurt.”
“People will die,” another student said – I should have noticed who, but I didn’t.
“Yep, people will die, maybe some of us, maybe even me,” she said. “But that’s the price of freedom. That’s been the price of freedom through the ages.”
I value the right of disagreement, and so I love it when students listen to me carefully and form their own opinions anyway. But the applause that greeted Buffalo stung a little.
“Dying for a cause is a noble thing,” I said. “And defending yourself against a violent attack often requires a return of force. But going so far as to take lives is a very serious proposition.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” cried Carson McGillicudy. “They started this thing.”
“And with every death their will to finish it becomes more secure,” I said. “You may convince them to leave eventually, but they die and they fly away more convinced than ever that Sirius 4 should be an Earthian possession. And we have maintained the precedent that killing for a noble cause is acceptable. When does the cycle of violence stop?”
“‘When it’s kill or be killed, there must be a third alternative,’” Buffalo quoted me. “You said the alternative would present itself when the time comes. Well, time’s up, they’re killing people, they’re coming for us – what’s the third way?”
“I’ve told you – noncooperation. They can’t force a whole planet of individuals to recognize their authority if we choose not to.”
“What, just ignore them?” Carson said. “What do you do when a soldier sticks the barrel of a gun in your face and tells you to obey?”
“You refuse. You push the barrel aside and tell him no. You defend yourself if you must, but you stop short of killing him,” I said. “If he dies, he dies believing you were wrong, and his survivors will believe the same even more, and they’ll be back to punish you, and then your survivors will punish them and on and on. The only way to stop the cycle is to make your case without killing.”
“You have a great theory and maybe someday humanity will be ready for it, but this is not that day,” Buffalo Springsteen said, and her eyes had softened. “There’s a time for theories, and there’s a time for taking up arms. I’m taking up arms.”
I presume there was another burst of applause and more conversation before the class broke up, but my memory of that day ends there for the most part. When the flames of war are rising, the Great Cause is seen as more important than the concerns of a young couple, but that rarely softens the pain of separation. And in this case, I didn’t see how she and I could ever be the same.
Entry 59
The eye-for-an-eye escalated. and it was not long before we had a full-fledged series of battles on our hands, with men, women and children dying and property being destroyed.
By the time my class met for the next time, the idea of noncooperation was well on its way to dying of neglect. Somewhat painful was the identity of the student who led the argument against me.
“What option do we have?” Buffalo Springsteen said, her eyes flashing but her voice betraying an almost apologetic tone. “When the tyrant invades your home, you have to repel him, and people will be hurt.”
“People will die,” another student said – I should have noticed who, but I didn’t.
“Yep, people will die, maybe some of us, maybe even me,” she said. “But that’s the price of freedom. That’s been the price of freedom through the ages.”
I value the right of disagreement, and so I love it when students listen to me carefully and form their own opinions anyway. But the applause that greeted Buffalo stung a little.
“Dying for a cause is a noble thing,” I said. “And defending yourself against a violent attack often requires a return of force. But going so far as to take lives is a very serious proposition.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” cried Carson McGillicudy. “They started this thing.”
“And with every death their will to finish it becomes more secure,” I said. “You may convince them to leave eventually, but they die and they fly away more convinced than ever that Sirius 4 should be an Earthian possession. And we have maintained the precedent that killing for a noble cause is acceptable. When does the cycle of violence stop?”
“‘When it’s kill or be killed, there must be a third alternative,’” Buffalo quoted me. “You said the alternative would present itself when the time comes. Well, time’s up, they’re killing people, they’re coming for us – what’s the third way?”
“I’ve told you – noncooperation. They can’t force a whole planet of individuals to recognize their authority if we choose not to.”
“What, just ignore them?” Carson said. “What do you do when a soldier sticks the barrel of a gun in your face and tells you to obey?”
“You refuse. You push the barrel aside and tell him no. You defend yourself if you must, but you stop short of killing him,” I said. “If he dies, he dies believing you were wrong, and his survivors will believe the same even more, and they’ll be back to punish you, and then your survivors will punish them and on and on. The only way to stop the cycle is to make your case without killing.”
“You have a great theory and maybe someday humanity will be ready for it, but this is not that day,” Buffalo Springsteen said, and her eyes had softened. “There’s a time for theories, and there’s a time for taking up arms. I’m taking up arms.”
I presume there was another burst of applause and more conversation before the class broke up, but my memory of that day ends there for the most part. When the flames of war are rising, the Great Cause is seen as more important than the concerns of a young couple, but that rarely softens the pain of separation. And in this case, I didn’t see how she and I could ever be the same.
Entry 59
Monday, September 3, 2012
Entry 57. Roots of modern Sirius, part two
Such people as settled Sirius 4 did not need someone from Earth telling them how to live their lives; in fact they came to resent that the Earthian lawmakers’ belief that they had any insight into how to conduct business or pleasure on a different planet in a different solar system.
Oh, it’s true that some came expecting to follow a leader or perhaps even to be a leader, the latter believing themselves to be somewhat wiser than the rest of us. But dropping yourself and perhaps your family into a remote corner of the galaxy takes some amount of self-confidence, no matter how fast the trip is. It quickly became apparent that galactic pioneers had no need – indeed, no practical use – for the help or machinations of a distant government.
Freedom being something internal that we are born understanding, the farther anyone got from the notion that we need a government to assure our freedom, the more absurd the idea seemed to be.
A world filled with sovereign individuals could get along just fine without organizing a sovereign collective, as we learned just as soon as we agreed to set the government out of our way.
Still, as humans seem wont to do, many tried the bloody path that had been tried so often before stumbling onto the alternative.
Entry 58
Oh, it’s true that some came expecting to follow a leader or perhaps even to be a leader, the latter believing themselves to be somewhat wiser than the rest of us. But dropping yourself and perhaps your family into a remote corner of the galaxy takes some amount of self-confidence, no matter how fast the trip is. It quickly became apparent that galactic pioneers had no need – indeed, no practical use – for the help or machinations of a distant government.
Freedom being something internal that we are born understanding, the farther anyone got from the notion that we need a government to assure our freedom, the more absurd the idea seemed to be.
A world filled with sovereign individuals could get along just fine without organizing a sovereign collective, as we learned just as soon as we agreed to set the government out of our way.
Still, as humans seem wont to do, many tried the bloody path that had been tried so often before stumbling onto the alternative.
Entry 58
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