Free Earthbound by Joe Haldeman Page B

twenty-second-century neo-Baroque.
    The room was dominated by a heavy ornate round table of some gorgeous rare wood. There were about twenty overstuffed swivel chairs with twenty different colors of paisley upholstery. The latest thing, I supposed.
    There were five of us “space travelers” and our two hangers-on, facing seven people who were presumably politicians.
    An impressive back-lit Mercator projection of the world filled one wall. Namir gestured at it as we sat down. “Please bring us up to date . . . next week, that whole map is going to be of only academic interest. What are we doing to make people adjust to thinking and acting on a small scale? Local government and industry?”
    “Right now we’re still dealing with panic. Rioting and wholesale looting.” That was Dali Spendor, who had been President Gold’s press secretary. “That requires local response, but it’s military and police work.”
    “National Guard?” Paul said. Some of the others looked bewildered.
    “There’s no such thing anymore,” General Ballard said. “It seemed obsolete, and was absorbed by the regular military before I was ever a soldier.”
    “Regionalism in general has been on the wane.” A white-bearded man who introduced himself as Julian Remnick, president of Harvard University. “That’s been true for centuries. But facing a common enemy as terrifying as the Others, who represent the same danger to everyone from Nome to Key West, from London to Beijing, has unified the world more effectively than millennia of idealism.” He was obviously quoting himself. “That has its bad side now.”
    “People will naturally expect a top-down response,” Spendor said. “Here, that would be Washington stepping in to deal with the problem. But as Namir says, that stops on Wednesday.”
    “Or sooner,” I said. “There’s no reason to trust the Others’ word on anything.”
    “Nothing we can do about that,” the president huffed. Except try to be flexible, I thought, which probably wasn’t his strong suit.
    “We’ve started to make a little progress,” a tall plain woman said. “I’m Lorena Monel, governor of Maryland. Or former governor. As you say, units as large as a state will probably have little meaning.
    “My committee on localization has gotten in touch with regional leaders in both major parties, and two other groups that represent significant numbers. Through them, we’ve made contact with thousands of community leaders and put them together in an information net—useless after the power goes off, but meanwhile they’re talking with people who will be within walking distance. Leaders with the same regional resources and problems.”
    “In Wyoming,” a slender tanned fellow drawled, “ain’t nobody in walking distance of nobody else. Except in the cities, and they’re pretty well lost.”
    “There won’t be anyone in Wyoming by the end of the week,” the president said. “No one but hermits. You going back?”
    The man stared back at him. “Good a place to die as any.”
    “Let’s get back on track,” the Maryland governor said. “We have this network for five days. How can we best use it?”
    “Turn it into a cell system,” the Harvard president said. “Have each community establish a line of communication with every adjacent one, through Lorena’s committee. Have each of them figure out a way to stay in contact with their immediate neighbors without high technology.”
    “Smoke signals,” the Wyoming man said.
    “Possibly. Signal fires, anyhow. The ancient Greeks did that.”
    “Horses and riders?” I said. “Are there enough people who still do that?”
    “Wouldn’t work if they did,” a short black man said. “Jerry Fenene, deputy secretary of commerce. In a couple of weeks, a horse isn’t going to be transportation. It’s going to be a million calories on the hoof. You don’t want to ride it anywhere near a hungry person with a gun.”
    “Bicycles are a near