things. In Seattle, everyone agreed that the government was doing the right thing.
Instead of her being a “liberal” in redneck country, now everyone in Seattle seemed
to think like her. Progressive. Smart. Open-minded. Caring. She felt like the decent
people were finally in charge. People like her.
Carol looked forward to a great new year. Things were on the right track. There was
way too much suffering out there, but people could still make it into Seattle. They
would be safe there. They could have their own little country there. There would be
no more rednecks telling them what to do.
The news—NPR was the only station left—was positive. There were small groups of terrorists
in the South and mountain West, the “Confederates” as the news called them, who were
still performing their killings. New Congresspersons and Senators had been appointed
for those states and Congress was meeting again. Somewhere.
But, order had been re-established. The federal government was functioning just fine.
There were lots of news stories about national parks being open and full of visitors.
Well, a few visitors on camera. The postal service was working. There were long delays
because of the restrictions on using the freeways and the gas rationing. Carol hadn’t
actually gotten any mail, but she’d heard on the news that the postal service was
working. There was no more junk mail; one good thing to come from the Crisis. There
were lots of stories on the news about celebrities and how things were just like the
old days for them. Shopping, having parties. Just like normal.
Seattle was certainly doing fine. While food was in short supply, Carol, as an FCorps
employee, had plenty of credits on her FCard. And the utilities were on. Not bad.
But all the good things in Seattle came at a price. Carol wondered how her brother
was doing. She hoped he had just grown out of his rebellious “Patriot” nonsense. He
was always a practical guy—a survivor. She and he had survived their terrible childhood,
so he would probably be fine. Besides, he was smart. He probably realized the right-wing
stuff was a lie. He had probably renounced it and was pitching in for the Recovery
there in Olympia. He would be fine. And so would his great kids. She missed them,
too.
Carol started thinking of little stocking stuffer gifts for her FCorps students. While
they didn’t have anymore “Christmas” traditions in Seattle—that was so divisive—they
could still do stocking stuffers. She had heard stockings were a Scandinavian pagan
tradition for winter solstice, so it was okay.
Carol got her coat on and went out for a walk. She was getting a latte at the university
bookstore. As long as there were lattes, everything was fine.
Chapter 257
Christmas Moonshine in Forks
(December 24)
The “Collapse Christmas” in Forks was truly memorable. Steve Briggs knew people would
talk about it for generations thereafter. It was an amazing mix of being incredibly
different than other Christmases while, at the same time, being very similar.
Christmases in the few years leading up to the Collapse had been slowly changing in
Forks. With D2, the Second Great Depression, going on before the Collapse, Christmases
became poorer and poorer. So a sparse Christmas, when it came to presents, not traditions,
was not new in rural Forks.
This was true in Steve’s family. A big part of his pay as the manager of the local
parts store was his performance bonus that was given out on the first of December.
Steve would wait all year for it and planned his household’s major purchases around
it. He tried to split the bonus between necessities—new tires for his wife’s car and
a new water heater—and nice things. The year before the Collapse, he managed to get
his wife the really fancy food processor she wanted. He got himself a gun safe, which
turned out to be a very valuable thing to
Instead of her being a “liberal” in redneck country, now everyone in Seattle seemed
to think like her. Progressive. Smart. Open-minded. Caring. She felt like the decent
people were finally in charge. People like her.
Carol looked forward to a great new year. Things were on the right track. There was
way too much suffering out there, but people could still make it into Seattle. They
would be safe there. They could have their own little country there. There would be
no more rednecks telling them what to do.
The news—NPR was the only station left—was positive. There were small groups of terrorists
in the South and mountain West, the “Confederates” as the news called them, who were
still performing their killings. New Congresspersons and Senators had been appointed
for those states and Congress was meeting again. Somewhere.
But, order had been re-established. The federal government was functioning just fine.
There were lots of news stories about national parks being open and full of visitors.
Well, a few visitors on camera. The postal service was working. There were long delays
because of the restrictions on using the freeways and the gas rationing. Carol hadn’t
actually gotten any mail, but she’d heard on the news that the postal service was
working. There was no more junk mail; one good thing to come from the Crisis. There
were lots of stories on the news about celebrities and how things were just like the
old days for them. Shopping, having parties. Just like normal.
Seattle was certainly doing fine. While food was in short supply, Carol, as an FCorps
employee, had plenty of credits on her FCard. And the utilities were on. Not bad.
But all the good things in Seattle came at a price. Carol wondered how her brother
was doing. She hoped he had just grown out of his rebellious “Patriot” nonsense. He
was always a practical guy—a survivor. She and he had survived their terrible childhood,
so he would probably be fine. Besides, he was smart. He probably realized the right-wing
stuff was a lie. He had probably renounced it and was pitching in for the Recovery
there in Olympia. He would be fine. And so would his great kids. She missed them,
too.
Carol started thinking of little stocking stuffer gifts for her FCorps students. While
they didn’t have anymore “Christmas” traditions in Seattle—that was so divisive—they
could still do stocking stuffers. She had heard stockings were a Scandinavian pagan
tradition for winter solstice, so it was okay.
Carol got her coat on and went out for a walk. She was getting a latte at the university
bookstore. As long as there were lattes, everything was fine.
Chapter 257
Christmas Moonshine in Forks
(December 24)
The “Collapse Christmas” in Forks was truly memorable. Steve Briggs knew people would
talk about it for generations thereafter. It was an amazing mix of being incredibly
different than other Christmases while, at the same time, being very similar.
Christmases in the few years leading up to the Collapse had been slowly changing in
Forks. With D2, the Second Great Depression, going on before the Collapse, Christmases
became poorer and poorer. So a sparse Christmas, when it came to presents, not traditions,
was not new in rural Forks.
This was true in Steve’s family. A big part of his pay as the manager of the local
parts store was his performance bonus that was given out on the first of December.
Steve would wait all year for it and planned his household’s major purchases around
it. He tried to split the bonus between necessities—new tires for his wife’s car and
a new water heater—and nice things. The year before the Collapse, he managed to get
his wife the really fancy food processor she wanted. He got himself a gun safe, which
turned out to be a very valuable thing to
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