Chapter 167

“Americans worship technology. It’s an inherent trait in the national zeitgeist.”
—Max Brooks, World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War

“SIX 6-MINUTE MILES followed by a 5.5-minute mile,” Jock yelled at us Thursday. “I want to see you building for a kick at the end of your races.” We were practicing at The Plex where Saturday’s race would be held. That meant we’d take a mile on the outdoor track to start, then feed ourselves into the 10k course from that point on. The New Haven Classic would have fifteen teams competing. It was the team’s last competition before sectionals. Hard to believe the season was almost over.

Of course, the team being finished for the season didn’t mean I was. I wouldn’t run in the sectional at Northrop. Instead, I’d be competing in the Pokagon Half Marathon the next day. But before that, I had the Covered Bridges Half Marathon in Parke County next weekend. This weekend would be my last 10k cross country meet.

It was with that in mind that I set the pace through four laps around the track and then hit the trail with my team pacing me behind. That’s only partly true, of course. The six other guys who ran with me as our seven-man team at the meets were keeping pace with me. The other dozen on our total team were soon spread out and trailing behind. They’d come a long way in the two months of the season, but they weren’t up to the level of competing. Every one of them had shown big improvement through the season, though.

When we crossed the five-mile mark on the trail, I started increasing the pace until we were running a much harder 5:30 pace. We broke into the bubble with half a klick to go and I was pleased to see all six guys were with me and one was trailing by only a hundred yards. I didn’t try to run away from them. I ran faster than the 36:45 that we finished in last week at West Noble, but this was a team training event and the team did great.

“Jock, how about I don’t run Saturday?” I said.

“I thought this was your favorite course,” he said. “And you know that girl from North Huntington is going to be gunning for you again.”

“Yeah. It would be a shame to miss her, but look at the team. If I don’t run, all six of the guys will be in scoring position. We might not have as high a first-place finish, but I think they’d still place first or second without me. I won’t be running at sectionals with them and it would be good for them to know that as a team they’re still competitive.”

“That’s good thinking, Jacob. You know how I feel about running as a team. You built them this summer. I agree. You’ll have your work cut out for you next weekend in Parke County.”

“Nanette and I are thinking we’ll go down for the race on Friday night instead of making the long drive on Saturday morning.”

“I was going to suggest that. It’s almost 200 miles down there. You’ll need rest. Please have Emily give me a call. She’ll be the school employee as your driver and will have a voucher for your hotel and gas.”

“Thanks, Jock.”

“This Saturday...”

“I was thinking that if I wasn’t running, I might be able to head to Chicago earlier than I’d planned,” I broke in. He looked at me and grinned.

“Yeah. Do that.”

Before Beca and I could hit the road Friday afternoon, Cindy and I had to do the commission reenactment for Richards’s class. It turned out that he’d done exactly the same exercise in Beca’s class with Desi and Brittany on one side and an interview panel on the other. We thought we were pretty well prepared but got hit with a question I wasn’t really expecting.

“You propose that families, relationships, and individual interests be considered in assigning inductees to their training camps and stations,” Rick Allen said. He was a pretty sharp guy and I listened carefully to his question. “Doesn’t that create a special class of people that get special considerations? It seems that having the computer assign everyone based on aptitude and needed distribution is a fairer system and guarantees equal treatment under the law. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Hmm. I had to puzzle over that one. This whole equal treatment under the law thing was still new to me. In V1’s world there would be exceptions, exemptions, and deferments out the wazoo. Here, there were none.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take that question,” Cindy said in her soft voice. I was shocked. Everyone leaned forward to hear her better. “Rita Jones, please don’t be offended that I use you as an example. Commissioners, Rita is disabled. She uses a wheelchair. In this building, there are ramps and even an elevator that will get her to second floor classrooms. She has special textbooks that are lighter for her to handle. Her physical education classes are customized so she can participate in a level of exercise that she’s capable of. These are all special considerations that serve to equalize her footing with other classmates. They serve, in fact, to give her equal status that she would not have without these special considerations.”

“You can’t possibly consider your desire to stay with your lover to be the same as having a physical handicap, can you?” Rick asked. “Although I admit it seems to be for some people.” The class laughed.

“The same? No. But it illustrates the fact that we can take into account the needs and desires of individuals while still maintaining equality and not creating a separate class of people. There is ample evidence, in fact, that acknowledging the unique relationships in this situation, as has been done in military training and assignment, enhances the individual’s ability and willingness to perform at her best. Equality under the law does not mean sameness. We are all individuals and shoehorning every individual into the same mold is actually denying their equal value as individuals.”

I was proud of Cindy. She didn’t even become flustered when Rick implied we were lovers. I know I blushed. We had some more discussion before the class was over and Mr. Richards promised we would study the concept of equality under the law, as it was fundamental to our constitution.

Beca and I had already packed and had our bags in the truck, so as soon as the bell rang, we kissed our lovers goodbye and headed toward Chicago.

“Executive decision,” Ray said. “Since you were able to get here a day earlier than you thought, we decided on dinner out tonight. We can start talking about the service tomorrow morning.” That was fine with me. We’d hit rush hour traffic and it took us an hour and a half to get into Chicago to the Longs’ condo. It was one of those nights when V1 would have settled for a cigar and martini. I definitely didn’t want to start down that track at seventeen.

“Thank you, Ray,” Beca said. “A more relaxed evening will give us more time with Joan.”

“I know you make up reasons to need my advice just so you can be together,” Ray laughed. We left the condo and went to dinner at the hippie place Joan liked so much down by the river. The food was good and the conversation was lively. I’d come to really like Ray and Debbie.

And later, dining on Joan, was nice, too.

“What are the big concerns?” Ray asked after we’d had breakfast and settled in the living room with coffee. It still amazed me how much I’d come to respect and depend on Joan’s father. His company was doing incredible work in artificial intelligence and even though he was a CEO and not an engineer, he had a remarkable understanding of the structure and science his engineers were developing.

“I’ll try to lay them all on the table and we can cover them in whatever order you think is best,” I said. “First, it seems like the National School is acting under the assumption that the reform act has already been written and passed into law. They are recruiting to have individuals join their school as a part of National Service. One of my worries is that we will come up to July 2022 and Cindy will volunteer to start service early so we can go to the school and then we’ll find out they didn’t have the ability or authority to make the offers they made. We’ll end up split, doing roadwork, or typing reports instead of playing in an orchestra or on a deputation team.” Ray jotted down some notes as he nodded and then indicated for me to continue.

“It’s beginning to feel like we’ve already joined the service. The National School is managing three more performances before we ever get to DC. They are getting the audience, providing the tech, paying us to perform, putting out the stream, and paying all our expenses. Donna has been working with them on the schedule and it looks like they want us to perform the week between Christmas and New Year’s in Southern California for the corps personnel who are working the fields. And we’re not talking about a single performance. We can do the same program, but they want it performed every day for a different live audience. One of them will be live streamed.”

“Wow! That is really pushing you,” Ray said. “We’ll talk about that a lot.”

“Okay, next. We were all under the impression you simply couldn’t negotiate with the National Service. One of the things that has people chafing about it is the lack of choice or influence on where an individual serves or what he does. But we’ve got some significant issues to deal with when we join up. Like, ‘What happens to our 5,000 patrons and ability to provide music for them and collect their money once we enter service?’ We could lose a significant amount of income if we have to suspend our patron service in exchange for the wage the National Service offers us. And trying to gain that audience back after a two-year suspension might be near impossible.”