Chapter 182

“Our masters have not heard the people’s voice for generations and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.”
—Alan Moore, V for Vendetta

29 DECEMBER 2021

If it’s Wednesday, this must be Fresno. If we do any more tours, I hope they give us a little more time between stops. Last night’s performance in San Francisco was depressing. The audience was more locals than National Service and had little invested in the politics of the situation. Most of the National Service Corps members who attended were brought in from the north across the bridge. I was told many came from the vineyards and citrus orchards. Grapes. What the fuck are National Service personnel doing picking grapes for wineries?

It used to be done by migrants, that’s what. On average, a picker can harvest between one and two tons of grapes a day. That’s hard, backbreaking work. No one goes into an employment agency and chooses to apply for a job picking grapes. The harvest finally ended a couple of weeks ago and the workers are being shuttled into orchards where orange and citrus harvests are just starting.

Without the National Service slave labor, California fruits and vegetables would rot in the fields and the grocery stores would be empty. We sure aren’t importing fruit and vegetables from Mexico!

We didn’t have questions and answers after the show because there was no live stream, but Dr. D suggested that we might want to plan on my little speech and encore after each performance. It felt a little flat but we got applause from the 3,000 who attended. Then we got on our bus and drove the 200 miles to Fresno during the night. We just slept on the bus until it started getting light out.

If we didn’t need showers and a decent nap, we’d just stay on the bus but Em says we have a couple of rooms in the Day’s Inn here so we can lounge and get cleaned up before tonight’s performance. I see Livy and Nanette are ready to run. It’s time to see what Fresno looks like by foot.

“Jacob, Dr. D wants to have dinner with you,” Donna said.

“I didn’t know she stayed after the first show,” I said. She’d spoken to me after the show and then disappeared. I hadn’t seen any sign of her since then. Of course, our routine was to simply board the bus after a show and move to the next location, sleep as much as we could, then get cleaned up to perform again. Somehow, our clothes were getting cleaned so they were fresh before each show. I didn’t know how that was being accomplished. Em always checked to be sure our laundry bags were properly tagged and picked up.

“She’s following closely,” Donna said. “I’m concerned that she wants to meet with you without any of the rest of the pod. She’s invited us all to dinner but wants to sit with you at a separate table so you can talk.”

“Sounds like she wants to fine tune the message,” I said. “Or pull the plug on it. What kind of timing do we have?”

“Early enough so we aren’t overstuffed by the time we go on at ten-thirty,” Donna said. “We might miss the first act tonight.”

“How do you like touring?” Dr. D asked when we were seated at our table. On the other side of the restaurant, I could see my girlfriends all at a large table.

“It’s tiring,” I said. “I think I’d be okay with it if we were performing every other day instead of in a new location every night.”

“This is an unusual tour. Everyone in all three acts and the stage crew are showing signs of wear. We’re just trying to make sure you all eat well and get some rest,” she said. “How did you manage to get local photos for your slide show last night?”

“We went for a run when we woke up yesterday and saw workers already in the fields at sunrise. When I got back, Em arranged a car for me so we could tour the almond orchards. The rice fields were an unexpected bonus and we got to watch one being flooded.”

“I’ve collected a number of images for you from the local area east of LA and on south. You might not need many of them as the first images you showed the commission were taken in this area. But I wanted to be sure you knew the conditions you described are still very much the same. There is a constant turnover of harvest and plant in the vegetable crops here and as we move down toward San Diego. I understand your sister started her service on a field to table delivery route near San Diego.”

“Yes. I didn’t get to ride with her down here like I did when she was transferred to Kansas. I’ll look through the new pictures but you have to know this makes me really mad. My friend has been working these fields for a year now. Her girlfriend who managed to reach her is the only thing keeping her alive,” I said, getting a little heated up. I wanted to spend some time tomorrow trying to find Leslie and Celia if I could.

“I’m going to ask you one small favor,” Dr. D said. “Please don’t say ‘Right fucking now,’ during the show tonight. Let me just say that change is coming rapidly and you’ll hear more about it Saturday. We don’t want to start a general strike the night before.” I nodded. I’d dropped an f-bomb the first night but had managed to eliminate that the past two nights. I did need to keep control of my tongue.

“I’ll contain myself,” I snorted.

“Next, you are likely to get mobbed by the press after the show tonight and even more tomorrow night. These things are a little slow getting started but once they start moving, they are a freight train,” she said.

“What things?” I asked.

“This was in yesterday’s San Francisco Chronicle. Not front page, but significant in coming after your performance there the night before.” She handed me a copy of the Lifestyle section with a circle around a review of the Tuesday night show. It was generally favorable and didn’t give unequal space to the three acts. It had the broadcast times for our New Year’s Eve show. In all, it looked pretty innocuous.

“Apparently, they liked the show,” I said. “That’s good, right?”

“Now look at this,” she said. She turned the page to the Opinion section. “Have Marvel and Hopkins Gone Too Far?” a headline read.

“Oh, shit,” I breathed. The anonymous writer cited our act specifically and suggested we were working toward a political agenda sponsored by factions of the commission. The writer further claimed our show was tantamount to calling for a general strike by the National Service field laborers and should be considered a treasonous attempt to incite a rebellion. “What should I do?”

“I haven’t given you a should or should not on any part of your performance,” Dr. D said. “You are not in the National Service and are not under orders for this performance. I wanted you to be aware of the broader impact you are having. We didn’t expect a response like this so soon. Actually, not before the New Year’s Eve broadcast. But calling for voters to vote out anyone who opposes reform has upset the holiday plans of some professional politicians. That’s why I think you can expect some press waiting to ambush you after the show tonight.”

“And I should just be my charming self and smile?” I asked.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something to say.”

“Why are you letting me just plow in and upset people?” I asked. “I appreciate not being censored but just letting us create our program and make our speeches is more freedom than I ever expected from either the National Service or the National School. Why?”

“First, you aren’t a member of the National Service or enrolled in the National School. I know that sounds like a cop-out but it is an important distinction between your group and the other two acts. It shows that the service is not censoring its performers and personnel and that we believe in the fundamental freedoms of individuals. We won’t contradict you or try to silence you, even when we disagree. That’s an important message for us to get across. But—and I think this is even more important—we on the commission, who organized this tour, believe change is mandatory. If we don’t push the change through, we will face the very rebellion you were accused of inciting. You are making this crystal clear to the world.”

“I just hope you and the commission can keep us from being shot for treason,” I sighed.

It wasn’t quite as bad as I was prepared for. There were half a dozen news people outside the venue when we left to board our bus and the questions were innocuous.

The reporters weren’t so kind in LA.

The concert in LA was a huge success, more than in Fresno and way more successful than San Francisco. The theater was unbelievably beautiful with about 2,200 in the audience. The acoustics were phenomenal and we worked without the band shell. And the audience sat in front of us and in balconies on both sides. I had to consider it the best performance we’d delivered yet. And I was told there were no tickets sold to the public. All the audience was National Service laborers, bused in from their various camps within seventy-five miles of Los Angeles.

I made sure all my pod mates were safely on the bus before I turned to face the reporters.

“Mr. Hopkins, are you attempting to incite a rebellion?” was the first question. I was best prepared for that one and with luck it would be the worst of the questions asked.

“No,” I said. “We understand the US code to specify that anyone who incites, sets on foot, assists, or engages in any rebellion or insurrection against the authority of the United States or the laws thereof is guilty under the code. However, the mounting of political campaigns for election to public office, no matter how heated it might be, is explicitly excluded from that definition. Unionization, even of federal employees, has also been considered a right. We encourage the organization of National Service Corps members—a civilian organization—and advocate the ouster by election of all representatives and senators who oppose National Service Reform. Both are protected activities.”

“That’s treason!” another reporter shouted.

“When I declared openly a few months ago that I’d read the manual, that includes having read the constitution. You should try it. Article three, section three of the constitution carefully defines treason, stating: Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. Mounting a political campaign to replace incompetent representatives is not included.”