Re: SDN In the Sea of Time
Posted: 2010-03-07 09:44pm
by Alferd Packer
Day 361, Afternoon, Nantucket
The conference room was at capacity, and arranged in a manner not entirely dissimilar to the room in which Packer's trial was held. On one side of a long table sat a dozen or more Councilors. Behind them were a second and third row of seats, all filled with people. There were exactly two chairs on the opposite side of the table.
Packer and Nara took two steps into the room; she was simply following his cues. The door shut behind them, and for a long moment, no one moved. He stood, stone-faced, jaw set hard, trying not to betray the apprehension and...fear? Yes, it was fear that was feeling. These people, in their own way, scared the hell out of him. But he refused to show it.
He could see that they were soaking him and Nara in. He had to remind himself--again--how strange they must look in their leather clothes and seashell jewelry, especially him. He took the opportunity to size up each man individually; barring a few exceptions, no one even came remotely close to being in as good a condition as Packer. They looked like, well, white collar workers from back in the future, although none of them came close to being overweight. They were just...soft, dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, probably wearing loafers. The common expression on their faces seemed to be that of awe--some were angry, others suspicious, still others seemed hopeful or even happy--but they all regarded him with a quiet awe.
The Chairman, deciding that they had stared at each other long enough, said briskly, "Mister Packer. Missus Packer. Please, have a seat."
Packer did so, pulling out the chair first for his wife. When they were seated, the Chairman went on, "So, after six months and against all odds, you've managed to come back. As you can probably guess, we would like you to shed some light on a few things." He glanced down at a piece of paper. "I'll just read these all off, and we can address them in turn.
"One: why did you return in secret and under the cover of darkness?
"Two: why did you come straight to the hospital, instead of checking in with us for a proper debriefing?
"Three: how many people were involved in your retrieval?
"Four: You have been seen speaking with the Machinists. Are you, in fact, plotting with them to begin your sedition anew?
"Five: Why have you come back now, instead at the first available opportunity?"
The Chairman looked up from his list. Packer did his best to look bored. Finally, he said. "And it's very nice to see you all, too. Well, let's see if I can't knock these out succinctly:
"One: because I don't trust any of you to exercise due care for my wife, and she is my top priority.
"Two: there are two reasons. Firstly, my wife here is pregnant and her well-being trumps all. Secondly, the last time I surrendered myself to your custody you tried to kill me."
The Chairman seemed, strangely, off-put by this. "Now, really, Mister Packer--"
"Oh, come on, Mister Chairman," Packer snapped. "There's no reason to deny it. Why on earth should I grant any of you any measure of trust? Would you do that, if you were in my shoes? It's simple risk management. Avoiding you and securing myself in a neutral location," Packer gestured around him, "allowed me to both account for my wife's health and well-being, as well as my own personal security, while not risking precipitating a riot or other injurious action by demanding the protection of, say, the Machinists."
The Chairman was silent. Packer continued: "Three: eight. Eight people was all it took to get me back from Cape Cod and to the hospital.
"Four: They got to me before you guys did. I'm not plotting anything with them as sexy as sedition, but I'm hoping to help them heal a rift they've caused in my absence."
At this, one of the Councilors in the back spoke: "Don't bother. The Machinists' days are numbered. We're sick of them having us by the short hairs. Pretty soon, we're not gonna need them anymore."
Packer leaned over, to try and get a clear view of the speaker. "Well, then it won't hurt to try to heal the rift anyway, right?" was Packer's response. Then to the Chairman: "Where were we again? Oh, yeah.
"Five: I resisted coming back earlier because I didn't want to come back. I came back now because I wanted to allow you to get the harvest in without any sort of distraction. Additionally, I came back now because my departure from my tribe at this time of year is a natural part of their yearly migration, so it was important that I stay until then."
"Beg pardon, Mister Packer," Mike said, "but your tribe? What the hell?"
"Sorry, not my tribe," Packer said. "The tribe to which I belong. I'm not their leader or anything; I'm just a contributing member. What, you think I'm wearing this to make a fashion statement? This is what we wear." This prompted several Councilors to whisper amongst themselves.
"So, Mister Packer," the Chairman said. "There's rather quite a bit we have to discuss, yes? We've gone back and forth as to where to begin. We've speculated endlessly about your motivations, the threat you pose to this community, how best to check that threat, and so on. Frankly, we're not all convinced that you are threat, in light of recent developments." He couldn't avoid a quick glance at Nara, who was sitting still and listening intently. "So, please, enlighten us. You've said you wanted to conduct negotiations," he gestured, leaning back in his chair, "by all means, begin."
Packer leaned forward, planting his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. "That's correct, Mister Chairman. But when I say negotiations, it's probably in a manner and to an end that you've not anticipated Or maybe you have. Regardless, I feel I must clarify something first.
"As you have said, I've already spoken with the Machinists. I've said to them what I'm about to say to you, so please don't think I'm trying to pull a fast one on either them or you." He took a deep breath. "I, Alferd Packer, before all of you, hereby and formally renounce any and all association with the Machinists of the Island of Nantucket. I am no longer, in any capacity, in command of them or privy to their workings."
There was a bit of stirring at this, mainly from the Shark and those seated directly behind him. "Further," Packer went on, "I'd like to take this opportunity to renounce any notion of legal residency or...or hell, citizenship that might be inferred by me being here. Though I do share a commonality between everyone residing on Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, I no longer identify myself as one you, and I do hope that you'll treat with me as such."
The uproar that this caused wasn't so much an uproar, as it was a flurry of hushed, excited whispering. The Chairman responded, "That's...rather interesting, Mister Packer. I don't think anyone's ever said something like that, to my knowledge. I presume then, that you identify with group of natives you've been living with for the past six months? Your tribe, as you say?"
"You presume correctly, Mister Chairman," Packer said, nodding once. "I feel I need to make this as clear as possible: I am not a Machinist. I am not a part of the community of Nantucket or any of its colonies. I am here as...a diplomat, if you will. I come with the blessing of the Elders of the Atlingdettachok, who reside on the bay side of Cape Cod, to establish friendly relations with the community of Nantucket on their behalf." Nara looked at him, as Atlingdettachok simply meant "people from the summer lands." It was in no way an identifier that anyone in the tribe used--you were either in the tribe, or you were an outsider.
The Chairman's mouth twitched; presumably, he was fighting the urge to laugh at Packer. Truth be told, Packer could hardly blame him. Listening back to what he just said, it certainly bordered on ridiculous.
"Mister Chairman," Packer said, "I'm sure this sounds silly. But this is how I feel. I don't feel like I belong here, and I don't think I ever will again."
"And why is that, Mister Packer?" The Chairman asked.
"Well, I've thought on that for a long time," Packer said. "It has to do with the circumstances of my departure. See, for a while I thought you wanted me simply to die. And please, let's not maintain any kind of pretense. You all know as well as I what transpired, so I hope we can move on with that in the clear. Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more I realized what your true aim was.
"It wasn't enough that I die. If that would have sufficed, I would've taken a trip to the gallows. You needed to remove my influence from the island. If we consider the island a tapestry and each person on it a string or a thread, you needed to strip my thread out, not simply cut my string short. Dead at your hands is the latter. Sending me away to die is the former, or at least as close to it as you can get.
"So then, when I don't die as planned, what does my exile become? It becomes a rejection. It's as clear a statement you can make without saying it. 'Alferd Packer, we find your ideas so reprehensible and dangerous that we need to expunge you from our society.' "
Packer gestured with his hands. "So, fine, whatever. I get it. I was mad about it for a time, of course, but I'm over that. You guys were doing what you thought was necessary, and actually, I'm not even angry rehashing it.
"The point is this: you rejected me. Someone else accepted me." He took Nara's hand. "I don't know what kind of ridiculous ideas you have about what I've been up to, but it's as simple as this: I'm no longer part of Nantucket or its society. My place is with my wife's people. With my people. They've accepted me as one of their own without judgment or reservation, and...well, what can I say? A man goes where he's wanted."
"Well, that's very interesting, Mister Packer," the Chairman replied. "But it begs the question: if we have rejected you, as you said, and they have accepted you, why have you come back at all?"
"A fair question, and a loaded one," Packer replied with a wan smile. "I came back for several reasons. If you weren't aware, conditions on the mainland are extremely primitive. All tribe members must contribute. Now, while I am getting better at hunting, I'm not good enough yet to feed myself during the winter. The margins are so low that this incompetence would place an undue burden on my family. Compound this with the fact that my wife is pregnant and has greater nutritional demands, I literally cannot survive the winter out there without risking the lives of others. While you may be a low margin society, you at least have the ability to feed two extra people without appreciable burden on yourselves.
"The second reason I came back is sitting right next to me." He glanced over at Nara, and, as if on cue, she smiled at him. "I take my responsibilities as a husband very seriously," Packer said, looking pointedly at Gail Underhill. "Moreover, I place supreme importance on the health and well-being of my wife, as well as our daughter. Oh, I should probably mention: we found out last night that we're having a girl."
Packer allowed that to sink in. It looked like several Councilors wanted speak, perhaps to offer congratulations, but that it would seem too awkward to do so. Well, at any rate, they looked like they wanted to say something. He continued, "It is a plain fact that if I brought my wife to Nantucket, she would have the best odds of carrying our baby to term, being healthy, and having the baby be healthy. I would be an irresponsible idiot if I let my own emotions or...prejudices, get the better of me in this regard. And, as I originally thought, my wife has been treated with the utmost care so far.
"Third: I feel guilty. Yes, hard as that may be to swallow, I feel genuine guilt about what I've done."
"What have you done, Mister Packer?" The Chairman asked.
"This is going back, oh, almost five months now. I chanced to run into someone from Nantucket. I told 'em to spread the word that I was still alive and that I was coming back. I wasn't married at this point, so there really was no urgent need for me to come back, or to even let it be known that I was alive. So why would I have this person go spread the word?"
Packer leaned forward. "It took me a while to realize this, but I did it out of anger. I wanted to hurt you for what you did to me, and the only way I could think of to do that is start up all that shit again. To cast doubt upon you. To undermine your authority. It shames me to say it, but I see no reason not to be honest, since my immature effort obviously failed."
"Not by much," the Chairman grumbled. "You know that you actions have had consequences? Inspired people in your absence? Led to violence?"
"Yes sir," Packer replied. "But again, that's the reason I came back. Truth be told, my wife and I might have been able to survive the winter out on the mainland. If I feared immediate arrest and torture at the hands of the Watch, I probably would have chanced it. But I am here and I am committed to ending the cycle of bullshit before Nantucket tears itself apart."
"And you know how you're going to do that?" a Councilor near the back sneered.
"Not me," Packer said. "Us. I'm not going to be a revolutionary or whatever anymore. Right or wrong, you guys beat me, and I can accept that. I'm defeated. Congratulations, cigars all around. It doesn't change the fact that there are real problems brewing on Nantucket right now that must be dealt with. I've moved on, and I hope you all can, too."
"So you want to work with us now?" The Chairman asked.
Packer ran his eyes over the front row of Councilors. "Yes. In my estimation, you still have the best chance at keeping this island stable. And that's what I really want. A stable Nantucket. In the short term, that allows my wife the best chance of giving birth to our daughter. In the long term, it means prosperity for my tribe."
"So, you're going to tell us what to do now, are you?" someone sitting behind the Shark said.
Packer took a deep breath, fighting to keep calm. "No. I'm only going to offer solutions to specific problems. It will be up to you to implement, modify, or ignore them as you see fit. Honestly, I could give a shit about how you guys run this island. As long as it's stable, and not a threat to my tribe, I'm happy. You can engage in as much petty politicking and bickering as you like.
"I realize that I'm in a unique position. I apparently enjoy great popular support, and I am willing to use that support only to stabilize this island. That's it. Mister Chairman, would you like to know where I'll be on April fifteenth of next year?"
The Chairman sighed. He looked like he was getting a headache. "Where, Mister Packer."
"Not on Nantucket. I'm going back to my tribe, with my wife and daughter, and hey, you know what? If you want, I'll never come back. I'll happily spend the rest of my life living with my family, and I'll never interfere with Nantucket again. But I do ask that you allow me to try to set things right before I go. If I want to live with a clear conscience, I have to try. If you grant me that, I think we'll be able to help each other."
Day 361, Afternoon, Nantucket
The reaction to this ranged from guarded triumph to a kind of sad resignation. "This is all well and good, Mister Packer," the Chairman said, "but you have said that you do not trust us. You've said that you were angry with us, and that you wanted to wound us. You've also said that you're over your anger, but how do we know? How can we trust you?"
Packer looked around at the table. "Does anyone have the time?"
There were a momentary shuffling of sleeves. "About 3 PM," someone in the back said.
"Thanks," Packer replied. He turned to the Chairman. "Sir, if you could get in touch with the Watch, I'd ask you to have them dispatch a squad or a team or whatever to the high school football field. Underneath the bleachers, near the end zone closest to the school, there will be two blue plastic garbage cans. These contain the plans stolen by the Machinists."
Over the uproar, Packer continued to speak. "As a gesture of good faith, I've asked the Machinists to do this, and they've complied. I hope you will take this as a sign of my sincerity, as well as theirs."
The Chairman stood and exited the conference room. He could be heard talking on a radio just outside, though his voice was indistinct.
Nara turned to him. "I have been watching the others," she whispered in her native speech. "I think the people on the left are your enemies. The ones on the right are your friends."
Packer scanned the Council. "I agree," he replied quietly. He pointed at the Shark, who was indeed sitting to the left of center. "He is the one who hates me the most. Did Kaley tell you about him?" Nara thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
"She left him because he was cruel to you, yes?" Packer nodded.
The Shark, who'd seemed content to allow others to talk for him, was watching this, and spoke up. "Say, Packer, your, ah, wife is pregnant, right? You'd really think it's yours? I mean, I know that those...things can reverse themselves sometimes, but...come on." He grinned, and a few Councilors behind him snickered.
Packer flexed his arms, keeping his anger in check. "That's pretty presumptuous of you, James. Who are you to question someone else's manhood? I mean, aren't you gonna be fucking your hand for the rest of your life?"
Someone on right-hand side of the room started laughing loudly. The Shark, probably for the first time in a long time, didn't seem to have anything to say. Instead, he glowered at Packer for a few moments, until the Chairman re-entered the room.
"Well, while the Watch cautiously investigates your claim, Mister Packer," The Chairman said, "let us proceed--temporarily--under the assumption that you are telling the truth. We haven't actually gotten to any sort of negotiations. You've said you wanted to establish friendly relations between us and your tribe. What does that entail?"
"It has to do with the future, Mister Chairman," Packer said. "And the fact that, right now, you have none."
"How do you mean?" The Chairman asked, though his face betrayed that he knew exactly what Packer was going to say.
"The Thing That Shall Not Be Named In Polite Company." Packer smoothed his hair. "Now that you've demonstrated that you can feed everyone on Nantucket, there's, ostensibly, nothing to stop the bulk of you from living relatively long, comfortable lives here. And when people stop to think about the future, the fact the next generation is going to be about twenty times smaller than the present one tends to put a damper on their mood. That is what I mean when you have no future."
"Yes, this is something we're well aware of," the Chairman grumbled. "Why does this make you want to negotiate?"
"Let's fast-forward," Packer replied. "Oh, I don't know, ten years. There's no more busywork. The population's getting older. The Watch is worn down by attrition. Electricity's starting to go, and for good. To be blunt, the civilized facade is starting to erode. Biological imperatives are getting harder and harder to ignore, because they're all that people have left. What happens when a bunch of like-minded Neanderthals get to together and decide go raiding the nearest native village for, and please pardon the crudity of the language, some pussy? Sorry, but anything even approximating that cannot happen any more than it already has."
"Already, Mister Packer?"
"I'm speaking of the people who've escaped. There aren't many, of course, but you must realize that they are leaving. A fishing boat goes out with twenty crew and comes back with fifteen. An exile on Martha's Vineyard just isn't there one day. What happens if one of these rogues decides to rape a native girl? Isn't that going sour contact between you and them when you show up in force?" Packer leveled his gaze at the Chairman. "You must know this is happening, Mister Chairman."
The Chairman sighed. "Indeed we do, Mister Packer. It would seem you're not entirely in the dark about what's been happening these past six months."
"I've got a rough idea," he confirmed. "Nothing to in-depth, of course, but at any rate, you see my predicament. Even if just one group of sex-crazed lunatics got ahold of some guns...well, the damage they could do is not something I want to even entertain. I want to head off any possibility of such an event, and that is why I want to negotiate."
"Very well. Do you have terms?" The Chairman uncapped a pen.
"Yes. I want to build a permanent, positive relationship between my tribe and Nantucket. To that end, I seek to implement a solution to the above problem. Call it...a cultural exchange, if you will. For its first phase, during the winter, I want to teach language classes."
"Language classes?" someone in the back said.
"That is correct," Packer replied in his most articulate native speech. "You cannot understand a single word I am saying. No one can, except for Nara." She giggled at his demonstration. "If I teach you, this would not be a problem."
The assembled Councilors stared at him. Packer said, in English now, "I want to teach people how to speak my tribe's language. To give them an understanding of its culture. This is important, Mister Chairman. We need to understand our two cultures if you are to survive. To be mutually antagonistic will, eventually, ruin us both. Together, we can truly prosper, and, dare I say it, conquer the impending crisis of demography."
"How will language classes accomplish that?" The Chairman asked.
Packer held his hands out. "By preparing its students for phase two: leaving Nantucket and going to live with my tribe. To teach skills to members of my tribe. To begin construction of a new, permanent settlement, which both my tribe and these individuals from Nantucket can call home."
"So you want us to elevate you," someone behind the Shark sneered. "Un-fucking-believable."
Packer rolled his eyes. "Not quite, because elevation typically involves just giving people something. The great mistake the White Man has made throughout history in situations like this can be summed up as, 'Here, Brown People! Have all this awesome stuff, but don't think you can be a part of our society. Just sit over there in the corner and feel utterly useless for the rest of your lives.' What I want is for my tribe to learn. To learn correct construction techniques. To learn proper agriculture. Metalworking. Woodworking. Animal husbandry. Basic medicine. Yes, there will be some amount of giving, but it's going to be limited to tools and machines, some basic construction materials which, thanks to the efforts of your wrecking crews, you have in abundance. You'd be giving my tribe the tools, talent, and yes, the personnel, to found a sustainable agrarian community."
"And this fixes our gender ratio...how?" the Chairman asked.
"It doesn't fix it in one fell swoop. No, it gets you on the right track." Packer sat up. "Allow me to share with you a very interesting statistic about my village. There are one hundred twenty-four men, and one hundred sixty-eight women living there."
The room was silent. Now they're listening, Packer thought. He went on: "Further, of those extra forty-four women, thirty-eight are of child-bearing age. Of course, they may not all be as young, pretty, and intelligent as my wife," he looked at Nara with a smile, "but they are good women. Many are widows and are caring for young children. They want husbands; there just aren't enough men.
"So!" Packer exclaimed after a moment, "It's not a solution at a stroke, but it is a start. It is a seed of hope which you cannot otherwise provide. Sure, not everyone who goes out will find a wife right away, but as the settlement grows and prospers, it will attract the attention of other natives. I've spoken with my tribe's elders, and they're aware of at least half a dozen other settlements or groups within the area who are, if not friendly, at least cordial. What's more, you don't even need to pair off men with women to help this problem; you do have a few hundred gay couples on the island, and I'm sure they're more than willing to adopt."
A faint murmur rippled through the Councilors. The Chairman replied, "I must say, it's an interesting proposal, Mister Packer. I also must point out that you are not the only source we have available for obtaining access to more women. The Eagle, as I'm sure you're aware, is due back shortly. They will, I would wager, be bringing back women."
"Great!" Packer said. "Terrific! I don't want to present myself as a monopoly. But come on, Mister Chairman. You're not going to put your eggs into one basket. I'm offering you relatively painless access to a friendly native population some thirty miles away. They're crossing three thousand miles of ocean, and we both know that the Eagle can't do that forever."
The Chairman actually smiled. "Quite apt, Mister Packer."
Packer smiled back. "Further, by introducing this program as I have described, you're giving people who want it a way out. I'm positive that many among you...hell, maybe even a majority of you, will never want to leave this island. You're too...stuck on the past, let's say. This island is the last vestige of...well, everything that happened before. The last of the familiar. You may not be able to go home, but out there? To shed every last link to the world you knew?
"But then there are those who want that very thing! Who want to eschew everything and start over! This is an outlet for them, and it will allow them to exercise that desire in a constructive manner. To create agrarian communities on the mainland will allow you to devote more of your resources to your most important task: preserving as much technology and knowledge as possible, so that when the machinery finally starts to break, you don't have so far to fall."
This got the Councilors talking. Packer sat back, taking a deep breath. Nara leaned over and whispered, "They aren't angry like they were when we first entered. You are convincing them. Well, most of them." Packer glanced over at the Shark, and he was quietly grimacing. At intervals, someone seated behind him whispered something in his hear, but he could've otherwise passed for a statue.
It was then that were was a knock on the door. Packer and Nara turned; everyone else looked up. A Watchman poked his head in, made a thumb-and-forefinger circle, then closed the door.
Packer had never seen the Chairman look happy before, but there he was. "Well then! Mister Packer, it appears that you've made good on your word. I must say, I've been impressed with your sincerity, and your good-faith gesture suggest that you are--"
Someone was laughing.
It wasn't loud. Or maniacal. Or even creepy. It sounded like someone was genuinely tickled about something and was enjoying a quiet chuckle.
Packer wasn't the least surprised that the chuckling was coming from the Shark.
"Hee hee, ho boy!" He wiped a non-existent tear away from his eye. "Wow, this has been rich. You're damn good, Mister Packer. You've even got me convinced. Almost."
"James," there was barest threatening edge to the Chairman's voice, "what are you doing?"
"I can see why your portrayal of Star Wars was such a big hit, Packer," the Shark said with grin, having apparently not heard the Chairman at all. In fact, he had locked eyes with Packer and was grinning that same wolfish grin he'd had on him at the trial. Packer had to fight the urge to gulp, and instead gave the Shark a thousand-yard stare. The Shark went on, standing up now. "But this is just like that, isn't it? Imagination. Play-acting. Fiction." The last word dripped with quiet disgust, as if he was spitting it out.
"James," The Chairman hissed through clenched teeth, "sit down."
"Absolutely not, sir," James replied evenly, as though they were discussing routine business. "Don't you see? You've been roped in by him. This is all part of his ploy, to lull us into a false sense of security! Don't blame yourselves though; Packer's real good. Like I said, he almost had me going." His tone was now quiet, but at the same time deadly. He stared down at Packer, and now Packer had to fight the urge to stand up, too. His brain, however, was concocting all sorts of ways to quickly get over the table and get within striking distance of the Shark, so he kept his ass in the chair. "But I will not stand idly by while he plants the seeds of this Council's destruction."
"That's a baseless accusation, and I won't have you doing that here," The Chairman's voice was trembling, as though he were trying his best to keep himself from shouting.
"It is most definitely not baseless, Mister Chairman!" The Shark's voice was speeding up now, as he addressed the Councilors. "Packer may appear charming, but it's all facade. After all...what's the old saying? You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar?" He offered a friendly wink towards Packer, and Packer suddenly found himself suffused in cold sweat. Nara laid a hand on his forearm, which at least kept him from trembling too badly.
"James," the Chairman's voice was ice, his hands white-knuckled fists. "This is not the appropriate venue."
"Oh, but it is!" James cried out suddenly. A few people in the room jumped at the sudden increase in volume. "I will not be cowed by this man...by this snake! By this harbinger of our doom! I will show you Packer's exact intentions, and I will prove to you that he is the single gravest threat to our society!" He exhaled sharply, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, but dripping with venom. "I--we--need to undo the damage that he has done before it spreads beyond this room. And, before this meeting adjourns, I will show you why we have to send him and his like-minded ilk away from this island. Forever."
Day 361, Afternoon, Nantucket
"I'm getting tired of repeating myself, James," the Chairman growled. "You will cease talking immediately and sit back down, or I will have you removed! Whatever this is, it can wait!"
"Mister Chairman, it cannot wait." The Shark continued to address the Council. "Ladies and gentlemen, if Packer leaves this room a free man, he will be out among the general population. He'll be free to wreak havoc on us, like a late-season hurricane. And by the time spring rolls around, this island will be in much the same shape as you'd expect it to be after such a storm.
"Fortunately," the Shark said with a grin, "Packer has graciously segregated himself from the general population, which is going to make this much easier."
Then, in a move that he must have spent a good hour practicing the night before, he shot his hand out towards one of the Councilors seated behind him, and whipping it in a tight arc, slammed a small stack of papers onto the table. He stood, glaring triumphantly, like he'd just made a kill of some particularly elusive animal.
"Proof!" he spat. "Proof that our dear Mister Packer is a burgeoning threat and must be dealt with immediately."
Packer glanced over at the Chairman. He still looked angry, but... "Alright, James. What do you have?" Packer winced internally.
"First item. Sworn statements from six Watchmen who encountered Packer yesterday, while he was plotting with his 'former' fellow Machinists." He swooped a hand down and snatched up the top sheet, which had been highlighted.
" 'After requesting Packer enter protective custody,' " The Shark read, " 'he became violently angry and threatening towards me. He spoke of how he killed another man for beating his wife while on Cape Cod. He then threatened to rip my throat out with his teeth if I pressed the matter.' "
The Shark then rolled his eyes. "But no, Packer's an eminently reasonable individual! Downright likable, even! Wouldn't harm a fly, right?" He threw the sheet of paper towards the Chairman, as though he were disgusted even holding it. "No reason to distrust him. No reason to think that he didn't go at least a little crazy out there, ladies and gentlemen." He swung his gaze around to Packer, a predatory gleam in his eye.
Packer responded, "I'm certain, Mister Chairman, that those statements omit the threat of physical violence to my person, as well as the threat made against my wife." He then sat up a bit.
"No such threats were made!" the Shark snorted, picking up a second sheet. "Here, look! 'Packer, flanked by his buddies, challenged us to a physical confrontation. Seemed completely unmindful of the fact that we were armed.' " He turned to the Council. "You want to negotiate with someone so disconnected from reality? If the rest of the population found out about this, we'd be laughed off the island!"
The Chairman was examining the first statement. "And you say these Watchmen threatened you, Mister Packer?"
"Absolutely. I'm sure that the Machinists present will sign sworn statements to that effect...but then they'll say we're in cahoots with one another, and we'll accuse them of the same thing, and 'round and 'round we'll go." Packer folded his arms.
"Frankly, Mister Packer," the Shark jumped in, "I think the Watchmen are a little more trustworthy than you and your little personality cult, and I think that the good Councilors before you would agree."
"James," The Chairman said. "This goddamn flimsy at best. If you--"
"Oh, don't you worry, there's more." The Shark brushed the other statements aside and picked up a different-looking set of sheets. "The arrest report of a one Miles Jameson, a sailor and, by his own admission in front of a dozen witnesses, the very man who brought Packer back to Nantucket!"
The people sitting around the Shark actually gasped, as though they hadn't heard this all before. Packer snorted a suppressed laugh.
The Shark was reading choice excerpts. " 'Arresting officer states Miles Jameson was extremely inebriated and boastful of his actions. Jameson further stated that it was he who originally brought news of Packer back to Nantucket in late June of this year. Jameson became belligerent when arresting officer attempted to enforce quarantine and intoxication statutes, and was forced to defend himself in the arrest...' "
Nara grabbed Packer's arm; he looked away from the Shark and saw that his wife's eyes were filled with fear. "Have they hurt Miles?" she whispered hoarsely.
Packer patted the hand holding his arm. "I think so," he replied sadly and softly. Nara blinked rapidly, taking deep breaths; it appeared that she was close to crying, but was trying desperately to hold it together.I'd suggest that you let yourself cry, if it wouldn't set me off, too, Packer thought. Sorry, Miles.
And as much as Packer wanted to comfort her, he had to focus back on the Shark, who was saying, "...and by Packer's own admission not an hour ago, he wanted to use the message he sent back with Miles Jameson to harm us! And Mr. Jameson, apparently a wholly unethical creature, eagerly played along. My fellow Councilors, this is indisputable evidence of a conspiracy! Of Packer's conspiracy manifesting itself, and at the worst possible moment! So, no! I say he is a charlatan! A fake! And he has spent this entire 'negotiation' telling us lie after lie!
"Consider his claim that there is a glut of women in his tribe's village!" He glared at Packer with contempt. "How can we know this? Can we go visit it and do a headcount for ourselves? 'Not so fast!' Packer says. 'Everyone leaves the village in the winter!' How fucking convenient!"
The Shark smoothed his hair out. "Do not trust this man," he said to the Council. "Listen to what he says! Language classes?! Unsupervised, no doubt, so that he can evangelize to a captive audience! And then!" He choked on laugh. "He wants us to waste our precious resources building a shanty town for a group of cavemen! And all this for a paltry thirty-eight women who may not even exist. Yeah, that's a terrific idea. Sign me right up!"
The Chairman, while listening to all this, finished perusing what was presumably Miles' arrest report. "James, your concerns are...noted. However, you've had your say, and I think it's time to--"
"One more thing, Mister Chairman, and I'll be done," the Shark said, holding up a finger. "We still need to decide--right now--what to do with..." he swung a finger towards Packer, "him. If he allow him to leave here, do you think that, with his machinations exposed, that he will not resort to drastic measures to advance his agenda? And with so many Watchmen still away aboard the Eagle! No, we cannot risk that! We deport him, and we deport Miles Jameson, as well as anyone associated with his operation that we can quickly round up. Tonight."
"And his wife?" the Chairman asked plainly.
The Shark didn't miss a beat. "Why, she can stay, of course! She's an innocent woman. Probably got all mixed up in Packer's web of deceit. Certainly can't blame her for not being smart enough to see that he's bad person."
Nara suddenly shot to her feet, shouting in English, "No! My husband is a good man! You are a bad person! You...you...fucker!" Despite the sudden surge of pride Packer felt in his chest and the urge he had to laugh in the Shark's face, he still prompted her to sit back down and tried his best to soothe her.
The Shark was thrown by this--they apparently all were, as none of them had, so far, heard her speak English, never mind calling someone a 'fucker.' But he recovered swiftly enough with an easy shrug, saying, "Oh well. Guess he fooled you, too. Still, it'd be downright inhumane to send a pregnant woman out into the wilderness, especially with an admittedly incompetent husband, so her outburst notwithstanding...anyway." He put on an easy, chummy smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, Packer says he wants a stable Nantucket. He is, however, chaos incarnate. He's run a conspiracy right under our noses, and he's too dangerous to go free. No, we get rid of him, the Machinists, and Miles Jameson now, before they can ruin everything."
Silence in the room. The Shark, who'd worked up quite a sweat, sat back down. Packer eyed the Council. Some people looked positively furious, others confused, still others concerned. The Shark and his cronies, however, basked.
"Mister Chairman?" Packer spoke up.
"Yes, Mister Packer?" Packer marveled that the Chairman was able to carry on in something resembling a normal tone of voice.
"I want to add another term."
That was it. The Chairman couldn't keep up; he replied with a dumb, "Huh?"
"To my offer, which still stands." He looked at the table. "I'm sure you'll need to discuss this in depth before you reach a decision, so I need to clarify one of my terms, concerning who exactly goes to Cape Cod to build this so-called shanty town. I demand final say in who goes and who stays. The reason being is that I don't want anyone like him," he pointed to the Shark, "anywhere near my tribe."
The Chairman made a note of it. He looked bone tired. "Anything else, Mister Packer?"
"Just one thing. If you do decide to deport me, Nara will insist on coming with me. Additionally, and it pains me to say this, but I've anticipated that James...or someone like him, might spoil my efforts here. As such, I have a Dead Man's contingency in place."
The Chairman looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"
"Relax, Mister Chairman. It has nothing to do with Nantucket." Packer took a deep breath. "I've reached an understanding between the Elders of my tribe and myself. I've instructed them that if I'm not the first man off the boat, so to say, next spring, that my efforts have failed and that bad shit is about to go down.
"They're peaceful people. They will not fight you, of course, but they will run. And trust me, you won't find them. I've told them to go farther afield than they've ever gone before. So, in the end, all you'll have to show for your efforts is a village of bark and hide huts."
Packer sighed. "Of course, this means if you deport me, I will have failed in my efforts. Moreover, I know where my tribe is wintering, and I know that it is possible to relay messages between these small groups. I will tell them that I have failed, and that you are coming with ill intent. And I'll have the warning spread to every group, to every settlement, within a hundred miles. And so, next spring, you'll find that Cape Cod is almost completely empty. In fact, the eastern half of Massachusetts is going to be devoid of human life. We're running west, and we're not stopping until we're on the far side of the Great Lakes.
"Sure, some of us will die along the way. But frankly, death is preferable to having my tribe integrate into a society governed by people like him." He pointed at the Shark again. "They'll be treated like serfs; or worse, as incubators that sometimes say funny words. So, Mister Chairman, Councilors, when you make this decision, consider that. If you kill me, ship me off, or imprison me, you will only be hurting yourselves. Well, in the long run. In the short run, you'll be hurting me, but I think it's case of cutting off your nose to spite your face. I'd hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but my hand was forced, and, in retrospect, I'm glad I've made the plans."
The Shark looked like he was about to start up with a fresh wave of accusations, but Packer beat him to it. "Maybe it's necessary that you hear this. It seems like there are those among you that don't get it. My allegiance is to my tribe. They come first. I'm doing what's best for them. If I fail here, well, okay, so be it. I'll go back to them, and organize the exodus. Congratulations, Massachusetts is all yours. Hope the Eagle's bringing back a few thousand people to settle it. However, I would much rather have us work together, towards the same goal, than cross-purposes. Despite James' bombastic speech back there, I am being genuine, and I am asking you to trust me." He offered a wan smile. "It's all part of the negotiation, and it's on you all to decide how to proceed."
"Mister Packer," The Chairman jumped right in, perhaps to keep the Shark quiet. "You'll have to forgive the skeptics among us. Our last encounter was, after all, over the Charter. I, like many of my colleagues, find it difficult to believe that you've abandoned that entirely."
Packer did a double-take. "Seriously? I mean, that was like, the first thing I said. I've renounced any ties to Nantucket I once had. In my Charter proposal, I explicitly stated that you had to be resident of Nantucket to participate." He sighed. "You know what? You're right. I wouldn't trust me either. Let me say it again: I am no longer a resident of Nantucket, and I am thus ineligible to participate in any internal Nantucket politics. Even if you held a vote tomorrow, it would mean fuck-all to me, because I can't vote! Look, you wouldn't let Nara vote in what is clearly an internal matter, would you? Why would you let me? Because I happen to be white?
"I...hey, you know what? If you want to draw up some kind of document for me to sign, I'll do it. Let's make it all nice and clean and official. Until then, however, I sincerely hope you'll believe me when I say that I've removed myself from your political process. Listen," Packer leaned forward. "I'm sure you all expected me to come in here with the idealism and zealotry you characterized me by, but fuck, I just can't muster it anymore. I have other shit to worry about. Sorry I don't fit into a neat and tidy package, but hey. That's life, right?
"Of course," Packer added, "that doesn't mean I can't hold a private opinion on the matter, and my private opinion remains unchanged from six months ago. You need a founding document. It's as simple as that. Am I gonna go stump for it? Absolutely not. It is an internal matter. Do it however you like, or don't. If someone asks my opinion, though, well, they'll have it."
A pause. Then a cough. Packer turned to the Shark, who was staring off into the middle distance. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, coughing again. "I must be allergic to bullshit."
Packer rolled his eyes. "Real mature, James." He felt his heartbeat speeding up, which was something he didn't necessarily want right now.
"You know, Packer," the Shark said, proffering a glance up at him, "the thing about you is that you say one thing and do another. You say you don't want to mess with our internal politics, yet you were seen associating yesterday with malcontents and seditionists! And there's Miles Jameson, who took a dreadful tumble on his way to jail yesterday, spreading the news of your triumphant return. How the hell else are we supposed to interpret that?
"You know, the more you talk, the more I think you're just feeding us what we want to hear! Yeah, sure, you came back with the blessing of your chieftain to conduct negotiations. Couldn't it just as easily be that you were kicked out of that tribe, too?" The Shark chuckled. "It wouldn't be...inconsistent for you to piss off another set of leaders, after all."
At this, Simon spoke up. "Oh, for the love of...James, there is a simple way to deal with this, though perhaps it wouldn't be obvious to you. Ask his wife." He glanced at Nara, as did the Shark.
And the Shark laughed.
"God, Simon, you're ridiculous, you know that?" Packer watched this with interest. It appeared that the Shark despised someone besides him, and from the look on Simon's face, the feeling was mutual. And when the Shark got going on something, he really was single-minded about it. How did that old vaudeville sketch go? Slowly I turned...step by step...inch by inch...
You know, it would be funny, if he wasn't trying to get us kicked off the island, Packer thought glumly.
The Shark and Simon seemed be rather absorbed in their banter. The Shark was now saying, "Yeah, let's trust the poor woman that Packer's had unlimited access to for the last six months. I'm sure she hasn't been coached in any way, and that she's completely impartial." The Shark folded his arms with a derisive snort.
"She knew enough English to tell you to fuck off," Simon fired back with a smirk. "I don't see why we can't ask her ourselves."
"Oh, I don't know, how about because she's a fucking savage, and--"
Crunch!
Everything stopped.
Packer, standing, with his hand buried in the Sheetrock of the wall behind him, breathed a silent sigh of relief. When he felt his anger overwhelming him, he immediately decided to punch something other than a person. Happily, he'd gone between studs, so his hand wasn't broken. And hey, he felt better.
He exhaled briskly, pulling his fist out of the hole in the wall. He turned with great deliberation; everyone was staring at him, in shock. He pointed at the Shark. "That was a warning. You won't be insulting my wife again."
He sat back down and let Nara look over his hand. She whispered, "You should not have done that. He will say that you're dangerous."
Nara proved prescient, as the next words out of the Shark's mouth was, "You see, ladies and gentlemen? Packer's seemed to have picked up a bit of a temper out on Cape Cod. Or rather, it is his self control and restraint that he lost out there."
"James, you insulted his wife!" the Chairman snapped. "I would say he showed admirable restraint in not leaping over this table and knocking you around."
"Mister Chairman, he may count himself as one of them, but he is here, and he should conduct himself as--"
"James," the Chairman's voice was a growl. "You haven't apologized to Nara."
The Shark stopped, and his face underwent a remarkable transformation. He put on a sheepish, hangdog appearance. "You're right. I've completely forgotten myself. I should lead by example." He faced Nara. "Please accept my sincere apologies. I should not have spoken as I did."
He waited, and Nara simply stared at him. Flatly, without apparent comprehension. Pack suppressed a grin. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Well," the Chairman looked like he needed a stiff drink, "despite how we got there, I think we should proceed." He turned to Nara, looking a bit uncertain. "Nara, could you please tell us why you came here?"
Nara looked around the room. She took a deep breath, and said, "May I read?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I have written what I want to say," she elaborated, pulling the notebook up onto the table from her lap. "It will...tell you what you want to know, I think."
The Council, seen as an entity, was flabbergasted. Packer grinned and leaned back, lacing his fingers together and placing his palms on top of his head. Nara looked to the Chairman, expectantly. Finally, flustered, he said, "Oh, of course, Nara. Please."
Packer glanced at the Shark. He was watching with a kind of detached cynicism, like a skeptic at a psychic reading...but he was paying attention. They all were.
"When my husband told me that we must come to Nantucket for the winter, I was afraid. He has told me stories about you. How you were cruel to him. How you sent him to die. But he also told me how you are alone, away from your families and your tribes, and how you are afraid, too."
Packer watched her with pride. Her brow was furrowed in intense concentration; there would be no shaking her. "He said that he caused problems here, and he feels bad about it. He wants to come back to fix it. I said that we should stay with my family, but he did not want to hurt them with his bad hunting." Packer snickered. Bad hunting, indeed; it was accurate, if a little graceless.
"I was also afraid of the people here. Were they all bad? But when I met them, I knew they were good. My husband has said that you can be cruel, but that you are also good. I am here only one day and I have met many kind people. I understand why my husband says it is important to help the people here. Please, be good to us. He wants to help, and I want to help, too."
She looked up at the Chairman. "That is all I wrote."
"And you wrote that, yes?" the Chairman asked.
"Yes, Chair Man," she replied, eliciting a few chuckles from the Councilors in the back.
He held out his hand. "May I see?"
Wordlessly, Nara pushed the notebook across the table. There was the scraping of chairs as everyone craned to get a good look. "Remarkable!" the Chairman said. "Packer, how long have you been working with her on reading and writing?"
"Three months, give or take a week," Packer replied flippantly. "She's ravenous when it comes to it. I can't teach her fast enough." The Councilors continued to point at it for a few seconds, then--again--the Shark was back.
"Can we get on with this? It's been fascinating, but this doesn't solve our problem." Now a bunch of Councilors were giving him annoyed looks, and Packer had an inward laugh. Slowly I turned...
The Shark said, "We need to keep Packer and Nara out of the way until we can deport them. I propose we keep them here until arrangements can be made."
"Now, wait just a minute, James," came from the other side of the room. It was Gail Underhill. "You don't get to make unilateral decisions like that. Hell, you don't even get to propose them. Nara is a pregnant woman, brought here in good faith by her caring husband. This isn't your domain. This is mine."
The Shark was actually stunned into silence. Gail turned to Nara. "Nara, do you wish to stay here this winter?"
Nara glanced at the Shark, then back at Gail. "Yes. But I must stay with my husband."
"Good enough for me." She placed both palms down on the table and pushed back a little in satisfaction. Then, perhaps because the Chairman was giving her a look: "I'm not going to withhold the protection other women have on this island because she happens to a native, nor am I going to split up a couple who is patently happy together. She stays, and so does he."
The Shark looked positively flummoxed. He attempted a, "But--"
"The matter," Gail said with frosty gravity, "is closed."
The Chairman, who'd been watching this like a tennis line judge, said, "And I'm inclined to agree. For now. They stay and and will not be detained." The Shark looked like he was about to say something, but remained silent. Packer looked back at Gail Underhill with awe. She sat, with arms folded, a stonily satisfied look on her face. The Councilor next to her--Simon, though he looked quite different since the last time Packer'd seen him--whispered something into her ear, then tapped a sheet of paper in front of them both with his pen. She glanced down and cracked a smile.
Her and Simon? Packer wondered. Christ, he's half her age. But...nah! It couldn't be. You're reading too much into this stuff, AP. Still, it was an amusing thought...
"So, Mister Packer," the Chairman said. "If you don't have anything else for us, I believe we can adjourn. It's been a most interesting negotiation, and there is much to discuss."
"Indeed," Packer replied. "Why not take a week to consider my offer? Or, if you can reach a decision sooner, great. I'm nothing but available. Though since someone decided to tear down my house, I'm not quite sure where I'll be staying. We'll manage, though. I like sleeping under the stars."
"Nonsense," Gail Underhill interjected. "Anticipating this, I've already taken care of your housing. Well, I just approved it. Kaley got in touch with me this morning. She pointed out to me that there's plenty of space for you in the house she and her fiancé are living in. I'll get you the directions after we adjourn."
Packer could see the Shark fuming out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his eyes on Gail. "Much obliged, Gail."
"Thank Kaley when you see her," she said with a no-nonsense nod.
"Alright, I don't about everyone else, but I'm starving," the Chairman said. "James, I'm gonna need to speak with you. The rest of you, I thank you kindly for coming. Mister and Missus Packer, thank you both. We'll be in touch. This meeting is adjourned."
