Most Revolutionary - Chapter Seven
The Demands For A Better World Go Viral
Previously: Acting President Alecta O’Roura-Chavez addresses the nation. Sabia confronts President Silver by electronic video link in the bunker. Roca reflects on his family’s history and migration from Mexico and fears for Sabia’s life.
MOST REVOLUTIONARY - A SERIALIZED NOVEL
Through the TV screen in the coal mine bunker, Sabia stares down President Silver who repeatedly jabs and points, throwing her arms and elbows at the image of Sabia. “You, you, you!” says President Silver.
“You act like a caged monster,” says Sabia. “No surprise.”
President Silver goes back and forth between the TV screen and the camera where she can look and gesture directly at Sabia.
“You need to release me, right now!”
Sabia ignores her.
“Abuelo. I'm sorry for the company you must keep. I couldn’t chance coming to the great room to set up the video link. The agents were coming and going 24/7.”
“It’s so good to see you, Mija.”
“How’s my playhouse?”
“Holding up.”
Roca and Silver stand side by side directly in front of the TV, each fixated on the image of Sabia.
Ellen Lin has stopped writing in her notebook at the kitchen table, though has not released her pen. She presses it against the page. “Go ahead, Sabia, say something,” says Lin. “Give me the next chapter of my memoir of a disaster, my diary as a coal mine captive.”
“Sabia, I’ll pardon you if you let us out right now.”
“Who in this dying world would believe you, Silver?”
“Sabia! I’m the President of the United States of America!”
“And I’m the Queen of the great room. Nobody cares.”
“Sabia. Listen!” says Silver. “Think now. It’s for your own good. You panicked. You protected me. Those were Navy missiles that hit my bus. My Navy. You didn’t know who to trust. Even the government. Especially the government! So you kept me safe, in here. We’ll tell everyone. You’ll be a hero. You’ll be celebrated everywhere.”
“So this is your escape plan.”
“Book deals, movie deals, you’ll get anything you want,” adds Lin. “You could go anywhere, meet anyone.”
“It’s not about me.”
“How dare you, Sabia! President Silver is the one person standing between this country and fascism. Don’t be an ass, Sabia!”
Sabia shakes her head. “How quickly you turn, Ellen. Okay. If you want to play it that way, what if we did something really big for the people instead of for ourselves? Instead of for yourself for once, you and Silver. No more throwing scraps and worse to the starving people. Do something massive. A lot of things. Come on, Silver. Ransom yourself for the people.”
“Sabia-” Roca tries to intervene.
“The right-wingers are literally gunning for tyranny!” says Lin. “White supremacist thugs. They’re coming after you, and me. Don’t you get it?”
“Dear Ms. Lin,” says Sabia. “I'm sure you remember Martin Luther King, 'Letter from Birmingham Jail'...” Sabia recites from memory: “'More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.'”
Sabia nods.
Then she says, “The 'appalling silence' and the appalling lack of action, I would add. But maybe you're not 'good people' Silver.”
They all stare at Sabia.
“Sabia, I swear-”
Sabia cuts off President Silver.
“So now’s your chance to write your own letter from jail, Ms. Lin. What have you written so far? Maybe you could title it, 'Letter From Sabia’s Playhouse.'”
Lin releases the pen. She leaves it on the notebook and leans back in the simple wooden chair.
“Sabia, tell us what you want,” says Roca. “And what to do. I’m willing to do it.”
“Abuelo, Gracias.”
“Mija, we must move forward.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I’ll do what you want, Sabia,” says President Silver.
“Of course you will, Kristen. You have no choice. You’ll read my ransom demands. And you’ll make it convincing.”
“Don’t be impossible.”
“Kristen, I’m telling you how it’s going to go. You’re not the President in here. You’re nothing much at all in my house. I'm a bad host to Power, I guess. I may be an even worse guest to Power, but who would have me? So I'm free to be as I please. No constraints, except in doing whatever it takes to create a better day. And maybe I'm not such a bad host, after all. I'm giving you the ever-more fame that you crave, Kristen. So it could be that I'm a good person, a good actor, and a good host too. Despite what you say.”
“You are so far across the line-” says Lin.
“First you’ll express horror at the homegrown terror strike, Silver. You need to condemn this white supremacist terror. You need to make it plain that you and Ms. Lin are the sole survivors, unfortunately. Then you need to make clear that you and Ms. Lin will be released only when all the ransom demands of the American Liberation Alliance are fully met. Period.”
“What in Hell is the American Liberation Alliance?”
“You’re looking at it, Silver-Dust. The People’s Alliance of One plus Many. You need to make clear that if the demands are too slow in being met, more demands will be added. Here they are. Write them down.”
Sabia holds her ransom list up to the camera. President Silver looks at the screen in horror.
“Are we clear?”
“Those aren’t ransom demands! Those are demands for a new government.”
“I’m not playing. You can’t buy me with beads and trinkets, Silver-Scowl. This is my country, my continent, the Peoples’ Place. No Empire. These demands are a tiny fraction of what should be done. Makes me sick to think how little this is, compared to what’s needed and possible. You can’t even comprehend.”
“You’ll get nothing. You child. No administration of mine will take this seriously at all.”
“You lost, Silver-Teeth. Look around. Your administration is trapped in a bunker buried in a coal mine hidden beneath an Iowa prairie home. A long-forgotten poor family’s punch mine, not on any map. I’m not negotiating. These are the demands. Take them. Or die.”
Suddenly all power is lost in the bunker. Complete blackness.
“Roca!” Lin screams. “What’s happening? Roca?”
“She cut the power.”
“She can do that?” says Silver.
“What does it look like.”
“Fucking lunacy,” says Silver.
“With all due respect, President Silver. Will you stop fucking up, please? You’re the hostage here. You can’t dictate to Sabia.”
Lin says, “I guess we could try to play along for a while.”
“Ever the strategist,” says Silver.
“Saved your ass more than once, Kristen.”
“We've got emergency lights,” says Roca. “The switch is in the storeroom. See, this is what happens when you cross mi nieta.”
Suddenly power is fully restored. Sabia reappears on TV.
“I'm telling you,” says Sabia. “You need to make a reading of the demands persuasive, Ms. President, or you will wish you had. You’re on my team now. I’m not on yours. Never was. Never will be.”
Sabia turns off the communications system on her end just as President Silver, angrier than ever, simultaneously powers off the TV and Sabia’s image on her own end. Roca tries to power the TV back on. Silver shoves him. They fight to control the TV. Lin gets up and rushes between them, yelling at them both to stop.
Silver accidentally smashes Lin’s face with her elbow and fist, knocking her hard to the floor where Lin moans, struggles to breathe.
“Oh, shit!” President Silver drops to her knees beside Lin. “I’m sorry, Ellen, I’m sorry.”
Roca turns on the TV but instead of Sabia reappearing, broadcast channels are back.
Silver and Lin hold each other. Roca doesn’t notice at first how badly Lin is hurt.
Considering. In the great room, in front of the computer, Sabia looks at her notes, picks up a pen.
“I’ve asked for what I can. I think. For now.”
On laptop, Sabia watches online a few minutes of news of the terror attack. Debate rages about whom if anyone to arrest for an attempted coup.
Then Sabia again activates the camera in the bunker and is shocked to see Lin’s face beaten up: one eye swelling shut, swollen nose, cut cheek. Roca applies ice.
“Who went crazy?”
Looking up from the floor beside Lin, President Silver shakes a fist at Sabia's image on the TV. “This is what you do to people, Sabia!”
“The President was trying to hit me and hit Ms. Lin instead,” says Roca.
“Collateral damage. Another civilian bites the dust. It’s what a President does,” says Sabia.
“It’s not my fault that I’m trapped in this filthy bunker by a crazy person.”
“That’s my playhouse, Silver-Tongue. This was going to be your big night, your time to shine, your return to world news. A read of the ransom demands. A time to say a few words to your unfortunate spouse. Remember him? I guess it can wait.”
“Do it, Kristen. I’m okay. Read the fucking statement,” says Lin. “It’s bullshit. The more shit she tries to pull, the more she gives herself away.”
President Silver stands and looks again at the list of Sabia's social ransom demands. “Fuck.”
Sabia watches Roca hang sheets hiding everything behind Silver and Lin. Upon Sabia's direction, Roca runs water in the sink to help disguise any telltale background noise. He turns off the other systems – the electric heat and a small vent blower. He unplugs appliances, shuts off lights other than those illuminating Silver and Lin.
After President Silver transcribes the social change demands into a notebook, Sabia gives additional instructions: “You’ll introduce yourself, Silver, and open with the statement noting that there are no other survivors. Then, read the demands. Ellen, we won’t hear from you today. Just stand there and look pathetic. Silver-Fist will try not to bash you again. Finally, Kristen, finish the statement as follows…”
Sabia begins recording President Silver, who introduces herself and Ellen Lin.
Then Silver slogs through a reading of the statement and the demands.
She concludes: “The American Liberation Alliance makes all these demands on behalf of the people of America and beyond. The American Liberation Alliance denounces the Free Sovereign Texas terrorist group as white supremacist lunatics and has never done anything but vigorously oppose them.”
President Silver stops reading and looks directly at the camera.
“Ellen Lin and I, President Silver, will not be released until these demands are met in their entirety.”
The recording is completed in one take. Sabia allows no personal comments by Silver or Lin. She wants to give the media nothing to play but the demands.
“You make a crap hostage, Silver-Breath. But at least you can read.”
“I should not have done that,” says Silver.
“Best thing I ever heard come off your silver tongue. By far. Maybe you can be Presidential after all. What's the Flannery O'Connor line about the mean grandmother in 'A Good Man Is Hard To Find'? 'She would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life'. That's about the size of it.”
“Said 'the Misfit’!” Silver yells. “I know that story. That's what 'the Misfit' said. He was a fucking mass murderer.”
“Then you and the Misfit and all the other Presidents have something in common,” says Sabia.
“You can't say that!” says Silver. “You can't possibly mean that.”
“I just did, and I do,” says Sabia. “The taboo is on you, Silver. Not me. No one cares what I say. But they'll listen to you. You'd better hope.”
Sabia turns off her own image abruptly on the bunker TV.
After school the next day, Sabia takes a data stick with the ransom video and drives her truck to Des Moines, where she buys a cheap tablet with cash. She connects the data stick to the tablet, then parks by a restaurant to access its wifi. She uses Tor browser to upload the ransom video to Wikileaks SecureDrop.
Then Sabia drives to a farmhouse outside Des Moines. She knocks on the door.
Jenna Ryzcek answers, wearing an ankle monitor.
“Sabia! My beauty.”
“Jenna, my Love.”
They hug happily, long and tight. Jenna kisses Sabia on the cheek.
Sabia examines the ankle monitor. “Still shackled.”
“I'm house-sitting.”
“That sucks.”
“Worse to come. I’ll be behind bars in a month. Then a bad 6 years. Some guard will do me wrong, first thing, and you know me, I won't be able to let it slide. I'll go straight to isolation.” Jenna shakes her head knowingly. “But that's next month. Come in, come in. I'm so sorry about Roca.”
They sit on floor, lean against a couch, hold hands by Tarot cards previously spread out on the drab old carpet.
“I won't let you go to isolation, Jenna.”
Jenna shakes her head. “I can't help myself. And they do what they do.”
Sabia gazes at Jenna, kisses her cheek. “No,” she says.
They kiss lips briefly.
“I can hide you, Jenna.”
Jenna smiles sadly.
“I can’t run, Sabia. Not anymore. I need to go to prison then try to get a normal life again. No more blowing up pipelines and bulldozers. Fucking gas and oil. We need to save the world another way.”
“I'll never confess,” says Sabia. “I can't see why you and Jasmine did. I never would.”
“They closed in, Sabia. Reporters, cops. We protected you though. You were so young. I don’t know about Jasmine, how long she can hold off the prosecution, or what deal she's trying to cut. I can't tell you how sorry I am about Roca.”
“Jasmine and I need to talk,” says Sabia. “Especially if she's blaming you for influencing her.”
“Whatever she thinks she’s doing now, she protected you from the cops after burning those bulldozers.”
“Maybe she knew I would burn her ass, if she didn't.”
“Probably she did. But she cares for you, Sabia. You know that.”
Sabia nods. “Maybe we should support Jasmine for fighting this any way she can, even if she sticks the blame on you.”
They consider the predicament for a moment.
“It's a tough thing,” says Jenna. “A lot of bad choices there to be made, I guess. Not many good ones.”
Sabia takes a deep breadth and then exhales at length. She's thinking but not now of Jasmine and not of the Tarot cards before her on the floor which she pushes into different positions with both hands. She looks at Jenna.
“Jenna, Roca’s alive.”
Jenna considers the statement, and then the implications, and then the revelation again. She presses her hands to the carpet. “What?”
“Wait for the big news, bigger news. It won’t be about him.”
“What news? He wasn’t killed? How? He went to the bus. Every report says so.”
Sabia shakes her head. “I might have told a fib.”
“Jesus, Sabia.”
“Some people don't deserve to hear the truth. You know, the Fuckheads who want to investigate me and do things that should not be done.”
“If Roca wasn’t killed-” Jenna looks confused. “Wait. What would be bigger news?”
Sabia shrugs. “Some lives are more equal than others. You know what I mean? In this sorry world.”
Jenna puzzles it through. “Wait. Oh my … God.”
Jenna waves at Sabia as if to push her back.
“No.”
Sabia nods.
“Someone else is alive too,” says Jenna.
Sabia tilts her head to one side.
“The President is alive,” Jenna figures it out. “The fucking President. Silver-Fucker. You gotta be shitting me. Sabia girl!”
“Think what you will.”
“Silver is alive and you know where she is.”
“Maybe somebody does.”
“Fucking Sabia.” Jenna's voice is full of admiration. “You need to be stopped.”
“Nobody stops me.”
And then a horrible thought occurs to Jenna. “You didn’t blow up Ground Force One. You could never-”
“That’s the one thing that wasn’t me. Fucking white supremacists. But then Roca, he got in the way. Like he never does.”
“No, Sabia. What did you do?”
“Roca's fine, Jenna. He's lying low. He came around.”
“You're too much, Sabia.”
“Hey, it wasn't me who torched twenty million dollars worth of gas and oil pipelines, bulldozers, and track loaders like you did. I think I only burned a few million.”
They laugh.
“I almost blew us up that time cutting through the pipeline valve.”
“They fucking turned on the gas. Jasmine saved us. They were trying to kill us.”
“Breaking shit was the only time we got anything stopped,” says Jenna. “For a while. The planet is pissed. It's in serious pain. Dying. All creatures. Dying. At the bloody hands of the profiteers. What else can we do.”
“I’ll come for you, Jenna. You're not going to prison. Be ready. If I don’t get found out first, I'll come for you and we’ll cut this fucking shackle. You’ll disappear with me but we won't run, I promise. I know where we'll be perfectly safe. I know a place, Girl. My abuelo's home has many rooms, some entirely unknown. And I’ll get you pardoned too. Believe it. I know I can do that now. You watch. You watch what I can do now.”
“Sabia, this isn’t some goddamn movie. Sometimes you fight Empire, white Empire – even blonde as snow people like me – and you lose. You die or you go to prison. Or worse. This is Iowa not Hollywood.”
“This is our land, Jenna, the Peoples' land, and this land is what we make it. And we make it what we will.”
“We can't always.”
“Be ready. I’ll come for you. In the middle of the night.”
“I can't, Sabia.”
“You must.”
Sabia takes Jenna’s hands. She pulls Jenna to her face. She kisses her. Sabia is a little rough.
Sabia pushes away. “Wait till I get a hold of Jasmine,” says Sabia. “Then Jasmine will be with us like she never left.”
The ransom video of President Silver explodes across the media – corporate, social, international. Astounded moderators, reporters, and analysts breathlessly talk over looped video of President Silver speaking under duress, stating the demands of the American Liberation Alliance over and over again.
Teary clips of Ellen Lin's brothers, sisters, and elderly parents show relief and love for Ellen, and sorrow for those killed.
Clips of President Silver's husband reading a stern script denounce the attackers and hostage takers and offer love to the President.
Each in their own place, Sabia and Roca, Silver and Lin watch news coverage far into night, and again first thing in morning, 50 feet above and below each other.
President Silver snacks on crackers at the kitchen table with Lin. “I'm the top of the news again for real. Took long enough.”
“This could actually play well for us,” says Lin. “We’re noble victims now. Of course we’re crushing in the primaries, token opposition, and now we're finally catching up in the general election polls. We can use this boost.”
“Nothing to it, right? Get assassinated, or almost, get couped or almost, and get re-elected.”
“It's totally barbaric. And it could work.”
“Except we got kidnapped too.”
“That’s my girl, Sabia,” says Roca, pulling up his chair in front of the TV, as the demands for social change scroll across the bottom of the screen. “She put the writing on the wall, of the whole entire world.”
By now, all the security and investigative personnel have shifted out of the farmhouse to the temporary center built with great haste across the road by the FBI. Sabia is free to move around the Perez family compound.
In the great room of the underground house, she watches the cold light of the TV by the warmth of the rocket stove, and she talks to the screen: “Be ready, Jenna, girl. Where there’s a collective will, there’s a collective way. And you and I are the collective. Only the start.”
Jenna Ryzcek sits alone on an area rug with her mouth half open watching the TV news coverage. “Sabia. Holy shit.”
Jenna watches intently.
“In exchange for Silver, if I gave you up, Sabia, I could get my sentence forgiven and expunged. I’d be free in a day.”
Jenna looks at the ankle monitor.
“But then you would kill me.” Jenna laughs. “So to speak.”
Jenna claps her hands with delight and pumps her fists.
“Sabia. Girl. You go. You little bitch.”
