However, we try to avoid any dependence on fueled vehicles or machines. That’s because we know our access to fuel is very limited, so why get used to something that will be gone in the near future?”
“Makes sense to me,” Jones remarked.
Parsons led them into the amphitheater. They moved through a tight, dark tunnel, rounded a corner, and then emerged in the stands of the stadium.
Bleachers surrounded three quarters of the complex, all focused on a large stage. A round, well kempt grassy field occupied the center of everything. On that particular day, a dozen people sat in folding chairs on that lawn, facing the stage.
In its entirety, Evan guessed the stadium could easily hold five hundred people, perhaps more.
A woman stood on the stage and addressed the people in the seats.
“The militia cannot react quickly to all threats! Therefore, it only makes sense that individual households be permitted to keep firearms! This is a reasonable…”
A collection of both boos and applause came from the crowd. The woman continued to state her case in a passionate voice.
Parsons smiled and said, “This is our society at work, Mr. Godfrey.”
“ Evan, please.”
“Evan, here we have a group of citizens debating issues of importance to our community. They are trying to influence opinion on these matters. Eventually they might bring these views to the council’s attention so we can draft a referendum.”
Evan almost drooled as he surmised, “You let the people vote on the laws?”
“Not every law,” Parsons replied. “We have a basic charter that outlines the parameters of how we want to live. Our constitution, if you will. In this case, our charter does not allow for the possession of firearms in individual households. Advocates for a change on this issue can present their case to all those who will listen.”
“Just like the old days,” Evan said. “Change the minds of the people, then try and change the laws. Splendid.”
“Gee Evan,” Dante spoke in nearly a whisper, but loud enough for his comrade to hear. “A political rally. Why look, it’s the National Rifle Association of New Winnabow. Wonder if they employ any lobbyists?”
A woman sitting in the crowd of listeners spotted the group, rose to her feet, and ascended the stairs at a fast trot. Her approach pulled Evan’s attention from the debate.
The woman stopped a step lower than the group and spoke to Parsons. “What is this? More mercenaries? What a brave Emperor, sending his lackeys to do what he couldn’t accomplish. Tell him we will not be intimidated. “
“It seems, Sharon, I am spending far too much time insisting that you calm your voice. We will not be intimidated, but we will also not forget our manners.”
“Father, you are wasting too much of your precious time welcoming guests from this phony Empire. Let Billy Ray turn them away next time. You should be tending to your office.”
Parsons sighed, “Please forgive my daughter. She is full of fire.”
“Yes,” Evan said, staring. “I can see that.”
“But she is also right,” the elder admitted. “I do have responsibilities. Besides, you will wish to address the council no doubt?”
Dante answered because he was not sure Evan heard the question. “Yes, we would. As soon as possible.”
The Chief Councilman turned to his daughter and told her, “You’re right, Sharon. I do have much to do. I also have to gather the council to hear the words of Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Jones. So I’ll tell you what, you give these two gentlemen the tour. Show them what New Winnabow is about. Tell them, Sharon. Tell them about you.”
“Father, I have no intention of-”
“Sharon, we all must contribute in order for our community to survive. In this case, you might be able to help more than you imagine. Tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Jones everything you can about us. Perhaps then they will go away and only return when they desire to join us.”
Sharon groaned.
Robert Parsons smiled, “It is settled then. I will gather the council. Let us plan that meeting for after the dinner hour. That is, if you men can spare the time to eat with us?”
Jones, again, answered for them both, “Yeah, I mean, if you’re going to have some of that bread, count me in.”
Parsons moved off, exiting the arena and leaving the men with his scowling daughter.
Evan smiled and tried to speak, “Well, Sharon-”
“That’s Ms. Parsons, to you.”
“Well, Ms. Parsons,” Evan started. “What can you tell me about New Winnabow?”
Sharon Parsons did not smile or string more than five words together at a time during the first two hours of the tour, despite Evan’s incessant questions.
“Do your farmers have problems with insect infestations?” he asked when shown the large wheat field to the west of town.
“How many cattle do you have?” he wondered when they toured the animal hostels to the southwest of the village.
“Do you have a monetary system?” he inquired after visiting a ‘downtown’ woodshop.
“Sometimes,” “more than one-hundred,” and “no,” came her curt answers.
At some point during the second two hours her disposition improved, a little. That is, her answers stretched longer and came more willingly.
She took them to see a barn full of hand-operated grain grinders, then they visited a weaving room for fabrics, and then a workshop for melting and recycling metals.
With each new sight, Evan grew further impressed with New Winnabow.
As late afternoon gave way to early evening, Sharon introduced the two men to Tory, her six-year-old boy, when she stopped at a babysitting center to get him.
On their way through downtown, Dante and Evan heard the call of mothers and fathers summoning their families for the evening meal and the half-hearted protests of children who wanted “just one more minute” or complained “but it was my turn to hide!”
Alluring aromas drifted from open windows, aromas of meat roasting and stews bubbling. The visitors overheard the sounds of family conversations, gentle laughter, and scolding parents.
Sharon led Dante and Evan to a large building on the edge of The Commons area at the heart of New Winnabow. Robert Parsons occupied the second floor of a wood and brick structure a few doors from the council chambers. Big beautiful windows in the living room, dining room, and kitchen area offered views of the rooftops surrounding their home, the large arena, and the distant sky over a forested horizon.
Robert Parsons sat at the head of the table with his female friend of similar age (his wife died in the Apocalypse) to his left. Sharon and her son Tory, Councilwoman Elizabeth Doss, and Gunther Faust-an older, frail- looking councilman-also welcomed Dante and Evan to dinner.
On the table waited a feast, starting with warm loafs of bread complimented by creamy hand-churned butter, beans, corn, and fresh-caught catfish.
Light came from lamps and candles but some August sun still slipped in the windows.
Robert Parsons explained they usually did not start their meals with prayer or ‘grace,’ but he thought this to be a special occasion and asked Evan Godfrey to do the honors.
Evan cleared his throat, and then spoke as if he had been preparing for this moment for three weeks.
“Let us give thanks to the hands and hearts that toiled so that this table could be blessed with such a rich bounty. May our fellowship here this night be the start of a greater understanding between our people. May we find the peace in our own hearts that we all long to feel. Amen.”
Oh, very good, Evan, Dante thought. Non-denominational, not even a reference to God-and just a hint of sucking up.
“Here, here,” Gunther Faust spoke quickly in a German accent.
The platters of food as well as pitchers of juice and water circumnavigated the table. Plates clinked, glasses
