A Town Called Freedom

"Everyone, please take your seats," Chloe Sawyer said in her most calming voice. She then repeated herself with what she called her middle school voice. It was loud, shrill, and always got the result she was looking for. The class of ten children scrambled back to their seats. They sat there quietly waiting for what Chloe was going to say next.

"Thank you," she said. "You know what time it is. It's after lunch. We're going to do history."

A groan came from across the room. It wasn’t because the kids hated history class, it was because they hated hearing the same history over and over again since kindergarten.

Chloe was tired of teaching it as well. Not much has happened in Freedom over the past twelve years. It became difficult each year, as the kids grew older, to find new ways to keep them interested in the same old stories.

"Miss Sawyer," Bobby Wagner had his hand up in the air. One of the poorer families in Freedom, the Wagner’s had been struggling to fit in since arriving six years ago. Because they weren’t original residents and didn’t have a lot of money, the Wagner’s were looked down on by the rest of Freedom. There was a hierarchy in town.

"Yes, Bobby," Chloe responded.

"How come Freedom ain't getting no bigger?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Miss Sawyer." They called her Miss even though she had been married for over twenty years to her husband, Isaac. One of the town senators as well as the owner and operator of Sawyer Media, the only source of news in town, Isaac was one of the most powerful people in Freedom. The kids didn't really know who he was, though he had written all their history textbooks. Their parents, on the other hand, relied on Isaac for the rest of their unbiased information.

"When we moved here," Bobby continued, "we were told that this town was going to be a big city by now. Well, it isn't any different. Where is everyone?"

"Big cities aren’t what Freedom is about,” she answered. “That isn’t the kind of living the people here want. We are a community of right-minded individuals. And, it takes time to build a community. They don’t happen overnight.”

"It ain't been overnight," Bobby interrupted. "We've been here, like, six years."

"Okay, Bobby," Chloe said before looking over her shoulder at the small black plastic bulb on the wall. Inside was a camera that recorded everything in the room. "Why don’t we get back to history? They say the answers to the future lay in the past. Maybe the answer to your question is right here in the history of Freedom."

Chloe had designed all the curriculum based on what the town senate and president had approved. Despite all that and her husband being a senator, they still watched her. They wanted to make sure she stayed on task and did not attempt to indoctrinate the kids in anything deemed “woke.” It was a general term to mean anything someone in town might object to, and they object to everything.

The class was always under surveillance. According to the town constitution, parents had the right to question every aspect of how Chloe did her job. Most of them didn’t care about the curriculum. Rather they objected more to their children facing discipline, or getting poor grades. All their kids were brilliant and well behaved, despite what the camera had captured.

Based on various charges, Chloe had been brought before the town senate twelve times. She won each time.

Bobby was fuming in his seat. Chloe had seen this so often before. She had to find a way to calm him down or it would be trial number thirteen.

"Alright," he said. "Then tell me why this ain't this town growing?"

"Well,” Chloe started, “like I said, we’re gonna talk about that."

Emma Michaels raised her hand. Seventeen with the awkward young adult build to match, Emma was one of the smarter students in the class. Chloe recognized it years ago, but did little to promote it. Girls couldn't get too far in Freedom. It broke Chloe's heart to see that the girl would just be stuck as either a housewife, or maybe if lucky, another teacher. That was the best Emma could hope for. Chloe was pulling for her. She would be perfect for the classroom.

"I think what Mrs. Sawyer is saying is that growth has been slow here, but it always is when trying to build something new. Freedom is a pretty new country and town. Not everyone knows about us, but we are going to get bigger."

"Yeah," Wesley Gibson said. His grandfather, Emmett, had founded Freedom. It was figured that one day Wesley was going to run Freedom. In class he acted like he knew that. Chloe didn’t like Wesley, though she would never admit it.

"Only the right people get into Freedom," Wesley said to a few cheers from his fellow male classmates. "That's the way it's always been and always should be. Not everyone deserves to be here. To be honest, I’m not sure you or your family belong here, Bobby."

"We belong here just like everyone else."

"You sure do," Chloe said.

"That's fucking ridiculous," Wesley groaned.

"Wesley," Chloe began to plead with him, but then pulled back. "There isn't anyone in this room who doesn't belong here. Why don't we talk instead about the town constitution and the dual seats of power? Without that great document we don't have a town and we would still be held down by the tyranny of the country outside of Freedom. There's a lot of people who want to see Freedom abolished. Not just the town, but all we stand for. We are a beacon for free expression and liberty. Most people can't deal with that. They want the worst things to happen to us because they are jealous of what we have, more freedom here than anywhere else in the entire world."

Wesley threw his hand into the air.

"Yes, Wesley?"

"It was my grandfather who founded this town."

"I know. We've been talking about Emmett Gibson for as long as we all have been here."

Wesley turned towards Emma. She smiled and blushed.

"I just think," Wesley continued, "that we need to remember that more often. It's a really important part of our history."

"Yes, I agree, it is a very important part of Freedom's history.

"Yeah, but, where's your father at?" Bobby asked.

"What's that?" Wesley was out of his seat. His chair fell to the ground with a crash.

"Your daddy. Where is he? I hear he ran off cause he couldn't handle Freedom and was all about going socialist."

"You can shut your mouth now," Wesley said, his hand forming a fist just inches from Bobby's face.

"That's enough," Chloe said before looking back at the camera. She wanted to make sure whoever was watching could see this wasn't her fault. "Take your seat Wesley."

"I'm not going to sit down for this," Wesley said before taking a deep breath. His eyes never unlocked from Bobby’s. As he exhaled he slammed his fist into the table in front of Bobby. It was an empty thud that hurt his hand more than the table. Wesley walked back to his own seat rubbing his hand.

"The history of Freedom is complicated, isn't it?" Chloe asked the room, hoping the worst was over. "That's the thing with new nations, especially ones built on the principle that we deserve better. Certainly better than the lies and misguided empty promises of where we were before. Let's take a moment then to talk about Emmett Gibson, his founding of this town, and all the history that goes with it."

Chloe walked back to her desk where she turned on her computer. The old desktop, that had been reclaimed and updated before being thrown on her desk, sputtered to life. With a few key presses she had the screen projected on the white board in the front of the room. She started up a slide deck. The students knew it by heart, which was all Chloe and the town of Freedom wanted from them.

The first slide was an image of Emmett Gibson, young and slick sitting near a computer. It was before his first billion, back when he was a young prospector in Silicon Valley.

"Thirteen years ago, Emmett Gibson had been a well-respected businessman in the tech industry in Northern California. Mr. Gibson had done very well for himself making money off the greed of Big Tech. Then he noticed that the First Amendment rights of so many people were being squashed by the huge tech companies wanting to fulfill their liberal agendas. He saw only one side got the right to speak while so many others were left silent. These others have been recognized as who?"

Chloe changed slides to show the picture of Nixon shaking Elvis Presley's hand.

"The silent majority," the class replied in unison.

"That's right. A very important phrase that was coined by a one-time hero, turned villain of the cause later in life, President Richard Nixon. The silent majority was always there. They still are. Waiting in the wings for their chance to jump up and change the country and the world for the better."

Chloe skipped ahead to the next slide which showed a satellite image of Freedom from twelve years ago. Though it hasn't changed much in size since, the image showed the expanse of the Liberty Valley with Route 1776 running through the small town. The farms on the edges can be seen as well.

"Mr. Gibson discovered a dying small town called Wentworth. He came to the remaining citizens with a proposition. They could all leave and sell him the town or stay and sell him the town. Mr. Gibson, like I've said before, was worth billions. The citizens of Wentworth didn't have a lot of money. There was no industry, except for a couple of small farms. The one hundred citizens living there took the payout of $50,000 apiece and moved away. Twelve years ago..."

She stopped here to advance to the next slide. This showed an older Gibson standing in the center of town with a few other people. He was raising an upside-down American flag up the flagpole.

"...this summer Mr. Gibson founded the town of Freedom. Tired of having the American Government stealing from him through their unconstitutional taxation system, Mr. Gibson formally seceded Freedom from the USA and started his own country."

The slide changed again this time showing Gibson and some other early residents, all parents of the kids in the classroom, holding automatic weapons around the flagpole. In front of them was the new flag of Freedom. It was a blue rectangle with seven white stripes running through it. There were words written in a cursive script on the white lines. They read:

Freedom, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty, and justice for ALL. Freedom for all from the cruel and unreasonable use of power, watered with the blood of tyrants. Freedom for ALL.

This was the pledge that all the students made every day to the same flag that was hanging in their classroom.

"Today Freedom is a burgeoning nation state that is growing each day as more people move here to find a release from the oppressive nature of current world governments."

She changed slides again showing an image of the Freedom Day parade marching through downtown.

"Freedom is a place where like-minded people can come together and share in the responsibilities of building a better nation for everyone."

"My grandfather did that," Wesley said. "You all should be grateful."

"We are all grateful to your grandfather, Wesley," Chloe said. "I don't think anyone here has said otherwise."

Wesley leaned back in his chair; arms crossed with a smug look on his face. He expects everyone to genuflect to him, Chloe thought. She shook her head knowing that Bobby had a point that was left unsaid. Wesley's father, the once and future heir to the presidency of Freedom, disappeared three years ago. No one knows where he went, but most, especially Chloe's husband Isaac, considered him an enemy of Freedom. It was no surprise that Wesley had a hard time coming to terms with that. Everyone in town hated Wesley, Sr.