Jayde Coleridge
fiction
THE ANOMIC
or
Welcome to Patagonia!
We all cheered—everyone—when the Global Partnership Resolution was passed. The whole world finally united. The groundwork laid to bring together the people of every country, every language, every religion. Differences finally put aside for the betterment of all. That was five years ago…today.
“Well, folks…it’s been five years since the Global Partnership Resolution was passed,” Donald Burnett, the CNN news anchor, said—scrolling bars beneath him, above him, and to the right of him; to the left of him, a waving Stars & Stripes graphic above the rippling baby-blue of the United Nations flag.
The Global Partnership Resolution: A United Nations resolution establishing minimum standards of living in every member nation and formalizing the process by which those standards were to be determined, met, and maintained. It was passed with near unanimous support, reflected in the fact that national legislation acknowledging its legitimacy and supporting its goals was eventually adopted in every member nation. The GDP per capita of each country was to thereafter be used to set minimum levels in areas such as health care, education, sanitation, et al., and to determine to what extent each country would either contribute international aid or receive it. A baseline was established including such guarantees as the opportunity to complete eight years of primary schooling in a publicly financed school, free prenatal and pediatric health care, free medical treatment for certain prevalent diseases (e.g., HIV/AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis), sustainable access to safe drinking water and basic sanitation services, a poverty-threshold income comprised of wages and/or unemployment benefits and supported by job-placement programs, et al.
“Everyone cheered,” Bill Martin muttered to himself, as he set down the pen he had been fiddling with for some time—shaking, twirling, twiddling, relentlessly and seemingly uncontrollably. As if it were the pen that was possessed not he, his hand, once empty, assumed the calm air characterizing the rest of his demeanor. Having set the bedeviled felt-tip down on the coffee table, he calmly opened the metal box sitting next to it—which he had gotten out of his bedroom closet almost an hour earlier and had been pretty much staring at ever since. “We all did.”
“Due to what has categorically proven to be the largest voluntary redistribution of wealth in history,” Donald Burnett said, “notwithstanding the naysayers who have called into question the voluntary aspect of the programs involved—we’ve seen progress across the globe on an unprecedented level. Poverty driven back on all fronts, not only abroad, but right here at home as well: the Hunger Relief and Food Stamp Act, the Assistance for Needy Families Expansion Act, the Universal Health Care Act, the Affordable Housing and Community Development Act, the Social Security Revitalization Act…”
Bill Martin was 49 years old, of medium height and medium build, with a bit more weight around the midsection than he would have liked. He was the Senior Legislative Assistant for Senator Hale, the senior United States Senator from the State of Illinois. Senator Hale, the fifth most senior senator in office, was a staunch member of the Democratic Party—as was Bill Martin. Bill had been with Senator Hale from almost the beginning. He started working for him during the latter part of his stint in the Illinois Senate, and he was there when he made the transition to the United States Senate.
Bill had come with Senator Hale to Washington DC, had worked his way to the top assistant position during the senator’s first term, had remained there during his second and third terms, was currently there for his fourth term, and—considering the success of the Global Partnership Resolution and the significant part Senator Hale had played in it, along with the considerable part Bill himself had played in Senator Hale’s significant part—was likely to be with him for his fifth, sixth, seventh, etc., depending on how long Senator Hale wished to remain in office and how long Bill wished to continue working for him.
“It all began twenty years ago when the Global Development Resolution was passed…”
The Global Development Resolution: A resolution passed by the United Nations and eventually reciprocated by national legislation in every developed country in the world, designating them as “benefactor nations,” and putting in place a systematic process for requesting and dispensing aid to address the various issues afflicting the developing world. In exchange for the institution of polices enforcing the dictates enumerated in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in 1948, along with specific stipulations elaborating on these dictates as well as an overall system of governmental transparency to ensure adherence to these dictates, applicant nations, when approved thereafter designated “beneficiary nations,” were provided economic assistance through a variety of treaties and programs. The agreed upon dictates included such rights as a democratically elected government, universal suffrage, freedom of religion, freedom of speech and assembly, a hearing by an impartial tribunal for criminal charges, et al. The resultant treaties and programs included the reduction/elimination of tariffs on imports from beneficiary nations, low-interest/interest-free agricultural and industrial loans, the improvement and expansion of educational, medical, energy, and transportation infrastructures, et al.
No one believed it would work. No one believed it could. Giving the less-developed countries of the world the means to fundamentally improve their circumstances. Replacing narrow-minded nationalism and patriotism with a spirit of global unity and responsibility. Engendering a world-wide paradigm shift. “They literally laughed at us,” Bill sneered. “But who’s laughing now?”
As he pulled an even smaller cardboard box from the small metal box on his coffee table, his thoughts turned to the disappearance of his next-door neighbor Jim. The box was lighter in his hand than expected, but this fact was soon forgotten as his mind was overtaken by the face of Jim’s wife, Hilary. It was the look of uncertain fear that his neighbor of more than 20 years had had on her face when she came over two days earlier that had really stuck with him.
At a little after 6:00 that past Sunday evening, while his wife was out at the store doing their grocery shopping for the week, Bill had heard a knock at the door. Upon answering it, he had found Hilary standing on his doorstep, an uneasy fear in her eyes. She asked if he had seen Jim recently. He hadn’t. He asked her why. She told him that her husband hadn’t been home in three days, he wasn’t answering his cell phone, and she had no idea where he was. Bill asked if she had contacted the police. She hadn’t. She wasn’t sure if she should.
Bill had invited her in, and had then called his wife. She hadn’t seen Jim either. Sitting across from him in his living room, Hilary had then finally made the call. The dispatcher was polite and had let her know how important it was to report such things, but had told her that the Adult Missing Persons Unit was swamped, and had been so for some time, and that unless she had credible reason to believe foul play was involved, there was likely nothing they would be able to do to help her anytime soon.
“In other news,” Donald Burnett said, “the latest statistics from the FBI’s Uniform Crime Report, issued earlier this week, seem to confirm the most recent reports from the UN Crime Trends Survey, placing the United States alongside almost every other benefactor nation on the list of those whose crime rates have continued their slow ascent. After crime rates the world over reached an unprecedented low just over two years ago, which has unquestionably been attributed to the success of the Global Partnership Resolution and the local initiatives in each member nation that accompanied it, what was initially described as a mere anomaly, now appears to have established itself as a widespread trend in the rise in crime. Experts have been unable to pinpoint the exact cause of this increase. However, most are still suggesting it is nothing to worry about, and maintain that it will likely stabilize in the next few months. I’m told they’re now referring to it as a simple post-Partnership fluctuation. And again, we’ve been assured by the President, the Director of the FBI, and the UN Secretary-General that there’s nothing to worry about…”
“Nothing to worry about?” Bill muttered to himself, contemptuously. He knew that this rise in crime was causing much more concern with the higher-ups in Washington than they were letting on. He knew it was not just an innocuous fluctuation, nor was it something that could be dismissed so easily: Nothing to worry about. “If there’s nothing to worry about,” Bill laughed cynically, “then explain to me what the hell happened to Benji Cartwright.”
The Cartwrights lived down the street from Bill and his wife. They had five children, of which Benji was the oldest. He was seventeen years old and a junior in high school. He had been starting quarterback on the varsity football team since his sophomore year and a starting forward on the varsity soccer team since his freshman year. He was a member of the National Honor Society and had never received lower than a B on any report card since the fourth grade. He worked 12 hours a week at the local library and was saving up to buy himself a car, which he had refused to let his parents buy for him.
Three weeks ago, however, something had happened that none had expected. The version going around was that during his fifth-period US history class Benji had gotten up from his desk, suddenly and without provocation. He calmly approached his teacher, Mr. Brackenridge, whom he proceeded to shove into the blackboard, punch in the stomach, and then punch in the face. Benji then left the classroom, left the building, and, as he was leaving the school grounds, set fire to the 250-year-old white oak out front, nicknamed Wild Smokey, for its meandering branches and ashen bark.
Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright were both contacted at work soon after and the two concerned parents then hurried to the school, where they met with the principal, the battered Mr. Brackenridge, and two police officers. After a short interview, the officers suggested they accompany the Cartwrights home, as all agreed it seemed the best place to start looking for Benji. Judy Cartwright, who was a freshman at the school, left with her parents too. She had been pulled from class to see if she could offer any insight into her brother’s aberrant behavior; she had been unable to.
At the Cartwright residence, the Cartwright parents, the eldest Cartwright daughter, and the two officers with them found no obvious evidence to indicate that Benji had returned since leaving for school that morning. However, upon closer inspection, a few oddities were ultimately identified. The first thing they noticed was that Benji’s favorite jacket was missing, which Judy maintained he had not had with him that morning. The second thing they found was that the box Benji kept his “car money” in was empty, which both Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright maintained had had almost 2,000 dollars in it a few days before.
Now, the first discovery was not very telling nor definitive, and the second provided only hints and ample room for speculation. No, it was not until a third find was found that some real light was finally shed on the situation.
After nearly twenty minutes of scouring the house for clues, one of the officers noticed the edge of a folded scrap of paper sticking out from underneath one of the candleholders on the dining room table, a scrap that all three of the Cartwrights maintained had not been there earlier that morning. It was upon this little scrap that a note was written in what was reluctantly confirmed by all three to be Benji’s handwriting. The note said simply this: Going to Patagonia. Below the note was drawn this:
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