Treason


		TREASON: 1 “Excuse me, but where is the Mayor’s office?” Mr. Jones queried of a passing person. “We don’t have a Mayor,” the woman replied. “What do you mean ‘you don’t have a Mayor’? This is a town, isn’t it? I saw a sign that said ‘Bentley’ on my way in.” “That’s right. This is Bentley. But we don’t have a Mayor.” “You are incorporated as a town, aren’t you?” “You mean do we have a license to be a town? Yes.” “A license? You talk very strangely.” “That’s been said before.” “Yes. I’ve heard some pretty strange stories about Bentley and several surrounding towns. But I chose not to believe them. Though I’m beginning to wonder. Who’s in charge of the government in Bentley?” “We have no government. But we do have a Town Hall where meetings take place. I’m walking in that direction if you’d like me to show you where it is. Perhaps going there would make you feel more comfortable.” “I’m driving. Could I give you a lift?” “No thank you. We much prefer to walk. Is that your car?” Jennifer asked. “Yes,” Mr. Jones said noticing for the first time that his was the only car anywhere around. “But where are all your cars?” “We don’t have them. There are electric buses between the towns for those who can’t walk long distances or who for some unexpected reasons need to go faster. But we have no cars.” “Then it’s true,” Mr. Jones said incredulously. “You people really are very strange.” “Drive three blocks in the direction your car is pointed, turn left and go five more blocks. You’ll find the Town Hall three doors down from the corner. It’s the largest building in the block. Have a nice day.” With that Jennifer continued on her walk leaving Mr. Jones with nothing more to say but mumble ‘thank you’. For several moments he stood staring after her watching her walk almost an entire block before he came back inside himself and returned to his car muttering ‘can you beat that?’ several times. He followed her direction to the letter. But the moment he turned left off the two-lane main highway through town he found himself driving on a dirt path barely wide enough for his car to fit. He drove the entire five blocks very hesitantly, worried the entire time about where he would park when he reached the Town Hall since flowering plants abutted the dirt path. He stopped when he spied a significantly larger building than the two and three story houses that so far constituted Bentley. After several minutes of debate with himself he finally decided to trust Jennifer’s assertion that no one had cars in Bentley so he could leave his car exactly where it was—in the middle of the path. But as soon as he opened the car door he suddenly realized they might uses horses and wagons. He spent another few minutes fretting before he finally decided he couldn’t help that, got out and proceeded toward the larger building. As he approached he realized there were no signs on it. It should have said ‘Town Hall’. But it didn’t. In fact he suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen one sign in all of Bentley. This place was beginning to feel very strange. Nonetheless he was a government employee on official business. He had a right to be doing precisely what he was doing. And yet with whom was he going to conduct his business? There were apparently, if one could trust what that woman had implied no officials in Bentley. So with whom was he going to be speaking? Armed with his proper credentials he courageously walked up onto the porch of what must be the Town Hall and knocked on the front door. There was no answer. He knocked twice more each time louder than the last. Yet still no one answered. He tried the door and found it unlocked. He entered carefully now very alert to the possibility of unusual things happening. But once again nothing happened. All of the rooms were empty of people including what was obviously a large meeting room with many chairs. Though the chairs were strange. Instead of being the usual wooden stiff-backs all were comfortably upholstered. He continued exploring the rooms, which took him to the second floor. He found a large room with books lining all its walls. To his enormous relief he found a man reading sitting at a table, once again in a comfortable upholstered chair. “Oh. Excuse me,” Mr. Jones said. “This is the Town Hall, isn’t it? I’m not intruding.” “Hello, sir, not at all. How can I help you?” “Are you…anyone official?” “I can safely say that I’m not. In fact it’s why I moved here so I wouldn’t have to be.” “What do you mean, sir?” “I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in my life story. Can I help you?” “I…I…I was looking for the Mayor,” Mr. Jones was relieved to say. “Though I did run into a woman who said there was none. Of course I didn’t believe her. Though the dirt road did throw me a little. But I’m sure you can direct me to the Mayor.” “I fear that woman was telling you the truth. Though I can tell it disappoints you to hear that. There is no Mayor. Why did you want one?” “Why did I want one?” Mr. Jones retorted incredulously. “So I can conduct some official business with him.” “Why does it have to be official?” The seated man queried. “Why…why…why because I’m an official from the State Government! The Governor wants me to investigate some pretty strange answers to ordinary common everyday statistical questions that everyone is required by law to answer!” “I see. You do have quite a problem.” “Me? But sir, the problem is yours!” “How so?” “Well…there are…I mean you must realize…I…I…I have never run into anything like this before!” “Perhaps you’re trying to tell me gently that there are consequences to not giving the proper answer to certain, obviously to you very important statistical questions. In that case you can relax. You needn’t be concerned about our welfare. I’m sure if absolutely necessary one of us is willing to spend some time in jail.” “What? That’s the most outlandish thing I’ve ever heard! But everybody answers these questions all across the nation! What’s wrong with you that you can’t answer them properly?” “Of course I don’t know what the questions are,” the seated man said. “But it’s probably because we don’t have statistical information. In fact we regard statistics to be rather quaint and old fashioned—archaic I think is the best word, as well as being entirely unreliable. So we simply don’t do it.” “But the law! You must do it!” “This wouldn’t be the first time we found ourselves at odds with the law.” “To whom am I speaking,” Mr. Jones insisted upon knowing. “I’m Browning. And the woman you met was probably Jennifer. She usually takes a long walk in this neighborhood this time every afternoon. Sometimes she even comes up to visit me.” “Mr. Browning. I…” “Just Browning.” “What? But Browning is your last name.” “No. It’s my only name.” “What?” “I apologize for being so strange to you. But I’m afraid I can’t help that.” “What’s your official title?” Mr. Jones asked. “I don’t have one. None of us do.” “But you’re the only person I’ve found in the Town Hall. You’ve got to be somebody official,” Mr. Jones said with an air of desperation. “How does anything important ever get done around here?” “Certainly not by being official,” Browning replied. “Well who is going to agree to take care of this problem?” “Since I seem to be here on the spot when you arrived, I appear to be elected.” “How can you be elected if no one has voted for you?” “Voting is just a popularity context. It has nothing to do with being elected. Election is a function of who one is and how they are disposed to be in life. Since I’ve chosen to answer your questions I guess I’ve assumed responsibility.” “What do you call this strange kind of government?” “We call it ‘spontaneous structure’.” “What’s that?” “Structure, meaning responsibility that appears, and is assumed spontaneously when it is needed. That’s what passes for government here.” “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Mr. Jones impulsively uttered in an attempt to put things in their proper perspective. “Is that all you need today?” Browning asked. “I need you to agree to conform to the law!” “No thank you.” “Well then…what…I never…oh, darn! You must be crazy!” Mr. Jones turned beet red with embarrassment. He’d never addressed anyone in his official capacity in such an accusing manner. “Excuse me, Mr. Brow…uh…uh, Browning. I went a little too far there. But I was only trying to warn you there will be repercussions from this.” “You’ve already warned me.” Mr. Jones hesitated not really knowing what to do next. “Uh…what room is this?” “The library.” “Oh.” With that Mr. Jones turned around and walked out of the building in a daze. He was stunned. He’d never had such a strange otherworldly experience before. When he got to his car he got in and sat there wondering how to get out of this town. He wasn’t even on a proper road. Flustered, confused and a little afraid he finally decided the only way was to back out the same five blocks to the main highway. He’d never tried driving backwards before. It took him almost an hour. Though exhausted and profusely sweating he was enormously relieved to be on the highway again. copyright© 2007, 2008 Don Fenn. All rights reserved.