A Civilized People

By Joseph Back

When we woke up that day, I didnt know how it would end. So begins the story of Turengia, a place of which many have heard, and yet few understand. Told by three narrators who hand the story off to one another, this tale of what it means to be A CIVILIZED PEOPLE can move at breakneck speed between calm and war, or between politics and philosophybut be careful! For as you read you may begin to see yourself portrayed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496916204

Joseph Back

Joseph Back is a 29 year old currently in school to earn a degree in Spanish or History. A fan of George Orwell, he initially set out to write a cautionary tale about what happened in Nazi Germany. The story quickly expanded in scope and whether he succeeded or failed in this he leaves up to the reader. He lives in Wisconsin.

Book preview

© 2014 Joseph Back. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse     06/23/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1621-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1620-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: A Dream of Peace

Chapter 2: The Sirens Awake

Chapter 3: A Mortal Wound

Chapter 4: Between the Two States

Chapter 5: Victory to the Nats!

Chapter 6: A New Course Set

Chapter 7: Troubles in Paradise

Chapter 8: A Time to Weep

Chapter 9: Way of the Law

Chapter 10: Waiting to Testify

Chapter 11: The Trial

Chapter 12: Away We Go

Chapter 13: Detention in Place

Chapter 14: The Way Out

Chapter 15: Truly Civilized

Acknowledgements

The tale which you are about to read is a novel of real ideas, set in a fictional setting. While I have been the writer of this tale, it would not have been possible if not for the assistance and help of many friends. First would be my Dad, who assisted by looking over the various drafts and making suggestions, as well as my mom Wyann and step-dad Paul, who helped by putting up some of the financing. Jennifer Tieman drew a beautiful map, while my friend Teresa did the work of polish editing for the book. My friend Danny helped with Spanish, and my friend Mark contributed to map scanning and made suggestions for story improvement. Lastly, the publishing house showed great patience in waiting for the materials and working one-on-one. For that I am grateful. I now hand the story over to its eyewitnesses.

-the Author

Chapter 1: A Dream of Peace

John remembers:

When we woke up that day, I didn’t know how it would end. It seemed the same as any day before. The sun was brightly shining and my wife Kay was already up, cooking breakfast while our three kids got ready for school.

But perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is John Ambrose. In addition to being a husband and the father of three, I worked as a police duty sergeant during the day. The house we lived in was modest by most standards, tucked away into the hills above our town. We led a quiet life, away from all the grit and grind.

When the kids were younger, my wife had stayed home with them, but now that all three of them were school age, she worked part time in a flower shop during the day. I heard the kids go out the door and rolled over to look at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. and time for me to get out of bed. I headed to the bathroom and took a shower. Feeling more awake, I went downstairs to see what I could find to eat.

Kay was ready for work, with her auburn hair neatly in place, but her eyes as they looked up at me were filled with strain. She hid it with her words.

Morning, Sleepy, she said, with a half smile. Your breakfast got cold, but you’re free to try out the porridge, if it doesn’t bother you.

Porridge is fine, I replied. A few seconds later, as she was filling the bowl, I said, You look stressed. What are you doing today?

Kay sighed. Well, I have a meeting with Tonya to deal with the books. Then we’ve got a wedding next week and I’ve still got to meet with the supplier. There are just so many things to do. It’s gonna be tight.

Are we still on tonight? I asked.

She sighed again. That depends on you.

We’re on, I assured her. I meet with the Chief at 9:00 a.m. to go over this last assignment. Then I’ll see if he won’t put me back on regular patrol.

So you’ll be home sometimes? she asked.

I nodded.

Be home for supper, she said.

I will, I replied, and kissed her as she headed out the door.

After eating my breakfast, I went upstairs to get dressed. The clock read 8:00. I opened the drawer to get my club and torch, and then drove to work to start my day. As I pulled out of the driveway, I turned the radio on to hear the weather forecast. I left before the rush hour started, so it wouldn’t take long to get to the center of town.

Mustan was the capitol of Wilson Province, and its streets were laid out in a grid pattern. When the highways had been added at the start of the twentieth century, they had been built, of necessity, on top of this grid. The six lanes they comprised were raised on pillars all throughout town.

I turned into the holding garage and parked my car. The station house was right across the street and, at ten stories, its upper floors commanded a wide view. Outwardly, it was like many of the older buildings in Turengia, made of colonial Victorian tin. Inside, however, the structure had been remodeled to suit present needs. Administrative offices took up the two highest floors, and the jail was underground. In between was where the rest of us spent our days.

I went inside and looked up at the clock. It was only 8:30 a.m. and I wouldn’t have to start work or see the Chief for half an hour. I headed toward the break room, where my friend Bill and I always met before the day. He was waiting there for me, looking over the newspaper.

We sold the F5, he said, as I walked in the door.

We did? I walked over to the soda machine.

The sale had been talked about for some time, but hadn’t been finalized, until now. The F5 was the southernmost ferry route, which ran from Mustan to Cook’s Point. It helped our islands stay in touch.

Bill went on. It’s now under Almortan control.

Almorta formed the island group that sprawled out sideways, to our north and east.

Well, what do they want with it? I asked.

Bill shrugged. They say it’s as collateral for all our debts.

That makes sense, I replied. Outwardly, we were strong, but in actuality, we were close to bankruptcy, so freely did we spend the public purse.

Anything else? I asked.

Just business and sports. Here, take a look.

I took the paper from him and started with the sports page. With a football win over Poitou the night before, we were finally on track to win the National Cup. As I read, the minutes went by, and it came time to go to my meeting. I checked in and then walked down to the Chief’s office. His secretary, Julia, greeted me.

Have a seat, she said, indicating where I should sit. He’ll be with you in a minute.

The minute passed and I was ushered in to see the Chief. He was a gruff, tough-talking old man with silver hair. Rarely did anyone argue with what he commanded. The few who had tried never made that mistake again.

The Chief was at his desk. Take a seat, John. Take a seat, he bellowed.

I did. For the next half hour, I filled him in on my latest assignment. We’d been keeping our eye on a chain of pubs that had been cited twice for sale of alcohol to minors. One more violation would have shut them down, but they had gotten their operation under control.

They got the message when we fined them. The server who was causing the problem got fired. They’re doing well now.

So we don’t have to worry about them anymore? he asked.

I nodded my head in agreement.

Well, he continued, You’ve completed your assignment well. Is there anything else you’d want to do? I know the hours have been tough.

I hadn’t thought it would be this easy. Anything else I wanted to do?! In a nonchalant voice, I said, Well, I was hoping to get back to regular patrol, if I could.

The Chief nodded. No more late nights, he agreed.

Thank you, sir. I shook his hand and walked out the doorway.

After seeing the Chief, I walked to the checkout desk to be given my assignment for the day. A patrolman named Alan was behind the desk.

It’s your lucky day, Sergeant, he said. You get the bike patrol.

I signed out and fetched the bike before pedaling around the corner. In days gone by, the bike cops had patrolled by horse, but the department had long ago switched, as a way to save on vet bills and hay. All told, the beat I was responsible for was about three blocks wide by five blocks long, and there were many distractions along the way.

Only one block away was our state’s capitol building. Even if it had been my day off, I wouldn’t have gone in. The building itself was impressive, a post-modern edifice of metal and glass, but politics, for me, just seemed to be a matter of who was in power. Neither side ever made any difference.

Past the capitol building, just a few more blocks, was a university. All our major cities had one. The teachers were regarded as guardians of truth, to be looked to when one was unsure of the way.

Between the capitol and university was a place to rest, but I continued on my way. It was refreshing to be back on regular patrol. It renewed my connection with the people I helped, and sometimes had to take in. Just then, my radio crackled.

Please take note, the dispatcher said. We have a report of a four-nine-nine at Spring and Fourth. Suspect detained. Request an officer stop by.

I radioed my position and was told to proceed to a supermarket a couple of blocks away. As I walked in to find out the story, one of the clerks directed me to the back of the store, where the manager was waiting for me.

You’re here to arrest the guy? he asked.

I nodded. Show me the way.

The manager led me into the back room, where a man sat on the floor, in the corner. His name was Larry and I knew him from a few past infractions. He was being guarded by an employee.

I took out the handcuffs, only to hear Larry growl, If you’re going to arrest me, you’re going to have to do better than that.

Larry, I said calmly, be reasonable. You’re going to be fine. Let me put the cuffs o—

At that moment, he drew a sharp pen from the desktop and took a lunge at me with animalistic ferocity. I quickly shifted to avoid the point, caught his arm, and twisted it to make him drop the weapon. It clattered to the ground. After the cuffs were on, I turned him over to the patrol car officer who had just arrived, then rode back with them to retrieve my handcuffs. On the way, I read him his rights.

Larry looked away and smirked. Those rights don’t mean much, without the right to food. I haven’t eaten in days, man.

Well, you’ll have plenty to eat now, I said, perhaps a bit harshly. The jail has a good supply of food.

We arrived at the station, Larry was booked, and I retrieved my handcuffs. After finishing a report of what had occurred, I was back on the beat again. The other officer drove me back by the store, and I continued on. Outside of a few ticket violators, the