Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) by L.E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

That’s the beauty of having an Empire. If they don’t like it on New Augusta or elsewhere on Earth, they can outship to a good hundred planets.”
    “And you encourage that migration?”
    “Yes…since we’re being frank. The fewer bodies here, the less strain on the ecology and the lower the population dissatisfaction critical point.”
    “Isn’t that merely a mythical assumption, that population densities and comfort levels really have a bearing on civic harmony?”
    “The original Living Space Riots, the work of your own scholar Vonderjogt, and the experiments of Kliemersol all would indicate otherwise. Practically speaking, no government could ever let the situation deteriorate that far, not and retain any pretense of civil liberty.”
    “Isn’t dealing with such theoretical matters ranging a bit out of your field?”
    “Not really.”
    He dropped the questioning to concentrate on the flamed spicetails.
    “Very good.”
    “You haven’t tasted them before?”
    “No. Our fare is much simpler.”
    “What’s Accord really like? I don’t mean to ask for a travelogue. We’ve seen the standard reference works, the tapes, and the footage from back to the Secession, but what is Accord today? What are your candid impressions of the differences between the Empire and Accord?”
    “I’m not sure I can answer with any great accuracy.”
    “I’ll take an inaccurate impression.” She laughed and her voice relaxed. “You know, you’re very careful. I can’t blame you, but let go a little.”
    “First, then, I’ll say that you can see the sky. It’s a shade greener than yours and our sun is whiter…” Nathaniel turned up his hands. “…but all the comparisons are conjectures. I see your sun through permaglass, and I see mine in my gardens and in the woods. I know everyone in the town where I grew up, and here I don’t see how anyone knows anyone. On Accord, everyone produces something. Even our bureaucrats grow their own vegetables, or write, or compose, or sing…”
    “You make it sound like utopia.”
    “Far from it. We’re a young society. People have to work hard at two or three jobs. It’s only been in the last generation or so that we’ve been able to afford career politicians and bureaucrats. I’m not convinced that change has been good.”
    Marcella frowned.
    “You picture Accord as a young society. Nearly four hundred years ago, which is a long time for a small political and social system like Accord, Accord was advanced enough to foment, direct, and successfully coordinate a multisystem revolution which cost the Empire all chance of immediate expansion into the Rift area. In addition,” she added drily, “roughly fifty systems discovered they would rather not pay levies to the Empire. I’m not sure how you can describe any society that effective as young.”
    Nathaniel shrugged. “What can I say? You asked for my impressions. Compared to the Empire, we’re mere babes.”
    “You still haven’t written much on those blank pages, Nathaniel.”
    “What blank pages?”
    “The ones that compose the open book of your life.”
    The Ecolitan finished off the last spicetail rather than attempt an answer. The lady knew far more than any mere assistant to the Deputy Minister should. The question was why.
    “Is everyone from Accord so reserved?”
    “No.”
    “What’s an Ecolitan?”
    That was one question he definitely didn’t want to answer. It sounded so simple, but trying to give any real answer would create more problems.
    “I really don’t know how to answer that one.”
    “You can’t be serious.” A touch of sharpness crept into her voice.
    “We Ecolitans keep pretty much to ourselves. So it’s hard to make comparisons. Originally, we were a totally separate and unified force which represented the bulk of Accord’s military capability. That is no longer true, although we do keep a number of ships. We are still totally independent of the Coordinate government and don’t