Renewal 3 - Your Basic Swiss Family by Jf Perkins Page A
Authors: Jf Perkins
Tags: Science-Fiction
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grandniece. She must not be completely happy with that rich jerk she married - not like she had a choice. The system was almost completely feudal these days. Nobility in all but title, fortress homesteads that were practically castles, serfs who were barely more than slaves, arranged marriages among wealthy families, the whole bit. He was surprised that Jerry Doan Jenkins didn’t yell, “Off with their heads!” during the meeting.
The state government had started from scratch in Murfreesboro, after Nashville burned to the ground in 2012. It took another four years before anything resembling an organized government rose from the ashes. That gave the clever, and usually wealthy, locals plenty of time to set up their own systems, and they continued to work hard to maintain their authority, even 37 years after the United States fell apart. Most county leaders still reigned more or less as they saw fit. The people still suffered under those county systems, and the state had nowhere close to the resources needed to oversee, much less enforce, their rather clueless set of laws.
Dusty mounted his battered bicycle, and Terry mounted his, which was in nice shape after one of the mechanics out at Teeny Town had done some work on it. They left the old mansion that the mayor had claimed for his offices, and pedaled off into the direction of Manchester’s square, which held the county engineering office in a 120-year old building on the east side. The county had once run everything from a consolidated building on the southern outskirts of town, but that building was deemed useless after the power failed. Like lots of buildings from the end of the 20th Century, they were uninhabitable without air conditioning.
Now the old courthouse in the center of the square was the only courthouse, and the jail as well. It was more like a dungeon than a jail, set up in the dripping basement. No one thought it mattered, since there was never any money to house prisoners for long. Trials were quick, and only had two outcomes for convicts: work gangs or death. With Jerry Doan Jenkins at the helm, very few people were acquitted, and those that were tended to have relatives with “gifts” for the Judge. He was known to frame and convict members of the wealthy families to grab land, money, or to enforce his favored arrangements. In that way, he had become the most powerful man in Coffee County.
The engineers wheeled their bikes right into the office and leaned them against the row of file cabinets that separated the lobby from the working spaces. Dusty stepped into his office to check for any messages in his inbox, and came right back.
“Let’s grab some lunch.” Dusty said without stopping.
“Ok,” Terry answered, following Dusty back out the front door.
The north side of the square had turned into a row of quick lunch places and one sit-down diner to serve the county business traffic. The men strode across the pavement, not having to worry about traffic, making a beeline for the far end of the row.”
“Hot dogs ok?” Dusty asked.
“Sure.”
They walked up to the counter, where Dusty ordered, and paid for two pungent smelling sausages in hard rolls, covered in mustard and kraut. He also got two waters in old clear plastic cups. He handed one of each to Terry as they walked over to the picnic tables scattered on the grass around the courthouse.
As soon as they sat down, Dusty said, “You’ve got to ride out and warn Bill. I have to stay in town this afternoon. Tell him it looks like a java situation. He’ll know what that means.”
“What does it mean?” Terry asked through a mouthful of bread and mystery sausage.
“It’s a plan that we’ve had in place, in case the county ever gets in our business. No time to explain it now. Let’s just eat, so you can get going. This time, take Highway 41. It may be a little longer, but it’s faster. The road is in better shape and there are no big hills or cannibals lurking by the
The state government had started from scratch in Murfreesboro, after Nashville burned to the ground in 2012. It took another four years before anything resembling an organized government rose from the ashes. That gave the clever, and usually wealthy, locals plenty of time to set up their own systems, and they continued to work hard to maintain their authority, even 37 years after the United States fell apart. Most county leaders still reigned more or less as they saw fit. The people still suffered under those county systems, and the state had nowhere close to the resources needed to oversee, much less enforce, their rather clueless set of laws.
Dusty mounted his battered bicycle, and Terry mounted his, which was in nice shape after one of the mechanics out at Teeny Town had done some work on it. They left the old mansion that the mayor had claimed for his offices, and pedaled off into the direction of Manchester’s square, which held the county engineering office in a 120-year old building on the east side. The county had once run everything from a consolidated building on the southern outskirts of town, but that building was deemed useless after the power failed. Like lots of buildings from the end of the 20th Century, they were uninhabitable without air conditioning.
Now the old courthouse in the center of the square was the only courthouse, and the jail as well. It was more like a dungeon than a jail, set up in the dripping basement. No one thought it mattered, since there was never any money to house prisoners for long. Trials were quick, and only had two outcomes for convicts: work gangs or death. With Jerry Doan Jenkins at the helm, very few people were acquitted, and those that were tended to have relatives with “gifts” for the Judge. He was known to frame and convict members of the wealthy families to grab land, money, or to enforce his favored arrangements. In that way, he had become the most powerful man in Coffee County.
The engineers wheeled their bikes right into the office and leaned them against the row of file cabinets that separated the lobby from the working spaces. Dusty stepped into his office to check for any messages in his inbox, and came right back.
“Let’s grab some lunch.” Dusty said without stopping.
“Ok,” Terry answered, following Dusty back out the front door.
The north side of the square had turned into a row of quick lunch places and one sit-down diner to serve the county business traffic. The men strode across the pavement, not having to worry about traffic, making a beeline for the far end of the row.”
“Hot dogs ok?” Dusty asked.
“Sure.”
They walked up to the counter, where Dusty ordered, and paid for two pungent smelling sausages in hard rolls, covered in mustard and kraut. He also got two waters in old clear plastic cups. He handed one of each to Terry as they walked over to the picnic tables scattered on the grass around the courthouse.
As soon as they sat down, Dusty said, “You’ve got to ride out and warn Bill. I have to stay in town this afternoon. Tell him it looks like a java situation. He’ll know what that means.”
“What does it mean?” Terry asked through a mouthful of bread and mystery sausage.
“It’s a plan that we’ve had in place, in case the county ever gets in our business. No time to explain it now. Let’s just eat, so you can get going. This time, take Highway 41. It may be a little longer, but it’s faster. The road is in better shape and there are no big hills or cannibals lurking by the