The More Things Change... by Gee Whillickers

[Gee Whillickers]

Sounds like some vote tampering to me. But Kentucky? Why Kentucky? Is it supposed to be a springboard from which to take Ohio, Indiana and Illinois?

So tell me, where can I sign up to join the New York National Guard and fight the secessionist traitors?

Remember, territory acquisition in any conflict is usually less about politics and more about resources. For the secessionist states to survive, even in the future, they need certain things. Think rare earth metals, natural gas, agriculture in the warmer climate of this future, etc. Kentucky has mining, lots of natural gas (clean energy) and agriculture, adjusted for global warming. Another reader asked, "Why Washington DC?" It has resources of a different kind, but important resources, some of them symbolic, nonetheless. As for vote tampering, well, yeah. :-)

Thanks for all the comments, everyone.

[Chris James]

Good going, GW...Chapter 10 really ramps up the tension. It had to be Alabama, didn't it? To hell with the Queen and her tea, where is Batman when you need him?

[Camy]

Jeffrey is in a pretty unpleasant pickle, and no mistake.

[Lugnutz]

The war wages on.

[Camy]

WOW! Chapter 11 really cranks up the pace! Whatever else I say will probably be spoilerish, so I'll shut up and say good job!

[Chris James]

So much for tea parties! Good job, GW, you have us enthralled.

[Gee Whillickers]

So much for tea parties! Good job, GW, you have us enthralled.

Oh, crap! Did I forget the tea and crumpets scene? That should've been wedged in there in the middle somewhere. Oh well, maybe next chapter. We can't keep the Queen waiting, you know. After all, she'd be, what, 160 years old by then?

[Camy]

“No,” Gee said quietly, looking down at his feet. “No, it wasn't blood samples they wanted. It was more chapters.”

[Camy]

It's Saturday, it's chapter 13, and it's all kicking off!

I like Mr & Mrs Landis - who are just the sort of people you'd want to run into in a situation like that - not that you'd actually want to be in a situation like that, but you know what I mean. If, perchance, you don't know what I mean, then go immediately HERE and read: after all, it makes sense to be forwarned in case the government ever start looking at you askance, with beady, hungry, lascivious eyes....

[Chris James]

Aw, and I was expecting Ninja Turtles to the rescue. But why doesn't Jeffrey look good in a dress?

Kidding aside, a good chapter that moves the story forward and ramps up the excitement another notch. Sweet!

[Camy]

Chapter 14 was a thoroughly exciting romp and a half!

I like the future tech Gee has created - especially the VTOL craft. Were the grey coveralls just for differentiation, or were they body armour, too? The chapter ending was priceless! I wonder what poor Jeffrey, tactless Sam, and a very bemused Dillon will do to sort matters out in chapter 15?

[Chris James]

What a delightful story, and it ended well. How interesting it would be to see the Nation's Capitol overun with angry citizens out to toss the leaders on their ear. I am especially grateful, GW, that you added the postscript about suicide prevention. It is a very real problem, more than a media event, and so preventable.

I am, however, distraught that Jeffrey never had tea with the Queen, but at least you gave them a good dinner. Cheers!

[Gee Whillickers]

Okay, okay. Fine. You guys win. Tea and crumpets.

Without further delay, here it is: The Bonus Chapter: (Don't read unless you've actually finished the story first)

__________________

“You'd better hurry up boys,” said Mom M. “We have a plane to catch.”

I looked at Dillon and he grinned back at me. We'd only been home for two weeks. I was just starting to try and get settled back into some kind of routine. That wasn't easy, since neither of us could go anywhere without being recognized.

We'd only said goodbye to Sam the day before yesterday. He was on his way home. His parents were exactly how I figured they'd be, and the outpouring of emotion when Sam greeted them at the airport had everyone in tears.

The airport was able to ensure we all had some private space for the reunion. Of course, we'd learned that the public doesn't have a lot of patience, so after the teary reunion there was a short public appearance so that the reporters could do their silly human interest story. Then Sam flew home, with all of us making plans and promises for when we'd get together next. Hopefully as soon as next month.

Then, right after Dillon and I had come home from the airport, and only two hours into our homework, the vid call came.

Just before I get to that, I need to say something. Because I can't believe they could be so cruel. My teachers I mean.

You'd think I'd have an excuse. You'd think they'd understand. You'd think, seeing as everyone on the planet seemed to know personal details of my life, they'd know exactly why I was late on my homework and assignments.

But they didn't care! “That's no excuse, Jeffrey,” they all said. “You'll still need your education. Maybe now more than ever.”

Even worse, Mom and Dad M agreed. So, yeah, more homework. Sigh.

Mom M came into my room, where Dillon and I were laboring away. She was grinning.

“What's going on, Mom?” asked Dillon.

She just grinned wider. “I hope you both got all your laundry done. Because you'll have to start packing again. We're going on a little trip.”

I was having the oddest reaction to that little pronouncement. Half excitement and half fear. After my last trip I thought a long extended stay at home was a nice, comfy idea. Say, around a hundred years or so. Still, I was a big excited. And it was hard to ignore Dillon's reaction. He loved travelling.

“We've had an invitation,” Mom M said. “All of us. Due to your work, both of you, not to mention the rest of us, in helping so many people.”

“Invitation to where?” I asked.

Mom M's grin was infectious. “To meet the Queen.”

I looked over at Dillon, and he looked back at me. Our incredulous looks were identical.

Dillon looked at his mom and stood up so fast he knocked his homework pad onto the floor. He ignored it. “Really? The Queen? Like, in London?”

“Yes indeed,” answered Mom M, still grinning. “It seems we've been invited for tea.”

Dillon's grin was now somewhere north of 100%. “And crumpets?! Maybe?”

“Yes, I think crumpets might be involved as well,” said Mom M, laughing.

* * *

Buckingham Palace was amazing. There's really nothing else I can say. All that history, all that artwork. The floors, the ceilings, the furniture.

I took a step backwards during the tour, looking at some artwork, and my foot bumped an ugly old chair, which I then leaned on heavily. It creaked menacingly, as if it was about to break.

“Do be careful, young man,” said our private tour guide. “That chair is 850 years old. And has considerable royal history. It would be a shame for it to be broken now.”

I jumped away in fear. Not daring to go near it again. Dillon just laughed at me.

I can't imagine why it was a big deal though. The old thing looked horribly made, awfully boring, and like it might fall apart at any second. I could tell from our guide's look though that he had other ideas, so I made sure I didn't kick any more furniture.

The room where we sat down for tea wasn't all that special. I mean, sure it was fancy. Fancy doesn't begin to describe it, but it was just a room. The tea service was pretty freak though. I wondered how old it was. I'll bet it had been present for a few interesting conversations over the past few hundred years.

How exactly do you talk to a queen? I was able to stammer out a greeting, barely remembering what we had been told, and then we sat down.

Of course, you don't pour your own tea when you're having tea with the Queen. Nor do you fill your own plate. The service was so prompt that I actually found it a bit annoying. Dillon obviously had no such thoughts. I could tell from his expression that he thought it was just great.

And that's when everything got weird.

I looked down at my plate, and picked up my crumpet for a bite. Then I looked up again.

The Queen was gone.

No big deal, I thought, she's probably awfully busy.

The problem was, when I turned to ask Dillon if he noticed when she had left, he was gone too. For that matter, so was everybody else. Mom and Dad M, the servants, everyone.

Then I noticed the room. I mean, it was almost the same, but the table was bare. And dusty. So was the floor. And the chairs, and pretty much everything else. The air had a stale, dusty smell, like a room that had been cooped up for far too long.

I stared around me, wondering if some kind of a trick was being played on me. I pulled out my vidphone to call Dillon, or my foster parents, but it didn't have a signal.

I was just beginning to feel the first twinges of panic when I heard a noise. Oh good, somebody was here after all. Maybe they could tell me what was going on.

I stood up and walked towards the door, intending to find the source of the noise, leaving dusty footprints behind me. A boy, roughly my age, maybe slightly older, walked into the room.

A very odd looking boy.

I mean, his face wasn't anything special. He was cute, but he was just a boy. It was his clothes that really stood out for me. For a couple of different reasons. First, they were old-fashioned. Like, eighty year old styles. Like, just before I was frozen styles.

Second, they weren't exactly the kind of thing you wore to visit Buckingham Palace. He wore sturdy, heavy looking beige combat boots. Long canvas pants, grey in colour, with the pant legs tucked carefully over the laces of the boots. He had a t-shirt on, plain white, but covering that was some kind of heavy vest with tons of pockets, all of them bulging with god knows what. His arms were bare. In stark contrast to his smooth, youthful face, they looked, well, older. They were more muscular than most kids his age, but that wasn't what I noticed at first. It was the scars. Despite his age, he'd seen more than a few interesting times from the looks of it.

On his hips, he wore a thick, wide black belt. Hanging from the belt, among other things, was a fearsome looking knife. I think that last time I saw a knife like that was in that old movie about the Australian outback guy that goes to the US and scares away the mugger. I mean, it was huge. The other thing on the belt was even more scary.

It was a holstered gun.

I don't mean a stun-gun. Or anything even remotely modern. A real honest-to-god shoots-bullets-with-gunpowder kills-you-with-blood-and-pain type of gun. Again, just like the kind from just before I was frozen.

I think I startled him. I don't think he realized anybody was here.

As soon as he walked into the room, he saw me, and his hand instantly, and believe me, I mean instantly, went to his hip. To the butt of that evil looking firearm.

I almost had a very embarrassing accident.

But, he seemed to realize it was just some scared kid, and he stopped, his hand still on the butt of the pistol, and stared wide-eyed at me. As if I was some kind of a ghost or weird monster or something. As if it were me that looked weird and out of place.

Still staring at me suspiciously, he said, “There's not supposed to be anybody here.”

Okay, how did I answer that? I mean, I was invited. By the Queen. What the hell was he doing here? So that's what I said, “Yes I am. I was invited by the Queen. For tea and crumpets. 'Cause of all those people they think I helped. You know. But, what are you doing here? Who are you?”

He answered, “People you helped? Who are you? What people?”

I noticed his hand still was resting firmly on that gun.

I had a hard time believing he didn't know who I was. I hadn't met anybody that didn't know since we got out of the Protectorate. It was a bit of a relief actually, though I could do without the suspicion. And the hand on the gun. “I'm Jeffrey. Jeffrey Chamberlain. Who are you?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted but yet another boy walking into the room, talking as he did so. “Any luck so far, Craig? I can't find it. I don't think it's here. This was a stupid....” He tailed off upon seeing me. He was dressed very much the same as the other boy, and now his hand, too, was on the butt of a scary looking gun.

Now it was his turn to ask, “Who the hell are you?” His voice wasn't nearly as polite as the other boy's.

The first boy answered for me. “He said his name is Jeffrey." He nodded towards the other boy while looking at me, "He's Joel. I'm Craig. Craig Jamison. Why are you in this Universe? This one is supposed to be empty.”

I sat down heavily in the nearest chair. A puff of dust making me cough slightly. I had absolutely no idea how to answer that question. And neither of their hands looked like they were going to move off those guns until I did.

The End

[dude]

OMG! The More Things Change.... meets The Wish! Beautiful!

[Camy]

The end? THE END???!!! Noooooooooo!!!!

[Chris James]

LMAO...does this mean if we tease GW at the end of every story he will write more? Don't go there, it will keep him from his other stories which we are all waiting to see. A brilliant comeback, GW, but then you own the thoughts that created both stories so I guess you are entitled.

Years ago my father met the Queen at a press reception in the British Embassy in Washington, DC. She gave his hand a single shake and said "How-cha-do." End of report, and there was no tea.

[blue]

I'm somewhere in chapter 6 or 7 and enjoying the story. I like the WTF factor too. Good science fiction elements. For a while there at the start, I began wondering if he'd been uploaded as an AI, but then it went elsewhere, which I liked better. Liking him, liking Dillon a good bit, though he was more intriguing at the start, sneaking in like that.

I'm just a bit past where the initials T.C. have shown up, which I'm sure will figure in later somehow. We've met "old Randy."

Thumbs up, here.

[Guest Dabeagle]

So I finally got to this story, and as usual, I loved it. I loved the pacing, the character development, the sci-fi part and of course the reinforcing of more than a few old adages. Gee's stories are so consistently entertaining that one is tempted to think he wrote them all at once, at some apex, and simply releases them at whim. I only had one complaint, one item for which I made the demand he address. We shall see if he takes care of that for me.

[DKStories]

More Dystopian stories from GeeW, please.

[gwilym.pocock]

Very good read.

You could easily have made it into a trilogy of full size books, there are a lot spaces to expand. You could have ended the first when he was captured, and continued the second with the escape and the taking of that state. The final could be taking of all the states.

I understand the effort you put into this, though. It would be nice for it to be longer, particularly with the rebels at the end, and the character dev at the beginning at high school.

But anyway, well done on this story.

[gwilym.pocock]

Just to be clear, this is now my favourite novel on this website, that I have read, It one of the only ones that caused tears for me. If my only complaint is that it was not long enough, then that is good, right?

The story line is publishable, people would be interested in this (if you removed the move gay scenes, such as cock grabbing, and masturbation.) It could be as large as the hunger games.

I look forward to reading more of your stories.

[Cole Parker]

I look forward to reading more of Gee's stories as well. He needs to get off his motorcycle and back on his word processor!

C

[Merkin]

I love this story, written by a writer so in command of his craft. If having all that power between his legs is what it takes to inspire Gee, I'm all for it.

[gwilym.pocock]

Damn. I have now run out of stories by gee w to read. I have to venture into the unknown now, and find another author...

[Lugnutz]

It's slummimg, but I hear Cole works in a pinch.