Before our party goes ashore, we'd like to offer a word of explanation about what you will be seeing whenever we encounter other people. You will not be seeing real-time images. Rather, what we have done is to edit holocam footage we’ve gathered previously, cutting out boring and unnecessary portions and digitally altering all names and faces. In addition, we’ve also enriched the transcripts you are reading by later adding narrative color commentary to the dialogue. In these ways, we hope to provide a more interesting and compelling experience for the viewer.
Of course, in editing videos of our encounters with others, we are limiting and controlling what you see and hear. Inevitably our bias, albeit unconscious, will be distorting these sights and events. All we can do is assure you that we are not consciously distorting what we are showing you. As for unconscious distortion, you will have to be the judge of whether you think that is occurring and sort it out for yourselves, understanding of course that, in doing so, your bias is likely to come into play. So much for veritas, my friends.
Hi, call me Noah.
Early this morning we hove to and anchored in a small hidden cove on the western shore of the lake, just across from the main wharves of New Brandon. Secure in our knowledge that our ship wouldn't be spotted, several of us disembarked on a sailing skiff, which we pull behind our ship for needed trips to shore to buy provisions or simply to visit. We do this, rather than sailing the Veritas into harbors and ports, in order to minimize the likelihood that anyone we interact with on shore will associate us with it. That way, if questioned later, they will be unable to wittingly or unwittingly give the authorities any information that might endanger our family in New Vermont or ourselves.
I’ve taken with me a holopod with its video lens and audio recorder embedded in my eyeglasses, so you’ll be able to see and hear my interactions ashore. Of course, neither the sound nor the visual resolution is as good as that of the large holocam and studio-quality sound recording system we use on-board, but once we’ve edited it and done some digital enhancements, the quality should be quite good, and I’m confident you’ll enjoy the side-trip.
As you can see, we’ve pulled in at a marina of sorts for small boats like our skiff. This makes us quite inconspicuous. We could be just about anyone sailing on the lake, either for pleasure or to do some trading. My sister (Harriet), sister-in-law (Anna), and my son (Marco Polo) each already went separately up into town while I closed up the boat. Each of us had his or her list of provisions to be obtained. By splitting it up in this way, we hope to arouse less suspicion about the nature and length of our planned trip.
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #15
After a short walk from the marina, I am now approaching the main drag of the town. In the granite buildings that stretch for miles either way I look, you can find any and every product or service you might ever need. Check out the store signs I'm videocaming, as I walk down the road: Melvin and Daughters Licensed Architects and Engineers; New Brandon Medical Research Laboratory; Special FX Holographic & VR Studio; Champlain Valley Mental Health Agency--New Brandon Branch; Ramon and Ikuji’s Atelier--Native New Vermont Arts and Crafts; and the New Brandon Municipal Stage Company.
Now, here’s a large operation, occupying four entire buildings: New Brandon Spinning and Weaving Workshop. And here’s one of my personal favorites, although I don’t have the time to drop in today: Springfield Tool and Dye, New Brandon Division. And just up this side street, you should be able to make out the New Brandon School; it’s the one with the New Vermont flag flying outside.
It’s time for me to make my pick-up of food stuffs at the Champlain Valley Co-operative. We like to call it “the coop” because it’s not really a co-op; it’s owned by the New Vermont Stake of the Church of the Latter day Saints, i.e. the Mormons, which wields a lot of power in New Vermont these days.
You may not know it, but Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormons was born in Sharon, Vermont and there is still a monument to him in nearby South Royalton, now a remote outpost in central New Vermont. Even though it's quite hard to get there in these days, this monument serves as a focal point for Mormons who now live east of the Mississippi, all of whom try to make at least one pilgrimage there in the course of their lives. They do this , I've been told, because ever since the Great Change, they have been forever cut off from Salt Lake City, Utah, the former center of their religion. Of course during the petroleum panics that marked the beginning of the Great Change, many Mormons fled Vermont in an attempt to reach Utah. But from what we hear, not too many of them actually made it out there. What happened to them is the subject of lots of speculation by us non-Mormons and claims by their brethren who remained. Some say that many of these Mormon pilgrims perished along the way, victims of gasoline gangs, car-jackers, and kidnappers. Others say they got caught up in the Indigenous American Uprisings of 2019 on the Great Plains, but I don't think that likely since the petroleum panics took place later than that, around 2022. According to others, most of them were refused entry to various states along their route and ended up re-settling in areas along the west bank of the Mississippi River, which had been abandoned when flooding wiped out many cities and towns along that mighty river. Nobody really knows what happened to them, as information about that period in American history has been so heavily censored by the Authorities that it's impossible to know the truth about it.
Sorry about the digression. That's just my nature I guess. In any case, the Coop is just up this side street. You probably can’t tell, but the store we’re entering right now is really just a small part of the Coop that fills this entire three-story building and then two more like it. What goes on in the rest of this space is primarily food preserving and canning, the results of which is exactly what I’ve come to pick up.
Now, here’s a large operation, occupying four entire buildings: New Brandon Spinning and Weaving Workshop. And here’s one of my personal favorites, although I don’t have the time to drop in today: Springfield Tool and Dye, New Brandon Division. And just up this side street, you should be able to make out the New Brandon School; it’s the one with the New Vermont flag flying outside.
It’s time for me to make my pick-up of food stuffs at the Champlain Valley Co-operative. We like to call it “the coop” because it’s not really a co-op; it’s owned by the New Vermont Stake of the Church of the Latter day Saints, i.e. the Mormons, which wields a lot of power in New Vermont these days.
You may not know it, but Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormons was born in Sharon, Vermont and there is still a monument to him in nearby South Royalton, now a remote outpost in central New Vermont. Even though it's quite hard to get there in these days, this monument serves as a focal point for Mormons who now live east of the Mississippi, all of whom try to make at least one pilgrimage there in the course of their lives. They do this , I've been told, because ever since the Great Change, they have been forever cut off from Salt Lake City, Utah, the former center of their religion. Of course during the petroleum panics that marked the beginning of the Great Change, many Mormons fled Vermont in an attempt to reach Utah. But from what we hear, not too many of them actually made it out there. What happened to them is the subject of lots of speculation by us non-Mormons and claims by their brethren who remained. Some say that many of these Mormon pilgrims perished along the way, victims of gasoline gangs, car-jackers, and kidnappers. Others say they got caught up in the Indigenous American Uprisings of 2019 on the Great Plains, but I don't think that likely since the petroleum panics took place later than that, around 2022. According to others, most of them were refused entry to various states along their route and ended up re-settling in areas along the west bank of the Mississippi River, which had been abandoned when flooding wiped out many cities and towns along that mighty river. Nobody really knows what happened to them, as information about that period in American history has been so heavily censored by the Authorities that it's impossible to know the truth about it.
Sorry about the digression. That's just my nature I guess. In any case, the Coop is just up this side street. You probably can’t tell, but the store we’re entering right now is really just a small part of the Coop that fills this entire three-story building and then two more like it. What goes on in the rest of this space is primarily food preserving and canning, the results of which is exactly what I’ve come to pick up.
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #16
For security reasons, the following segment and all other italicized passages in the transcript of this holog were excised for security reasons by the crew of the Veritas from their original holocoms in 2078. They were restored some 25 years later when the voyages of the Veritas no longer needed to be kept secret due to the significant changes that took place in world government in 2102.
As I entered the Coop, I spotted a clerk, neatly dressed in the white starched uniform of the Coop Society. He looked kind of bored and sleepy, as though this might be the end of his shift. He was just the sort I was looking for, someone who’d be unlikely to take note of the large size of our order and start asking nosy questions.
I took in a nervous breath and then managed to sound normal, or so I thought, as I stated my reason for being there. “Hi, I’m here to pick up the order we holocommed in last week. The name’s Noah Adams.”
My ostensibly sleepy young man replied a little too alertly for my taste, “Yes sir, I’ll go see if it’s ready out back.”
As he left, my fears begin to play with me, my stomach sort of leapt up into my throat and the hair on my arm stood up on end. My thoughts were full of disastrous scenarios. Was it possible we’d be stopped before we even got out of New Vermont? I tried to calm myself by looking around the Coop at all the wares available, as I rehearsed to myself the story I was supposed to tell if questioned,
If you're viewing a holocom, take a look yourself. Is there anything you might want in the way of food that they don’t have here? I doubt it, except of course contraband like beef or processed foods, which I understand they still sell legally in some places in the world. Not in New Vermont, though, not according to the authorities, anyway.
The clerk returned. And damn it if he didn't looked all kinda’ nervous himself. I wondered what was going on.
My worst fears began to emerge, as the clerk stammered, “Uhm, Sir, could you… uhm… come back to the offices? There’s a couple of uhm… questions about your order, apparently.”
As I entered the Coop, I spotted a clerk, neatly dressed in the white starched uniform of the Coop Society. He looked kind of bored and sleepy, as though this might be the end of his shift. He was just the sort I was looking for, someone who’d be unlikely to take note of the large size of our order and start asking nosy questions.
I took in a nervous breath and then managed to sound normal, or so I thought, as I stated my reason for being there. “Hi, I’m here to pick up the order we holocommed in last week. The name’s Noah Adams.”
My ostensibly sleepy young man replied a little too alertly for my taste, “Yes sir, I’ll go see if it’s ready out back.”
As he left, my fears begin to play with me, my stomach sort of leapt up into my throat and the hair on my arm stood up on end. My thoughts were full of disastrous scenarios. Was it possible we’d be stopped before we even got out of New Vermont? I tried to calm myself by looking around the Coop at all the wares available, as I rehearsed to myself the story I was supposed to tell if questioned,
If you're viewing a holocom, take a look yourself. Is there anything you might want in the way of food that they don’t have here? I doubt it, except of course contraband like beef or processed foods, which I understand they still sell legally in some places in the world. Not in New Vermont, though, not according to the authorities, anyway.
The clerk returned. And damn it if he didn't looked all kinda’ nervous himself. I wondered what was going on.
My worst fears began to emerge, as the clerk stammered, “Uhm, Sir, could you… uhm… come back to the offices? There’s a couple of uhm… questions about your order, apparently.”
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #17
For security reasons, the following segment and all other italicized passages in the transcript of this holog were excised for security reasons by the crew of the Veritas from their original holocoms in 2078. They were restored some 25 years later when the voyages of the Veritas no longer needed to be kept secret due to the significant changes that took place in world government in 2102.
The Coop clerk led me back through a maze of offices and workrooms behind the store, my fear and paranoia growing by the minute.
My daymare was interrupted by the clerk, as he opened the door to an office labeled: Manager. “Here we are, Sir. This is our day manager, Ms. Bowles.”
I looked up to see a very attractive young woman, also garbed in the familiar white uniform of the Coop Society. She looked like a nice person, but of course all Mormons are polite and friendly. Maybe my fears were groundless. But, I had to be on my guard. She could have been one of those famous “good cops.”
She smiled and proffered a white-gloved hand, “Glad to meet you.”
Still trying to sound innocent, I replied, “Likewise,” but then before I could catch myself, I added, probably a shade too defensively “What seems to be the problem?”
Her reaction was immediate and alarming. “Oh, no real problem, I don’t guess. Just a couple of questions. Mostly because your order is a little unusual. I mean, the quantities of some of these items are pretty big, so we just kinda’ wanted to ask you some questions.”
Boy, did my heart sink when she said this, especially the way she said it. Obviously, the size of our order had triggered some kind of AI alarm and the authorities had probably cross-checked our name with some file they kept on our family, which could include a record of the various so-called subversive organizations some of us belonged to and, undoubtedly, my grandmother’s life-long reputation as a trouble-maker (i.e. a borderline subversive.).
The Coop clerk led me back through a maze of offices and workrooms behind the store, my fear and paranoia growing by the minute.
My daymare was interrupted by the clerk, as he opened the door to an office labeled: Manager. “Here we are, Sir. This is our day manager, Ms. Bowles.”
I looked up to see a very attractive young woman, also garbed in the familiar white uniform of the Coop Society. She looked like a nice person, but of course all Mormons are polite and friendly. Maybe my fears were groundless. But, I had to be on my guard. She could have been one of those famous “good cops.”
She smiled and proffered a white-gloved hand, “Glad to meet you.”
Still trying to sound innocent, I replied, “Likewise,” but then before I could catch myself, I added, probably a shade too defensively “What seems to be the problem?”
Her reaction was immediate and alarming. “Oh, no real problem, I don’t guess. Just a couple of questions. Mostly because your order is a little unusual. I mean, the quantities of some of these items are pretty big, so we just kinda’ wanted to ask you some questions.”
Boy, did my heart sink when she said this, especially the way she said it. Obviously, the size of our order had triggered some kind of AI alarm and the authorities had probably cross-checked our name with some file they kept on our family, which could include a record of the various so-called subversive organizations some of us belonged to and, undoubtedly, my grandmother’s life-long reputation as a trouble-maker (i.e. a borderline subversive.).
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #18
For security reasons, the following segment and all other italicized passages in the transcript of this holog were excised for security reasons by the crew of the Veritas from their original holocoms in 2078. They were restored some 25 years later when the voyages of the Veritas no longer needed to be kept secret due to the significant changes that took place in world government in 2102.
As the Coop Manager continued speaking, I began to feel somewhat relieved. “I mean, you know, in our attempt to meet customer needs, we just want to be sure that we’ll always have enough of what you need. So, for example, if you’re using some of these items, like---uhm, let’s see, uhm… 50 packages of powdered milk--- to prepare large quantities of something, say pies for resale at a Regional Agricultural Fair, we’d like to know. Uhm… that way we can better predict inventory needs in future, and besides we’d give you a reseller’s discount.”
That sounded reasonable enough, a sort of customer service concern. But, I still had to be careful. I responded with the explanation we had worked out ahead of time for just such a contingency. “Oh, that? Well, as a matter of fact, the reason for the large quantities is that we’re having a big family reunion next week and we’re expecting a couple of hundred clan members from all over New Vermont to come.”
That seemed to go over well with her, or at least, I thought it did from her enthusiastic reaction. “No kidding? That sounds great!” But my heart sank again, when she began to probe further, “ Is that something you do every year? Just so we can project inventory like I said.”
I was not at all reassured by her repetition of inventory concerns. It sounded rehearsed to me. Luckily, we’d anticipated this line of questioning, and I responded as we’d agreed I would, “No, we only do it every five years or so.”
We didn’t want the authorities checking a year from now to see if we were having another reunion, only to find that we were nowhere to be found in New Vermont. As it is, I began to be concerned that they might carry out a holo-surve of our valley community later in the week to see if our alleged reunion was indeed taking place. Since I’d had to use the reunion explanation, we would certainly have to implement our contingency plan— a very public holocom to hundreds of our family members notifying them of the “cancellation” of the supposed family reunion due to my grandmother’s serious illness.
But, apparently the manager was buying my story, or at least she was going to let me go for the time being while the Authorities checked on it, because she said, “Oh…O.K. Well, I see you want us to debit your order from your finance account. No problem. Just look into the charge-cam here. O.K., now, uhm… How were you going to uhm… transport all this stuff? It’s obviously too much for you to carry.”
Relieved that I was going to make it out of the Coop at least, I explained, “Yes. My son, Marco, will be by in a bit to pick it up with a wagon. If you could have it set out on the loading dock, he’ll be able to manage it from there.”
As the Coop Manager continued speaking, I began to feel somewhat relieved. “I mean, you know, in our attempt to meet customer needs, we just want to be sure that we’ll always have enough of what you need. So, for example, if you’re using some of these items, like---uhm, let’s see, uhm… 50 packages of powdered milk--- to prepare large quantities of something, say pies for resale at a Regional Agricultural Fair, we’d like to know. Uhm… that way we can better predict inventory needs in future, and besides we’d give you a reseller’s discount.”
That sounded reasonable enough, a sort of customer service concern. But, I still had to be careful. I responded with the explanation we had worked out ahead of time for just such a contingency. “Oh, that? Well, as a matter of fact, the reason for the large quantities is that we’re having a big family reunion next week and we’re expecting a couple of hundred clan members from all over New Vermont to come.”
That seemed to go over well with her, or at least, I thought it did from her enthusiastic reaction. “No kidding? That sounds great!” But my heart sank again, when she began to probe further, “ Is that something you do every year? Just so we can project inventory like I said.”
I was not at all reassured by her repetition of inventory concerns. It sounded rehearsed to me. Luckily, we’d anticipated this line of questioning, and I responded as we’d agreed I would, “No, we only do it every five years or so.”
We didn’t want the authorities checking a year from now to see if we were having another reunion, only to find that we were nowhere to be found in New Vermont. As it is, I began to be concerned that they might carry out a holo-surve of our valley community later in the week to see if our alleged reunion was indeed taking place. Since I’d had to use the reunion explanation, we would certainly have to implement our contingency plan— a very public holocom to hundreds of our family members notifying them of the “cancellation” of the supposed family reunion due to my grandmother’s serious illness.
But, apparently the manager was buying my story, or at least she was going to let me go for the time being while the Authorities checked on it, because she said, “Oh…O.K. Well, I see you want us to debit your order from your finance account. No problem. Just look into the charge-cam here. O.K., now, uhm… How were you going to uhm… transport all this stuff? It’s obviously too much for you to carry.”
Relieved that I was going to make it out of the Coop at least, I explained, “Yes. My son, Marco, will be by in a bit to pick it up with a wagon. If you could have it set out on the loading dock, he’ll be able to manage it from there.”
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #19
For security reasons, the following segment and all other italicized passages in the transcript of this holog were excised for security reasons by the crew of the Veritas from their original holocoms in 2078. They were restored some 25 years later when the voyages of the Veritas no longer needed to be kept secret due to the significant changes that took place in world government in 2102.
Phew! That was hairy, wasn’t it? I don’t know, but it seemed like the Coop manager was suspicious even after I lied to her about our family reunion.
I knew I had to warn Marco. By then, he’d probably rented the wagon and oxen from the town stable and was headed over to the hardware store to pick up the supplies my sister, Harriet, had picked out and paid for, especially the marine hardware we might need for repairs, which we hadn’t dared order earlier lest the authorities wonder what a valley family needed marine hardware for. Harriet had also needed to buy fairly large quantities of household supplies like tallow and wick thread to make candles. I sure hoped she hadn’t encountered any suspicion, as these items would have been harder to explain than foodstuffs, although we did have a story for these as well. The problem was, what if the authorities compared notes and linked my food purchases with her hardware store purchases? We knew it was going to be a risk to buy the hardware and household supplies, but we had no choice, really. In the quantities that we needed them for our journey, we just didn’t have enough at home and were uncertain if we’d be able to find sufficient supplies along the way.
I walked calmly, or at least tried to make it look as though I was calm, out of the Coop, and immediately holocommed Marco. We were careful about what we said because we knew that holocoms within Brandon were AI- monitored.
“Marco, it’s Dad. The reunion supplies are ready for pick-up. See you soon at the boat.” Mentioning the reunion should have alerted him to be careful and quick about picking up the supplies at the Coop.
“OK, Dad. I’ll do it as soon as I make a stop at the Ice House.” There he was going to pick up four large ice blocks to put in our on-board refrigerator hold.
Meanwhile, my sister’s partner, Anna, using her own family name, would have stopped into the Health Center Dispensary to pick up the pharmaceuticals we figured we’d need on our journey. I hoped she didn’t get questioned too closely about the quantities the way I had at the Coop. Her story, if she were questioned, was supposed to be that she was picking up for a planned trip to an ashram up north in the Algonquin Wilderness, and that, allegedly these supplies were for the ashram members who had neither money nor access to such supplies, (nor holopod). That would be a pretty hard story to check on!
Phew! That was hairy, wasn’t it? I don’t know, but it seemed like the Coop manager was suspicious even after I lied to her about our family reunion.
I knew I had to warn Marco. By then, he’d probably rented the wagon and oxen from the town stable and was headed over to the hardware store to pick up the supplies my sister, Harriet, had picked out and paid for, especially the marine hardware we might need for repairs, which we hadn’t dared order earlier lest the authorities wonder what a valley family needed marine hardware for. Harriet had also needed to buy fairly large quantities of household supplies like tallow and wick thread to make candles. I sure hoped she hadn’t encountered any suspicion, as these items would have been harder to explain than foodstuffs, although we did have a story for these as well. The problem was, what if the authorities compared notes and linked my food purchases with her hardware store purchases? We knew it was going to be a risk to buy the hardware and household supplies, but we had no choice, really. In the quantities that we needed them for our journey, we just didn’t have enough at home and were uncertain if we’d be able to find sufficient supplies along the way.
I walked calmly, or at least tried to make it look as though I was calm, out of the Coop, and immediately holocommed Marco. We were careful about what we said because we knew that holocoms within Brandon were AI- monitored.
“Marco, it’s Dad. The reunion supplies are ready for pick-up. See you soon at the boat.” Mentioning the reunion should have alerted him to be careful and quick about picking up the supplies at the Coop.
“OK, Dad. I’ll do it as soon as I make a stop at the Ice House.” There he was going to pick up four large ice blocks to put in our on-board refrigerator hold.
Meanwhile, my sister’s partner, Anna, using her own family name, would have stopped into the Health Center Dispensary to pick up the pharmaceuticals we figured we’d need on our journey. I hoped she didn’t get questioned too closely about the quantities the way I had at the Coop. Her story, if she were questioned, was supposed to be that she was picking up for a planned trip to an ashram up north in the Algonquin Wilderness, and that, allegedly these supplies were for the ashram members who had neither money nor access to such supplies, (nor holopod). That would be a pretty hard story to check on!
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #20
Well, I’m done making my purchases, but it’ll be ten or fifteen minutes before Marco makes it back to the boat, so meanwhile why don’t we have a look see at what life is like in this prosperous (and politically conservative) lake shore town. It’ll be good cover for me to be seen just strolling, casually around town.
Let’s just turn in here between these two rows of buildings. Notice how many people are here, especially adolescents. As you can see, this open area between the buildings, which runs the entire length of the town, is used primarily for recreation and socializing, as well as for the delivery and pick up of goods by wagon.
(In fact, there’s Marco, driving a rig down toward the hardware store. Cross your fingers!)
As you can see, the rec areas are uncovered; that's because it’s summer. In winter and during periods of protracted rain they can be covered by mechanically retractable roofs, making them usable year around.
Check out the people socializing and playing here! What may be strange to you, if you’ve never before seen a bunch of New Vermonters in a group, is their attire, a fascinating mix of uniform and anti-uniform. New Vermont has long been a land of contradictions, historically populated by a dynamic combination of conservative, native Yankees and non-conformist “back-to-the-landers” who immigrated here over the past one hundred and twenty-five years. This difference, as you can see, is still reflected in the habits, customs, and dress of these two groups.
The native men, both young and old, like those two guys chatting over there, tend to wear the green or blue uniform of the original Vermont farmers (except now they’re entirely made of wool, winter and summer)—light-weight work pants, shirts, and caps in summer; thickly insulated pants, checkered shirts, and caps with earflaps in winter. The “newcomers” or “flatlanders” as they continue to be called by the natives even after a century of living side-by-side with them, wear almost anything that strikes their fancy, but bright colors predominate, as you can see if you look at the group sitting around in a circle over there, listening to a traveling minstrel. As it’s summer, you see that both men and women are wearing shorts, the women covering their breasts with brightly-colored halter tops, the men largely bare-chested or wearing tank-tops, all made of finely woven wool, of course. (You won’t find any cotton or synthetic clothing in these climes any more!) In winter, the flatlanders become a bit more conservative and practical in their dress: the women usually wear long, coarsely woven, full skirts reminiscent of nineteenth century pioneers and the men sport baggy trousers and the same sort of checkered shirts worn by their native neighbors.
Let’s just turn in here between these two rows of buildings. Notice how many people are here, especially adolescents. As you can see, this open area between the buildings, which runs the entire length of the town, is used primarily for recreation and socializing, as well as for the delivery and pick up of goods by wagon.
(In fact, there’s Marco, driving a rig down toward the hardware store. Cross your fingers!)
As you can see, the rec areas are uncovered; that's because it’s summer. In winter and during periods of protracted rain they can be covered by mechanically retractable roofs, making them usable year around.
Check out the people socializing and playing here! What may be strange to you, if you’ve never before seen a bunch of New Vermonters in a group, is their attire, a fascinating mix of uniform and anti-uniform. New Vermont has long been a land of contradictions, historically populated by a dynamic combination of conservative, native Yankees and non-conformist “back-to-the-landers” who immigrated here over the past one hundred and twenty-five years. This difference, as you can see, is still reflected in the habits, customs, and dress of these two groups.
The native men, both young and old, like those two guys chatting over there, tend to wear the green or blue uniform of the original Vermont farmers (except now they’re entirely made of wool, winter and summer)—light-weight work pants, shirts, and caps in summer; thickly insulated pants, checkered shirts, and caps with earflaps in winter. The “newcomers” or “flatlanders” as they continue to be called by the natives even after a century of living side-by-side with them, wear almost anything that strikes their fancy, but bright colors predominate, as you can see if you look at the group sitting around in a circle over there, listening to a traveling minstrel. As it’s summer, you see that both men and women are wearing shorts, the women covering their breasts with brightly-colored halter tops, the men largely bare-chested or wearing tank-tops, all made of finely woven wool, of course. (You won’t find any cotton or synthetic clothing in these climes any more!) In winter, the flatlanders become a bit more conservative and practical in their dress: the women usually wear long, coarsely woven, full skirts reminiscent of nineteenth century pioneers and the men sport baggy trousers and the same sort of checkered shirts worn by their native neighbors.
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #21
One more thing you may have noticed about the way people here are dressed are the blue bandanas some of them are wearing, which identify them as marriageable citizens of New Brandon. Like those young guys over there, wearing them as neckerchiefs; that's how men in their twenties or thirties who somehow have managed to stay single tend to wear their bandanas, In contrast, most of the teeners, like the hacky-sack crew over there, wear their bandanas more dramatically, as hats of sorts, in the manner of nineteenth century pirates or like "do rags" of turn-of-the-century urban street gangs. Slightly older women, especially natives, like that woman who just walked past me (probably in her forties like me), wear theirs modestly, as head-covering shawls or babushkas. And, as you’ve probably noticed, the teener girls, like that attractive bunch gossiping together, are determined not to be outdone by their brazen male counterparts, so they often tie their bandanas on bare arms, or, more alluringly, wear them as halter tops, tied behind their necks and backs.
If you were to visit other towns in the Champlain Valley, you would see similar bandanas, but of different colors. Each town has its own color, meant to make identification of marriageable neighbors easier, as part of a campaign by the regional Health Authorities to discourage inbreeding and encourage inter-community breeding.
In my own family, we have taken steps to prevent inbreeding by sending our pubescent children to live with family members who reside and work in Burlington. These children are allowed to return to live in our valley only if they have found a spouse from the highly heterogeneous population of Burlington or else declare themselves to be homosexual with promises (if a woman) not to bear children unless by genetically monitored artificial insemination.
While you may think that sending away one’s children to live elsewhere is a pretty extreme precaution to take, we feel it's vital to the genetic health of our clan. Still, it's a painful step to take, especially when one of our children remains in Burlington with his or her new spouse. However, those who do stay in Burlington usually keep their emotionally ties to our family and eventually provide homes for the next generation of our pubescent children.
One unintended, but to us welcomed, outcome of this practice of our clan is that over the generations, ours has become an increasingly racially mixed family due to the racial diversity of Burlington. Unlike most of our neighbors in our racially homogeneous white valley, most of the younger generations of our clan have beautiful light brown skin, Afro-Eurasian-Mestizo- features, and dark hair that ranges from straight shiny black to long wavy brown to tightly curled black. Now that's what I call real beauty!
If you were to visit other towns in the Champlain Valley, you would see similar bandanas, but of different colors. Each town has its own color, meant to make identification of marriageable neighbors easier, as part of a campaign by the regional Health Authorities to discourage inbreeding and encourage inter-community breeding.
In my own family, we have taken steps to prevent inbreeding by sending our pubescent children to live with family members who reside and work in Burlington. These children are allowed to return to live in our valley only if they have found a spouse from the highly heterogeneous population of Burlington or else declare themselves to be homosexual with promises (if a woman) not to bear children unless by genetically monitored artificial insemination.
While you may think that sending away one’s children to live elsewhere is a pretty extreme precaution to take, we feel it's vital to the genetic health of our clan. Still, it's a painful step to take, especially when one of our children remains in Burlington with his or her new spouse. However, those who do stay in Burlington usually keep their emotionally ties to our family and eventually provide homes for the next generation of our pubescent children.
One unintended, but to us welcomed, outcome of this practice of our clan is that over the generations, ours has become an increasingly racially mixed family due to the racial diversity of Burlington. Unlike most of our neighbors in our racially homogeneous white valley, most of the younger generations of our clan have beautiful light brown skin, Afro-Eurasian-Mestizo- features, and dark hair that ranges from straight shiny black to long wavy brown to tightly curled black. Now that's what I call real beauty!
Ship's Holog: June 2078, fragment #22
Oops! Just checked the time on my holopod; it’s time to head back to the boat. As we do so, however, I’d like you to notice the architecture of the town. I’m not sure my grandmother mentioned it, but I’m a builder/architect back in our valley, and as a result, I’m always interested in the architecture of places I visit, even these shore towns with their apparently monotonous rows of buildings, made entirely of granite. I actually find them fascinating. I know you’ve probably seen holograms of buildings like these before, but I doubt you knew they're actually based on the architecture of the Shakers, a religious sect of celibates that has had a strong rebirth in New Vermont after having almost died out in the late 20th century.
Take these buildings, for example. They’re pretty amazing. The thick granite exteriors provide superior natural insulation, keeping the buildings cool in summer and warm in winter. This original Shaker design turned out to be a perfect solution for New Vermont when the fossil fuel shortage led governments to outlaw the manufacture of synthetic insulation for all but critical needs, such as in refrigerator ships or buildings located in extremely hot and cold climates without access to natural insulating materials like granite.
You wouldn’t have been able to see the roofs of the buildings from where I was standing at the time, so later we pasted in a zoom shot of them taken from our ship.
The roofs of these buildings are an architectural feature adopted from turn-of-the-century pioneering ecotects in Europe and Japan who designed "green" roof-tops as a way to cool down Tokyo—known as “Heat City” in those days. Instead of the steep slate roofs characteristic of earlier Shaker buildings, the roofs of these lakeside buildings are flat and topped by extensive roof gardens. In summer these gardens are open to the weather and in winter they are protected by thermo-screen roofs, which instantly melt snowfall, turning it to water for their winter roof-top crops: herbs, spices, and salad crops, including carrots, radishes, onions, even lettuce. These roof-top gardens weigh surprisingly little, as plants are grown hydroponically in a slurry of water and ultra-lite pellets made from recycled plastics dug up from old land fills and ground up into small particles.
All right, enough architecture for now! I'm just about back to the marina. Thank goodness! Here's Marco, Harriet, and Anna. “Everything go O.K., folks?”
“Yes, without a hitch,” Anna replied, probably wondering at the concern in my voice.
“No problem,” Marco said, obviously trying to reassure me.
“Why, did you have a problem?” Harriet asked.
"Well, might have. I'll explain when we got back to the ship. I want Mira and the rest of the family to know what happened and what we might expect as we go up the lake. Let's get the skiff loaded. I'd like to get out of town as quickly as we can."
My nerves were clearly on edge and now their's were too. We all worked quickly and silently, loading our extensive supplies aboard, and set off back to our boat in silence.
Take these buildings, for example. They’re pretty amazing. The thick granite exteriors provide superior natural insulation, keeping the buildings cool in summer and warm in winter. This original Shaker design turned out to be a perfect solution for New Vermont when the fossil fuel shortage led governments to outlaw the manufacture of synthetic insulation for all but critical needs, such as in refrigerator ships or buildings located in extremely hot and cold climates without access to natural insulating materials like granite.
You wouldn’t have been able to see the roofs of the buildings from where I was standing at the time, so later we pasted in a zoom shot of them taken from our ship.
The roofs of these buildings are an architectural feature adopted from turn-of-the-century pioneering ecotects in Europe and Japan who designed "green" roof-tops as a way to cool down Tokyo—known as “Heat City” in those days. Instead of the steep slate roofs characteristic of earlier Shaker buildings, the roofs of these lakeside buildings are flat and topped by extensive roof gardens. In summer these gardens are open to the weather and in winter they are protected by thermo-screen roofs, which instantly melt snowfall, turning it to water for their winter roof-top crops: herbs, spices, and salad crops, including carrots, radishes, onions, even lettuce. These roof-top gardens weigh surprisingly little, as plants are grown hydroponically in a slurry of water and ultra-lite pellets made from recycled plastics dug up from old land fills and ground up into small particles.
All right, enough architecture for now! I'm just about back to the marina. Thank goodness! Here's Marco, Harriet, and Anna. “Everything go O.K., folks?”
“Yes, without a hitch,” Anna replied, probably wondering at the concern in my voice.
“No problem,” Marco said, obviously trying to reassure me.
“Why, did you have a problem?” Harriet asked.
"Well, might have. I'll explain when we got back to the ship. I want Mira and the rest of the family to know what happened and what we might expect as we go up the lake. Let's get the skiff loaded. I'd like to get out of town as quickly as we can."
My nerves were clearly on edge and now their's were too. We all worked quickly and silently, loading our extensive supplies aboard, and set off back to our boat in silence.
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