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Walter Miller's Journal

6/30/2014

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                Walter C. Miller’s Journal

                  Sac City, May 10, 2092

               (In 2014, Sac City is known as
                   Sacramento, California)

            Keeping track of Tessa is a bit daunting, even for me, her father. Bethany and I always gave her free rein, and for most of her life, she stayed pretty much in the range of our own skeptical view of Marsco. Life on Mars afforded us that. And working for Herriff at his Van Braun Center in the gigantic rift valley of the Red Planet, Valles Marineris, a sprawling research complex dug into its cliffs, helped as well. Tessa is now in her early 30s, although physically she’s younger than that due to her hibernation trips. Most space-based Marsco Associates share in that, a protracted life due to icing on space journeys. I’m a good example of that, too. I’m in my 60s, but look like I’m mid-40.

            Now, however, Tessa has her own view of Marsco and of being an associate. Comes with the territory of nurturing an independent, thinking child, I guess.

            Bethany and I raised Tessa on Mars at the VBC from when she was a child until she was 18. We went there because Earth was on the verge of war. We could tell; all the signs were obvious. And we were right.

            Safe at Herriff’s VBC, I researched and Bethany worked on Martian water/ice recovery and reuse. Tessa grew. She was for many years the only child at the Center. Of course, with a war raging on Earth, on or in the orbit around the Moon, out even to some Asteroid Belt colonies, the population at the VBC didn’t increase much. Even in the other colonies, everything flat-lined for the three years of the Continental Wars. When they ended, the Wars that brought Marsco to power, it seemed best to remain in situ and not tempt a return to the Blue Planet. So Red Mars, named for the god of war, became a safe haven for a decade or longer as the atmosphere and politics on Earth settled down. The Blue Planet looked pretty brown from here, seen through a telescope, since its atmosphere was dust-filled, the by-product of war.

            But everything changes after a time. Bethany and I wanted to return to Earth eventually. We knew we were privileged being Marsco Associates, and we also knew Bethany was dying. She wanted to come home and die here on Earth.

            I had planned on returning to my hometown of Sac City, what was once Sacramento, California. (An infamous location during to the Wars.) But Bethany was too weak to take on the task of developing this plot of land, so we stayed in Seattle. By that time, Tessa was a plebe at the Marsco Academy there anyway. We remained as close to each other as possible. Only after Bethany died during Tessa’s first year in the Academy did I venture south to begin salvaging this land that has become my grange.

            That was nine years ago.

            Much can happen in nine years. For one, Tessa’s Marsco career has taken off. She graduated from the Academy and received her commission. She went to MIT, the Marsco Institute of Technology, which is actually the graduate research wing of the Academy. She charged through her course work and research. But before she actually dotted all the “i’s” and crossed all the “t’s” on her final project, her dissertation, she was moved back to the Academy to begin teaching. She’s there now, an officer, but not yet a holder of her doctorate. Pardon me for sounding like an academic, but no one should ever do all her doctoral grunt work, years of research, and not finish!

            But it’s more complicated; she’s more complicated. Makes sense given our complicated Marsco world.

            Once she was so in love with Zot, Anthony “Zot” Grizotti, a fellow Academy cadet, now on his way to Jupiter with his finger disks twitching away on a mysterious, black project for the VBC, my old cadre of engineers and researchers under the auspices of Herriff on Mars.

            I shouldn’t comment on his research, but—against all odds and tradition—Zot had been commissioned an officer after his Academy days then elected to pursue Hibernation Technology. To some, quite a career shift, if not a downright dead-end job for a Marsco officer. Better than Security, I guess, but still, icemen or hibermen aren’t that high up the Marsco pecking order. His clandestine research is tied to hibernation, that I will say.

            I like Zot. I love him like a son. But something happened with them. Tessa can be stubborn. That’s an understatement. And she took up with this pilot who was all smoke and no fire. Zot himself is a solid man, no guessing with him. He came and went here a few times; she refused to visit. Then, he was gone. Trekking to Jupiter, even with the best Marsco and VBC spacecraft (which I helped design), getting there and back safely is a four-year journey with no certainty of success.

            But this is mostly about Tessa. And now, today, she’s in a sort of No Man’s Land: not with Zot, not fully with anyone (not that it matters), and not fully graduated and not fully happy. Fully in Marsco.

             Not fully talking to me, either.

            That another complication in her life—me. Over the past nine years, I have been here, in my grange about 20 clicks south of central Sac City, in a sort of gray zone. And in our Marsco world, such a locale as this one is nearly impossible. Everything is discrete with Marsco, carefully delineated and separated: associate, sid (a denizen of a subsidiary), or PRIM.

            Most of the world is PRIM-listed. I have tried to find exact census data for PRIMS, but I doubt Marsco bothers to count them. I’d have to say probably 80% of the Earth’s population, possibly higher, is PRIMS. (No PRIMS live in space.) There can’t be any more than 5% of the population in Marsco. That leaves about 15% as sids, who have a substantially better life than any PRIM, but who aren’t associates. Their lot can’t be easy. A PRIM’s lot is pretty horrific any way you slice it. And Marsco aims to keep it that way.

            Associates live in Sectors, Marsco Sectors, or protected Cantonments near or in Subsidiaries. Sids obviously inhabit these subsidiaries, which are marginally better areas than PRIM areas: safe, clean, near Marsco hubs. PRIMS live in Unincorporated Zones, guarded by Marsco or their sid henchmen. Used as brutish laborers, kept disenfranchised, uneducated, distant from any self-respecting Associate.  

            And here I live, in this gray area. Technically, part of the large Sac City Subsidiary, but not really. It’s populated by too many Independent Grangers, Indies, who aren’t sids or PRIMS, and except for me, never tied to Marsco. And really, we’re not in a Zone, either, although it can look like it. Here I live, in no place really Marsco, although I live exceedingly well.

            To make it work, I’ve adapted selected space equipment like humidity condensers for ample and consistent water, and like my kitchen appliances that run off solar. And I’ve redeveloped these few acres of land to be productive. I do hire PRIMS to help, but pay them well. I’ve even started a small village for them down the road so they can live better, cleaner, safer than in any Zone. From there, some of my neighbor grangers also hire them, but an Independent granger is pretty suspicious of a PRIM. I’ve worked hard to establish mutual trust. Not as hard as those PRIMS work, but hard enough.

            So, I guess that sums it up. I’m technically on sabbatical from Marsco, but practically, I’m an Independent Granger and yet one with all the fingerdisks of a top lefter within Marsco. And my only child, Tessa, is estranged from me because of my writing.

            I should mention that. Even though trained as an engineer, I’ve only marginally kept active in designing any spaceships these days. I mostly spend my time trying to crack (yes, that kind of crack) to break into Marsco encrypted and secure databanks and old cobweb sites to research and write a factual and accurate history of how Marsco rose to power. The Ascendancy of Marsco. It’s mostly just fragmented data at this point. But, nearly fourteen voices tell their story of the prewar world under the Continental Powers, the draconian rulers of the Earth that Marsco took down.

            That was nearly 25 years ago. At the time of the Armistice, Marsco claimed its new role as world leader was strictly temporary until stability returned.

            Two and a half decades down the road, it looks like one group of draconian rulers has been replaced by another. Marsco seems pretty thoroughly ensconced in the power structures of Earth, the Moon and Mars colonies, even out to the Asteroid Belt colonies, the limit of its reach. Except for Zot heading towards Jupiter, Marsco has contented itself with staying inside, on this side, of the Belt.

            But I digress. Tessa is coming. She’s been sent pieces of The Ascendancy. I doubt she’s read any. It will be wonderful to see her, even if we are tense and combative. She is so like her mother—and me—for that matter. It will be great to have her here. I’ve much to show her.

            And she brings kilos of Seattle coffee, a commodity I have difficulty securing in this locale. 


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History Being Made

6/14/2014

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                        History Being Made:

                                 My part of 



            Southwest Minnesota State University

            I get Harry Potter updates on Facebook, mostly because I do sci-fi and also because I think the Harry Potter books are one of the literary marvels of our lifetime. When the final two books were released, I preordered them for their midnight sales event. One year I was 9th in Marshall (for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince) and for the last one I slipped to 29th (for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows).

            The FB info is often about the making of the films, about the actors, now adults, looking back on the filming and all that excitement.

            Those actors, directors, Rowling herself—they must have known they were making history. I like them all—books and films; they’re masterpieces each.

            What I also think about is that rare gift in life to do something and while doing it, realize you and your actions are changing history. The 70th anniversary of the Normandy invasion just passed on June 6th. On June 5, 1944, as those airmen, sailors, and soldiers geared up for the morning, they knew they were taking part, however small, in something gigantic and fantastic. Something history-making and history-changing.

            I run in a much smaller circle of world events. I’m not likely to ever produce anything nearly as artistically significant as Harry Potter, although The Marsco Saga may be a success. I doubt I’ll ever be in the political or military spotlight like Eisenhower or Bradley or Churchill, or the ordinary (often drafted) soldiers hitting those beaches at Zero Hour on D-Day.

            My place in history will be pretty small, in that regard.

            I am, however, pleased to know I have contributed to Southwest Minnesota State University.

            This university is significant for two main reasons. It produces its growing share of grads who go off to medical school and fine doctoral programs. Two of my students come to mind. One graduated from Mayo Medical and another is beginning her PhD at the University of Notre Dame.

           But the most significant reason for this university is Main Street. We educate Main Street in so many small towns around here: accountants, teachers, bankers, small business owners, and farmers. During the boys’ state basketball tournament this past Spring when only eight teams were left, SMSU had graduated five of the head coaches. That’s what we do; obviously, we do it well.

           The other significant reason for this university is its affordability and accessibility. For what we do, we are a rock-bottom priced service. Unfortunately, over the past twenty years, I’ve seen the State’s commitment to keeping costs low tip away from students and their parents and towards “tax breaks” and other sham give-to-the-rich schemes. When I came here in 1989, the State paid $2 for every $1 a student paid. The whole state of Minnesota bragged about that. Now, the State reluctantly ponies up about $0.67 (and falling) for every student dollar. Figure out the shift here.

           Besides affordability, accessibility is a major reason we’re here; it makes us such a unique and valuable school. We are not the most diverse student body. Even with three Native reservations within an hour in three directions, we don’t attract many Native students. But, we do attract, retain, and graduate many students who need a fully-accessible campus.

           And, it’s been like that longer than I’ve been here. I don’t think I have gone a semester without a student in my class in a wheelchair, who needs special assistance (like a note-taker due to mobility issues), or who needs to take exams and quizzes in a separate location from the classroom (due to learning disabilities needs).

           I’ve even had students who come in their wheelchairs and with a dog to further help them. For one pair, when I took roll, I noted when Zeus, an 80-pound Lab, was present or when the dog was excused from class. One day I stepped too close to his owner and the sleeping Zeus was up and barking ferociously at me.

           These are the students who make SMSU significant. I’ve taken our students to Europe three times through our Global Studies Program, mostly to England and France. And for all the progressive strides these countries have made, they are a generation or more behind us in disability services. Partly, Europe is built around medieval cities, but partly it is cultural. Americans raise their voices at injustice more willingly than many other cultures. Eventually, someone listens.

           I may not be changing history, but I am adding to this university which in turn adds so much to Southwest Minnesota, the state as a whole, and the nation. We’ve even graduated students from Europe, South America, Africa, and Asia, so we’re international in our own small way.

           Our rising costs concern me, however. For one, the Global Studies Program I am so proud of, has risen in cost so that it’s nearly impossible to enroll enough students to make the trip possible. We used to have a subsidy for the trip and most students received a small scholarship to defray costs. But in the end, it became necessary for students to pick up the whole tab for their trip. This decision raised the cost by nearly 35% to 50%; ruinous cost inflation. 9/11 didn’t help, either.

           But the major disaster in higher education in Minnesota was the ill-considered “merger” of the tech and two-year campuses with the seven state universities, which had had their own extremely successful system. “Hostile takeover” comes to mind to describe this, since no one who was part of the universities wanted it or thought this merger was a wise decision.

           This merger has made nothing better in the state universities and often has made many aspects worse. We can’t select what general education classes to allow for transfer anymore; if a MnSCU campus says it meets set standards, we have to accept it. The two-week online Speech class, taught via a two-year campus, comes to mind as a shame, but it counts.

           It’s a sad state of affairs to see something I’ve worked for nearly twenty-five years hit a wall. If orchard growers thought every apple and pear tree should be cut for firewood, not planted, nurtured and prepared for a future harvest, we’d have no fresh fruit. Higher education, especially public higher education, is planting an orchard; its benefits are far in the future, but they are there. Nurture higher ed and in the end the state prospers. The nation prospers.  

           I hope in my final years here at SMSU, I see an upturn in public appreciation and in support for higher ed. Our work is that important. And I have hope. Our new President is sharp and on the ball. I see her leadership at work and her vision for this institution consistent with our history and our mission. All that is good.

           And I have faith. Good things happen when good people put their minds together to create positive solutions. I’m all for that.

           Harry Potter and Eisenhower would agree.

  

Picture
SMSU Pep Band at our last home football game, November 2013. Mustangs won!
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