There was a time in American History we would all prefer to forget. The year 2023 brought tragedy in its wake. In that year the popular but radical televangelist, Reverend Alluvius Blankenship, decided the President of the United States was the long-prophesied Anti-Christ, the man who would give the world a few years of peace, then bring in the Tribulation prophesied in the Bible. That was his interpretation anyway . . .
He secretly purchased three nuclear warheads and, as we understand it now, carefully planned for a time when the President would make a political visit to "that den of iniquity," Los Angeles, California. Destroying the "wickedness of Hollywood" was a bonus to him. He swore he dropped the bombs to stop the Anti-Christ and prevent the Tribulation; he claimed he received a message direct from God. But the bomb that hit San Clemente destroyed the San Onofre power plant, irradiating most of California when it blew. There were other side effects as well. Nuclear waste and fallout spilled into the Pacific, and drifted far enough north to contaminate the entire West Coast to Puget Sound.
In spite of all the destruction and mourning he caused, there was no Tribulation, a benefit he claimed credit for to the day of his death. But there was no Rapture either, no Second Coming and none of the other signs his followers anticipated. Instead, the Californians who survived moved far inland and started to rebuild their lives.
The whole incident frightened us terribly, revealing our easily forgotten but latent capability to do harm. Reverend Blankenship was arrested, tried for crimes against humanity and convicted, though he always denied he had done anything wrong.
His close followers disbanded and were never heard from again, but the impact of their actions didn’t disappear with them. The Blankenship incident was the single-most destructive blow to Christianity in its history. It completely crushed the Evangelical sects and caused intense hardship for every other Christian faith.
When the ash finally cleared and settled, there was a time when the sun became bright again and there was a semblance of peace. It was during this time that Alyssa Stark came into the world.
She was five years old when President James Antonine Grayson, then newly elected, drafted the New Constitution and burned the original in Capitol Mall. It was a great celebration. I watched it on the holo. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, without knowing why.
But the people, the majority of them anyway, loved him. He promised change, and he gave it to them, every change they wanted. Many things once outlawed were legalized and taxed--
gambling in all forms, narcotic drug sales, prostitution. Commerce was freed from regulation. The FCC and FDA, the FTC and the laws preventing monopolies, were all discarded as chaff. Anything could be bought if one had enough cash or credit, and the government profited.
This was a great relief to many, allowing the newly honest employment of thousands. Prisoners were set free if the activities for which they had been charged were no longer criminal . . . as long as they could cover the price of an appeal and waiver of sentence.
The President's motto was "A true democracy founded on freedom in its purest sense, not on the ‘prohibitions' our ancestors called freedom." In every speech he reiterated his theme, saying that we should be free to follow our dreams, whatever they might be, that moral restrictions were limitations of our truest freedom.
How I tired of hearing that speech as the years went on.
Under the new law things went on nearly as before. At first. life continued on its way, and few noticed the bureaucratic changes, not right away, at least. Many were still reeling from the shock of the Los Angeles disaster and the effects of relocation, trying to rebuild their lives and livelihoods. Highways were repaired, taxes collected, the Senate and Congress elected as usual.
The Electoral College was eliminated, of course. Technology allowed every citizen to vote online, through the Internet. Each vote was registered on the Federal Electoral website and counted on their central computers. Supposedly.
Term limits became a thing of the past, even for the Presidency. "Charlie," as his supporters called him, said that if the people loved him and wished him to continue in office, who was he to refuse them? Oh, how they cheered when he was sworn in for his third term, and later, his fourth. He called himself the President of the People.
A New Bill of Rights was passed, a distorted, condensed version of the original. From what I know, there used to be an amendment on freedom of religion, but that was omitted. A few individuals were upset by this, but they learned that silence was preferable to making objections. And it was easy to ignore their fate, especially with the Blankenship trial fresh in the public memory. Too many people were still angry, especially at anyone who believed in Christ.
What happened to those poor souls remains a mystery more shrouded than that old Roswell story, and one that is far less researched. I certainly don't know what happened. I can only say that they disappeared, and the reports of dissent didn’t last long.
In the meantime, America prospered. All was well. The President's popularity was never better in the polls. Or so the news reports said.
The Atlantic Subduction Trench formed the year Alyssa turned nine. She told us excitedly how she felt the shaking beneath her feet as she shoveled the driveway, only to learn later that the Atlantic seaboard from Maine to Florida had crumpled under the North American continental plate. The ocean floor just off the East Coast dropped to a depth of as much as six miles in some places . . . instantly and without warning. They felt it as far away as Denver.
In less than an hour, the resulting tsunami destroyed everything in its wake, sweeping the East Coast of all civilization from Boston to Atlanta and as far inland as Roanoke. The kilometer-wide fissure that opened up along the Appalachians still seeps and bubbles at unpredictable times. The water receded, but rebuilding was not an option. From the Appalachian Fault to the former Eastern seaboard, the land trembles so frequently and so violently that only the most stubborn of Easterners remain.
No one on either coast felt safe anymore. As a result, our Great Midwest urbanized at an alarming rate. Construction boomed, with skyscrapers and highways going up faster than ever before. Zoning codes were minimal, purchasable. There was no time for lengthy arguments in city council meetings over what should be built where. It became an architectural menagerie.
The President, away from D. C. when the tsunami hit, erected a Palace in the middle of the new metropolis. It became renowned as the Ninth Wonder of the World, though I never went to see it. It was great and spacious, and many grand parties were held there. Anyone who could afford the price of the tickets could attend. There were plenty of ways to earn the tickets if one wanted them badly enough, especially if one were young and pretty or had other useful talents.
The new capital became known as Central City. It was larger than the former state of Maryland. It bordered Des Moines on the north, Omaha and Wichita on the west, and Springfield on the south, and soon contained the largest population of any city on earth, by many millions. Thankfully it never did spread quite close enough to urbanize our own beautiful Eastern Iowa, but we worried sometimes.
It was a great hub, with twenty-eight airports and over three hundred mass transit systems. By satellite at night the continent appeared to have a great eye in its center, unblinking, unwinking, but ever in motion, with strands of light radiating from it, marking the highways like arteries and veins.
This is the era in which Alyssa's coming of age began.
Beverly Richardson
Richardson Family History
