Going Anonymous Page #4

Staria Visits the Prairies, Part 1

• Science fiction

								


Stuart paused, trying to find the right words. “Look, some people are still very skeptical of government support.”

“Yeah, but that’s just cracked up, living like that.”

“You have to understand,” said Stuart, “there was a time where very corrupt people were in positions of power all over the world. Narcissists and sociopaths, you know, people with bad desires. And they had lots of control, Fig, control over all kinds of things, like what books you should read, what you could and couldn’t do with your body, how you should raise your kids. It was a scary time, and for some people, they’re still sort of in that mindset. They don’t trust the government, so they refuse any outside aid or services.”

“There’s lots of rules now too though,” said Fig. “To live in the towns, for example, we have to follow all these rules. Like lights out, or no waste month.”

“Those rules are for ecological sustainability. They ensure the survival of future generations and reduce poverty, like what you just saw.”

“Yeah, but clearly, it hasn’t solved all the problems.”

“No, you’re right. Our world still has room to grow. But it’s much better than when it was run by fascists.”

“I just didn’t know that’s what it meant to go Anonymous,” said Fig, frowning. “I guess I pictured it differently.”

“Well, there are all kinds of people who go Anonymous. Some of them end up in communes or small communities, like the one Staria’s mom and I lived on (of course, we weren’t Anonymous, or at least not fully), and not all Anonymous folks reject tech or AI. That’s just a myth.”

Stuart had been absentmindedly holding the “doll” as he spoke, but Staria was unable to stop looking at it. 

“Can I have that, Dad?” she said, reaching for the toy. 

“I only bought it to be polite, but you can have it, if you want.” 

She took the doll and looked at it confused.

“Is this the same doll that that woman showed us?”

Fig and her father shared glances between them and then looked back at Staria, concerned.

“Yes, why?” 

“It just looks odd.” Staria studied it, turning it over in her hands. “But I guess you’re right. It is the same doll,” she said. “I think I was just having a hard time taking it all in.”

As she looked at it now, there was more to the toy than Staria had originally noticed. The old woman had used some kind of homemade adhesive to attach yarn to the top of the doll, like hair, each strand a different color and length. Some of the strands were frayed, and the woman had carefully braided those. It kind of matched Fig’s outfit, and this connection made Staria smile. She could smell the faint hint of berry on the doll’s lips and charcoal for the eyes. It was dressed in a hand-sewn outfit, which included small buttons and a functional set of pockets in the pants. The fabric was old and stained, but Staria could tell the stitching was done with tenderness. A wave of discomfort washed over her as she continued examining the item. 

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” she asked. 

Fig took the doll and held it up to the sunlight, examining it. 

“You can tell this was made with love,” Fig announced with authority. “They’ve got each other, so I think they’ll be okay.”

Stuart nodded in agreement, and the three walked on.
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