AmEarth
Chapter 17

The school year started in September, and students all over the world ran to their classrooms, asking questions; Columbia University was no exception. Navigating the huge campus, Scott finally found where he was supposed to go on his first day of school. He sat in the highest row of the huge classroom where American History, a core requirement of Columbia, was being taught. At first, it seemed interesting because of the new setting, but the course was going over everything that he already knew. Combined with the teacher’s monotonous voice, Scott began to drift and feel sleepy. The classroom reached a peak level of boredom as the professor announced that he was giving the floor over to his new T.A. Scott was staring intently at a beautiful girl a few rows down and was not paying much attention to the class, when a familiar voice began talking about the founding fathers of the USA.

“Please turn to page 101 in your books. One of the most interesting aspects of the early constitution of the US was that its interpretation gradually changed completely from what the founding fathers intended. For instance, the phrase ‘all men are created equal’ really meant ‘all white male landowners are created equal,’ since they did not believe that all men (and women) were equal. Does anyone here know why?”

The voice was that of Ted Landon. Scott was shocked to see him here, teaching in his class!

“Because they owned slaves,” one student shouted out, and Mr. Landon nodded.

“Exactly. These men not only frowned on people without money, but also on other races. It took from 1565 to 1964 for African Americans in America to receive the same rights as whites, thanks to the passing of the Civil Rights Act. Before that, African Americans were openly discriminated against everywhere they went, from restaurants and clubs to public transportation.”

Scott could not believe that Mr. Landon was standing there. What was he doing at Columbia? As a teaching assistant no less! Was he following him? Scott knew that his father was the most powerful man on the planet, so he figured it had to be connected somehow. He looked at Mr. Landon to see if he would make eye contact. Any acknowledgment of him might reveal his intentions. Mr. Landon remained busy with the lesson and did not look in his direction once.

“So the initial constitution was crafted by rich white men, for rich white men, and only ended up benefiting ‘all men’ after 1964, because of a legal interpretation. What does this say about the American system and how it got us here?”

“It’s slow as hell,” another student jokingly answered.

General laughter.

“It’s flexible?” another student ventured.

“It was both flexible and slow, yes,” Mr. Landon responded. “Times change, and our perception of morality changes with them. We cannot go back to the unjust past, and we must strive to improve mankind’s equality.”

“So the original constitution was founded on the premise that only certain men were actually equal, but that was a lie back then, just as it is now. Right?” a student asked.

“It’s not really that simple, but yes. The founding fathers did not mean that ‘all’ men were equal. To them, the term ‘men’ only meant a small sampling of men, and certainly did not include their slaves, but the equality for the men included was a philosophical and moral equality. Therefore, as soon as other men were recognized as being equal, both philosophically and morally, then they had to be included. It’s just a shame that it took so long for society to recognize this,” Mr. Landon announced dramatically.

The student bristled a bit.

“It was a lie. Even today it’s a lie. Men are never truly equal. Some are rich and powerful, while others are not. Some are smarter than others, more beautiful…the list goes on and on…”

“The rights that the constitution grants are not related to finances or aesthetics. It does not say that all men will have the same wealth or beauty,” Mr. Landon countered.

“Maybe it should,” another student suggested.

“Well, if there was such a law, then there would be no space for difference in the world—those anomalies that make the world interesting and random. Imagine a world where everyone was identical in every respect. It would be equal, but terribly boring!”

The class continued, but Scott hardly heard the discussion. H, was still trying to get over the shock of seeing Mr. Landon in his classroom. When the class was overteeveryone left except Scott, who stayed and stared at Mr. Landon. He still never looked up at him. H, aeemed absorbed by the notes and papers on his desk as he cleaned up. Some female students went up to him and chatted brieflymomlmost flirting, but he quickly sent them off.

Scott walked slowly up the aisle and out of the top door. In the hallway, he decided to return and catch a last glance of Mr. Landon. Scott turned around and peeked his head back into the auditorium, only to see Mr. Landon dart through the rear door. Scott dialed his father’s office, and laughed once again at how bizarre it was to have a direct line to the supreme president of AmEarth.

“Can I speak with him, please?” Scott asked.

“Sure, honey. Give me a second,” Rosemary said.

“Mr. President, it’s your son on line one,” Rosemary spoke into the intercom.

“Thanks,” Peter replied and picked up.

“Scott, how’s Columbia treating you?”

“I can’t complain, although it’s definitely a challenge. It’s so weird, Dad. You’re so famous now. Everyone knows who I am and treats me like I’m going to break, or freak out, or…” Scott trailed off, not having planned to unload all of this right away on his dad.

“I’m sorry about that, son, but hopefully it will end up being good luck—an opportunity instead of a burden.”

“I’ll try, but it’s harder than I ever expected. I don’t know who I am now. I’m just the president’s son.”

“Oh, Scott, remember that talk we had about the tree rings?”

“The inside of the tree core, and the self?”

“Yes. Just imagine this as a new ring being made. All the others are still intact and protected; there is just a new one to consider.”

“I never really paid much attention to your ring theory. Sorry, Dad.”

“Scott, I just want you to know that you are still you, regardless of who I am. Even if this new chapter changes you, the real you is still in there. Don’t forget that. Okay?”

“Okay. Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to talk to you about some of that stuff we discussed before. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really need to speak with you about it.”

“You know what, son, I’d like to speak to you about it as well. I’ve been asking myself some of those same questions you posed. But we’ll need some privacy. Why don’t you come home tonight? I’ll send the helicopter if you want.”

“Dad, that’s the last thing I need at this point. I can just imagine what people will think if I start getting picked up in the president’s helicopter. No way. I’ll just drive there. See you for dinner tonight.”

“Teenagers,” Peter teased. “Nothing is ever good enough. I would have killed for a helicopter valet at your age. Good-bye, son.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Scott clicked off his wafer and clipped it back onto his clothing. He walked to Lewisohn Hall, admiring the leaves that had turned orange in the recent changing weather. He felt different at college from how he’d felt in his former school; there was a self-consciousness that made everything feel surreal. The fact that his father was known to every human on Earth also made matters…complicated.

One example was when he had found himself in an English class, an elective, and he arrived one minute late. The professor looked at him as though he had killed someone. He sat down in the back row and tried to disappear into his thoughts of Cate, and how she had left for college in California. She was so far away and texting was just not the same as being with her in person. He suddenly noticed that the teacher had an annoying tone in his high-pitched voice and was addressing the class rather rudely.

“I will say this one last time. There will be no tardiness in my classroom. If you are late, you will not be allowed to enter, and you will miss that lesson. In this class, you will learn to appreciate the English language from its very roots. We will read Beowulf aloud, and you will all learn to pronounce it and understand its meaning from top to bottom. I expect everyone to be involved in the class reading. We will also perform one Shakespeare play in the auditorium,” the professor proudly proclaimed.

For the first time in his life, Scott realized that this was an elective and that this curmudgeon of a human being might just ruin his love of the English language. He stood up in midsentence, but the professor kept speaking. Scott walked back to the front door through which he had entered only two minutes earlier.

“Excuse me?” the professor said.

“What?” Scott shot back, knowing that he was going to be reprimanded somehow.

“You have the chutzpah to come late, and now you’re rudely leaving while I’m talking!”

“I’m in the wrong class.”

“Which class are you supposed to be in?” the professor demanded, his pudgy face getting red.

“English.”

“This is English!”

“No. This is Old English. And I still have time to change my elective,” Scott said, and promptly turned around and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He felt empowered by speaking back to a teacher, something he’d never done before. That professor was obnoxious and deserved to be knocked down a peg or two. Behind him, the door opened and closed again and a pair of girls exited the curmudgeon’s class. They giggled and followed Scott as he strolled down the hall.

Scott was not interested, as he was still loyal to Cate, so he kept walking. The only thing he could think about was getting answers from Mr. Landon. He decided to return to Hamilton Hall and confront Mr. Landon. In the main office of Hamilton Hall, he was directed to the teachers’ lounge, where he was told that Mr. Landon could often be found. He walked the beautiful wide hallways of the first level, which were punctuated by thick wooden doors and Tuscan columns painted in white, contrasting gently with the walls, which were painted in baby blue. He found the lounge quite easily, and when Scott entered, he thought that he saw someone who looked like Mr. Landon ducking quickly behind a partition. Scott looked around the room, but after failing to locate Mr. Landon, he walked to the corner of the lounge where the partition was located. He found Mr. Landon on all fours, apparently looking for something under the table.

“Mr. L., can you come up from under there?” Scott asked.

“Scott, my friend, what are you doing here?” Mr. Landon said, seemingly surprised.

“Cut the crap. Are you following me?”

“What?” Mr. Landon’s eyes grew wide, and for a moment, Scott thought that maybe Mr. Landon was simply a TA, but he dismissed that thought. Coincidences don’t exist.

“Well? What brings you to Columbia University? Why are you my TA?” Scott asked.

“You’re in my class? What are the odds?” Mr. Landon exclaimed.

“Stop it. My father said that someone was feeding me information to damage the government of AmEarth. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Shhh…Scott, what in the devil are you saying? Are you mad? Lower your voice,” Mr. Landon implored him.

“Well, explain yourself. Now.”

“Listen, Scott, I’m not feeding you anything. The document you read was not intended for your eyes. Do you think back then that I knew your father would become the president? Did you honestly think that?”

“No,” Scott admitted quietly, feeling some of his bravado fade.

“Please, sit down and lower your voice. I’ve been waiting for this position at Columbia for five years! So, no…I didn’t come here to follow you! I’m trying to teach for a few years and eventually get tenure here. Did you really think that I could just follow you to your choice of college and no one would notice? Anyway, you were dead-set on Stanford. I’m as surprised to see you here as you are to see me.”

“Yes, but you have to admit, that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“That it is. That it is.”

“By the way, that Kepler document is bullshit, right?” Scott said.

“Whatever you say. I’m not going to contradict you, Scott. However, you are in way over your head. It’s best to leave it alone. Yeah?”

“Yes, I know. It’s best to leave it alone.”

Scott got up, feeling relieved that his paranoia had been unfounded.

“What is the Shadow White House like?” Mr. Landon asked.

“Amazing. It’s an apartment though,” Scott said.

“Really?”

“A huge apartment. It’s so big…elegant as hell.”

“In the AmEarth building? In Brooklyn?”

“Yep, Floors ninety-eight to one hundred. It’s lush.”

“Wow.”

“It’s actually a replica of the White House—paintings and all. Identical.”

“That’s amazing!”

“And with a view like you wouldn’t believe!”

Scott had been planning to leave, but he suddenly sat down again, leaned in, and spoke quietly.

“I was wondering one more thing…” he said.

“What is that?” Mr. Landon asked warily.

“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that the alien threat is a hoax. In that case, what happened above Poland last April?”

“Scott…please just drop it. You’re far too close to AmEarth.”

“Just give me this one thing. The bomb over Poland was an alien attack…right?”

“Wrong,” Mr. Landon stated emotionlessly.

“Hmm…”

Scott paused and looked at Mr. Landon intently. For some reason, he felt that he could trust him.

“Well, I don’t believe it, either. I think we planted the bomb up there to quell dissent,” Scott stated.

“Sounds about right,” Mr. Landon concurred.

“What should we do?”

“We? There is no we, Scott. You’re a member of the victorious side of the greatest power grab in the history of the world. AmEarth has a stronghold in every corner of the globe and the one country that had proof of this regime’s lies has fallen. I don’t know that Earth has any way out of AmEarth now.”

“But AmEarth is not all that bad, is it?”

“I’d like to think that. Really, I would. The problem is not apparent now, but it might become clear in the future.”

“Why?”

“Every empire throughout history has been corrupt and eventually collapsed. I see no reason why AmEarth would have a different destiny. The only difference is that its collapse could be substantially more devastating, because it is currently ruling over all the resources on Earth and is centralizing the means of production.”

What? You lost me…”

“Look at it this way. Imagine that we all need widgets to eat, okay? Then, we find all the available land to plant widgets and start cultivating. Then, we need a special machine to process them, so we can consume the widgets, but only one company can make this machine. Then, we are stuck with all this land in the hands of one single technology and a global population dependent on it. What happens if the people reclaim their land, but have no access to the technology?”

“Famine?”

“Exactly, and if this type of super-specialization reaches all the products and services we currently use, then what? All the gains of AmEarth’s development can disappear overnight. All of these technologies can stop working and become useless pieces of junk.”

“Wow. I’ve never thought of that before.”

Scott saw that Mr. Landon had a point. The very basis of improvement could lead to a massive failure of their entire system of living.

“If we can prove that AmEarth is based on a lie, we might get the original countries to separate again, mightn’t we?” Scott said.

“Yes, just like the Soviet Union in the 1990s.”

“Exactly, which means that we need to reveal the Kepler document.”

Mr. Landon looked around cautiously. They had both checked to make sure no one was within earshot, but he wanted to check one more time.

“Scott, the first things that AmEarth took over in New Zealand were the observatories and the telescopes. All of them are now in the hands of AmEarth. Kepler 3763 is now basically invisible, so the document is just a piece of paper—worthless paper.”

“What about the landing in Bolivia? Or the alien threat announcement? Or this hoax over Poland!”

“All would be difficult to prove.”

“But there must be something,” Scott was practically pleading now.

“Scott,” Mr. Landon said seriously, “your father is the president. Do you really want to bring him down?”

“No, but I don’t think he knows that AmEarth is based on a lie.”

“You’re sadly mistaken. Of course he knows. He’s the president.”

“But I’ve asked him.”

“Do you think that presidents can divulge global secrets to their children?”

Scott’s face fell in disappointment. “I guess not.”

“Please, Scott, just drop this. There is only…”

Mr. Landon let that last remark hang in the air as he stopped himself.

“What was that?” Scott asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Landon tried to brush it off.

“Come on, we’ve already come this far. My dad won’t believe anything I say anyway.”

“Well, one of the reasons that New Zealand has been resistant to the alien theory is the aesthetics of the alien civilization. Most people there agree that they’ve been crafted by a human in order to emulate an alien race, but it is such a human-centric version. Many people actually believe that a specific art director who once worked in New Zealand is responsible for these fictitious aesthetics.”

Scott was completely enthralled.

“Art director? Like for movies?”

“Yes. New Zealand has the second-largest studio for science fiction art direction in the world. Weta.”

“So they can prove that the alien life forms are not alien?”

“Yes. They think that a former Weta employee is the ‘creator’ of the aliens.”

“Who?”

“According to Pat, the daughter of the Weta owners dated a Mexican artist there, and the owners fired him to stop the romance. The scheme worked, and the two broke up. The guy basically disappeared from the art-directing world. She became depressed and hated her parents for driving them apart, so she dedicated herself to finding him. She watched movies and commercials, music videos, plays, and scoured personal video postings in search of her lover. For years, she had no luck.”

“But she recognized his work in the aliens?”

“Exactly. According to Pat, she told everyone at Weta about how the alien technology and the alien physiognomy looked like the work of Sergio Ramirez-Bulatov.”

“That’s his name? Sergio Ramirez-Bulatov? What a strange name…”

“Half-Russian and half-Mexican.”

“What a combo.”

Mr. Landon chuckled.

“If you know an artist’s work, then you can recognize his hand in everything. It’s like a Picasso is always a Picasso, even though his works differ markedly,” Mr. Landon explained.

“I get that, but how do we prove it?”

“There’s that we again. We don’t do anything. Scott, don’t include me in your plans. I don’t want to be in your family’s crosshairs. Otherwise, I’ll disappear faster than Sergio!”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I’m not kidding. This would be considered treason, and treason is the only crime punishable by death. Be careful of what you say. I think that in Weta, or perhaps in the hands of Ms. Taylor, the early art of Ramirez-Bulatov is the only proof of the hoax. I say it’s the only proof because any possible proof from Kepler 3763 itself is gone now. The only convincing evidence might be this artist’s signature in the alien creation, and it takes a trained eye to spot that.”

“I can’t believe this, Mr. Landon. My dad has been talking about the aliens for years. He believes in them; I’m almost sure of it. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Kepler 3763 is twenty-three point five light years away, right?” Mr. Landon asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, that is also a comfortable mathematical coincidence. Pat had been in touch with Dr. Oliver Cook, the astronomer who wrote the report, and he told him that the choice of Kepler 3763 was not random. They needed a planet exactly 23.5 light years away. That way, it matched up with the supposed Roswell landing and the early stages of the space race. That would make the exact time for the first landings here, about forty-seven years later…which is when AmEarth began.. You see, all the physical proof is ‘supposedly’ from spaceships sent 47many yearago that are just arriving now. If you reverse-engineer the past, 23.5 is the ideal number.”

“So, mathematically, they found a planet that would give them a plausible scenario.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Landon confirmed in a whisper.

“This means that the rockets coming from there are our rockets returning to us to deliver the art-directed content?” Scott said.

“Indeed!”

“You’re blowing my mind, Mr. Landon! And my father knows all of this?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Mr. Landon admitted, a hint of regret in his voice.

“I have to go.” Scott felt like the world was closing in on him. His whole life had been defined by a lie, perpetuated by his own father.

“Scott, don’t do anything stupid. Please. If you tell anyone, even you could be charged with treason. This is the type of stuff that people shouldn’t even think about.”

Scott left the building, concerned for his future, but more convinced of the truth than ever before. Later, he had to go to the Shadow White House and meet his family for dinner. Then it would be time for his father to answer some real questions.

A moment later, a text message arrived from Cate.

Call me. feeling :(

Scott ordered his wafer to “Call Cate.”

“Honey, what is it?” Scott began when she picked up the phone.

“I’m just having a really hard time. I don’t know where to start,” Cate whimpered.

“I wanted to call you before, I’m really sorry. I’ve been swamped. I have so much to tell you about AmEarth!”

’Listen, Scott, I don’t have time for AmEarth and all your theories right now. Can I just tell you why I called?” Her tone was serious, and upset, and a bad feeling began to rise in Scott’s stomach.

“Okay, sorry Cate. What’s going on?”

“You know how we talked about the distance and college and all that? Well, I sort of met someone…”

“What? What do you mean, you met someone?”

“It’s not like I’m dating someone, Scott. It’s just that this one guy keeps inviting me to go out and I’m bored and lonely, and I want to get out and do something.”

“So do you want to date this guy now? Are you saying that we should see other people? I mean, honestly, that hasn’t even crossed my mind. I love you, Cate.”

“I love you, too. But…”

“I get it. You like this guy and you’ve already gone out with him. I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cate said.

“Too late.” Scott hung up abruptly and felt the floor shift beneath him. Another weight had been dropped on his shoulders. First his father, and now his girlfriend. It seemed like everyone was lying to him.

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