Authors: Kirk Adams
“That’s it?” Sean asked. “Nothing more?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So I could sleep with a woman on our first date, as long as we drank two glasses of wine instead of four.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“What if we drank three? Is a man a rapist for one glass of wine?”
“Be practical.”
Sean stopped laughing. “I am being practical,” he said with an irritated voice. “One of my college buddies went to jail for drunk driving because his girlfriend was paralyzed in a car accident. The wreck wasn’t even his fault, but he was .001 percent over the legal limit. He only drank three beers. If he’d crashed fifteen minutes later or even drank one swig less, he’d be a free man instead of a felon. To be honest, if he’d pissed before he left the bar, he’d be out of jail.”
“And the girl would still be paralyzed.”
“What if,” Sean continued, “a woman consented in the evening after two glasses of wine but changed her mind with the hangover?”
“That’d be her fault,” Hilary said.
“But how could it be judged if she swore otherwise. Your standards rely on the wisdom of Solomon to sort out every lover’s quarrel.”
“And yours,” Hilary said, “are no standards at all.”
“There are no real standards,” Sean said, “beyond the choices of individuals.”
“Which society must sometimes arbitrate.”
“Why? It’s a personal matter.”
“Not always,” Hilary said, “just ask the baby in Ursula’s belly.”
“She knew what she was doing.”
“How many drinks did she have?”
“No more than two.”
“So you’re off the hook,” Hilary said, “because she had no more than two drinks. Meanwhile, she has a baby for life. That’s the attitude women hate—that I hate.”
“It’s her body and her choice,” Sean said, “she can no more make me raise a child than I can force her to have one. Unless you’d rather give men a say over abortion?”
“Pig,” Hilary said.
“The problem,” Sean said, “is that you’re one of those who can’t imagine a woman might lie about rape. Or be mistaken.”
“And your problem,” Hilary countered, “is that you’re one of those who doubt men exploit women.”
“You’ve too much faith in honesty,” Sean replied.
“And you’ve too much faith in hormones,” Hilary retorted.
The debate ended as Sean took his pole to another breadfruit tree a short walk away. He used bare hands and bare feet to climb into the thick tree, its trunk sagging only a little from his weight. Standing among the branches, he used a pole with a sharpened blade (which Hilary handed to him) to cut breadfruit loose. Hilary tried to catch the falling fruit with a net and missed only two. They worked hard the rest of the day and returned several full bags of fruit to the storehouse. The produce was much needed since breadfruit reserves had been reduced to a dozen withered fruit and a couple bags of flour.
The next few days stretched long. Jason mostly worked compost duty while a dozen villagers constructed a kitchen. Brent built an oven from brick and mortar while others raised a high-roofed building over it. Once finished, the building included a rear entrance near the firepits and an underground storage bin—as well as a dining room with a twenty-foot table constructed of treated lumber and surrounded by twenty stools of all shapes and sizes (each one brought by its user). A Saturday morning christening was held at the new oven, though Jason and John didn’t attend since the former had fled to the north village while the latter disappeared before lunch and didn’t return until dinner. Few talked, except a couple villagers who mentioned they’d be glad to get the coming trial over.
On Sunday representatives from all five neighborhoods assembled for the meeting of the General Will of the People. Attendance was sufficient to establish a quorum—which was down from the previous General Will of the People (since nearly thirty residents claimed to be too ill or too busy to attend). In any case, the session started at noon with the traditional swearing of the oath shortly after Jason and several compatriots arrived from the north village.
The trial was underway.
Dr. Erikson spoke on behalf of the assaulted girl—despite Jason’s objections—as she recounted Ilyana’s story and corroborating details provided by other westerners, testifying for nearly an hour. Jason spoke on his own behalf regarding the mutual intoxication of the couple, his lack of malice, and the unforeseen circumstances in which he found himself. He insisted Ilyana initiated sex while he was too stoned to resist and also swore she claimed to be seventeen. After Jason’s testimony was complete, Olivia gave her account and though Ilyana asked to take the stand, her mother insisted otherwise—unwilling to subject her daughter to public shame. There was some discussion whether she possessed such authority, but no one wanted to force rape victims to testify publicly, so Olivia’s decision was left unchallenged.
Jason made a good witness. His sobs and sorrow kept the crowd quiet and won sympathy. Olivia, on the other hand, behaved miserably. Her accusations were spiteful and her handling of evidence obscure. She cried a few times and screamed several others. She demanded vengeance and swore defiance when rebuked for burning Jason’s tent. And though her daughter’s sexual history wasn’t reviewed, Olivia didn’t bother to deny that her daughter potentially had demonstrated interest in a man with whom she smoked dope on more than one occasion. As for Ilyana, she was deposed and questioned in private by members of the Executive Council—and her testimony was relayed to the assembly only through a moderator. Witnesses were cross-examined by the contesting parties and final statements made late in the day.
No one doubted Jason had slept with the girl. What was disputed was the legality of the sexual union, as well as the proper punishment for illicit sexual intercourse. Olivia insisted her daughter was the victim of date rape, statutory rape, and sexual assault—and demanded Jason be punished harshly as a deterrence to sexual predators. Jason, on the other hand, admitted only to having been as stoned as Ilyana and to having shown judgment as poor as hers. He insisted he’d neither broken a law nor intended harm and offered to marry (or otherwise cohabit with) the girl if deemed best by the public assembly. He promised to submit to an intoxication management course—though he reminded his fellow citizens that drug use was a right of Paradise and that he’d provided marijuana to many of them. He publicly forgave Olivia the destruction of his property and renounced any right to restitution.
Dr. Erikson closed testimony by making a few comments about the gravity of the case, observing that important public safety considerations were at stake, along with the need to outlaw sexploitation and uphold acceptable standards for inebriated conduct. Though it was her personal opinion that statutory rape wasn’t grounds for prosecution (since the recently adopted marriage laws permitted both sexual union and marriage to anyone old enough to consent), she did allow that the power differential of the couple might make date rape demonstrable on the grounds of Ilyana’s youth—as long as the judicial interpretation wasn’t taken to forbid all May-December (or even April-October) unions. Dr. Erikson also publicly rebuked Olivia for lawlessness and vigilantism which had endangered an entire neighborhood. After the psychologist finished speaking, a recess was declared so the judicial assembly might deliberate its judgment. Subsequent discussions were loud and sometimes frenzied as the assembly disputed and debated the island’s first criminal case. Meanwhile, Olivia took Ilyana to the beach to get away from the commotion and Jason stepped into a storage tent to smoke a joint.
Three hours later, a vote was taken and Jason was acquitted of sexual assault, but convicted of inappropriate sexual contact. The sense of the community was that while Dr. Erikson was correct in arguing that statutory rape technically was not against the law (since no such prohibition had been legislated), the majority also believed that the state of Paradise needed to use this unfortunate event to establish and enforce gender equality: an essential element of the constitution itself. Several feminists protested tacit consent was no consent at all, though even they admitted this was a case of one word against another and it couldn’t be proved Ilyana had withheld permission to be touched either by tacit or explicit denial—especially since Jason had testified so convincingly and Ilyana apparently had been too stoned to remember many details. Though the teenaged girl’s erotic dream was taken by some to be evidence that she’d been aroused enough to enjoy the lovemaking (with arousal being judged the ultimate proof of consent since rape was deemed utterly incompatible with sexual pleasure), others noted that the girl’s shirt hadn’t been removed (suggesting she hadn’t been particularly interested in foreplay). In any event, it was decided inappropriate sexual contact—or date rape in common parlance—was the appropriate charge and Jason was convicted thereof. Following Jason’s conviction, a motion was made to indict Olivia for arson and her subsequent conviction was secured in minutes since she’d already confessed as much during her testimony.
Both sentences were considered severe. Jason was stripped of all rights as a citizen and forbidden to serve as a public official or vote in public assembly. He also was sentenced to a full week of exile on a motu to contemplate his rehabilitation back into society—though he was provided a sufficient supply of food and water to maintain his comfort and health. It also was decided he should write a letter of apology and undergo sexual predator counseling on Sunday mornings for the next two months and be transferred to the north village to reduce friction within the western village. Olivia was given a similar sentence, though without the loss of citizenship or transfer of residence. Her crimes were classified as hate crimes and punished accordingly. Though most members of the assembly sympathized with her motives, the majority decided vigilantism merited discipline and sentenced Olivia to a full week of internal exile after she absolutely refused to renounce her sins and beg clemency—though the original demand for external exile was mitigated in deference to Ilyana’s needs.
Following the assembly’s refusal to hear Jason’s final appeal on the grounds that the case was closed and dusk was near, the governing charter was recited and the assembly dismissed. While several citizens of Paradise found flashlights and others lit improvised torches, most islanders stumbled home in the dark. Before they started home, a delegation of westerners met with Dr. Erikson to schedule a visit for Tuesday evening.
25
The Children of Aquarius
Work began at dawn with a communal breakfast during which proposals were made for village improvements. Since the new kitchen lacked both design and decorations, several women requested that New Plymouth be petitioned to import exterior primer and all-weather paint to adorn windows and doors originally built more to survive tropical storms than please the eye. It also was decided that leftover construction materials were sufficient to build a school at an undetermined time in the near future. However, despite several planned improvements in physical surroundings, many villagers remained dispirited and the session soon devolved into murmuring and complaining. Dissent ended only when Ryan called for July elections—it already being the second day of the month. This time, everyone agreed that a lottery was required to avoid favoritism and factionalism. To the dismay of many villagers, Sean’s marker was selected for Chief Neighbor and Deidra’s for the Executive Council.
Without much deliberation, Sean assigned Ryan and Kit to the fishing nets and John to sewage treatment. He made Jose work with Heather to cook meals while tasking Hilary, Linh, and Tiffany to clear land, plant crops, and cut wood. Brent and Viet were told to collect fruits, vegetables, and herbs—as was Lisa. Ursula was asked to tend children and animals and Charles to build food pantries. Joan was assigned food preparation (for storage) and Maria was given trail clearing. Ilyana was told to help with younger children and animals. Sean decided to rotate between assisting with trail clearing and food collection—staying near Lisa and Maria. Only Olivia wasn’t given an immediate assignment due to her detention. Sean also requested a censure of John (who had missed the meeting), but counted only two votes in favor of his motion.
After breakfast was finished and the meeting adjourned, villagers began their assigned tasks. While the weather was perfect—a warm sun cooled by ocean breezes—life in the village wasn’t nearly as nice as the climate. Most villagers remained irritable or despondent and their despair was reflected in sloppy work and quarrelsome attitudes. Following a sharp dispute regarding the portions served for lunch, Sean finally suggested a work suspension until tempers cooled. His proposal was accepted and several neighbors walked to the beach and others splashed with their children in the Pishon River. A few even passed the time napping. When the day was spent, nearly everyone retired early.
When John emerged from the forest well after dark carrying a rough-hewn piece of furniture, Kit was alone at the low-burning campfire as she sipped coffee and reflected on the day’s events. She waved when she saw John.
“Hi, John.”
“Where’s everyone at?”
“Early bed. It was a rough day.”
“I figured so. That’s why I took off.”
“I wondered where you were.”
“I lost track of time,” John said as he sat on a smooth-planed stump near Kit. “The battery died last week. On my watch.”
“What’re you carrying?” Kit asked.
“A cradle.”
Kit’s eyes brightened. “Really?”
“It’s for Ursula,” John said. “I carved it from a hollow trunk. See how it rocks. And these stabilizer bars will prevent it from flipping once they’re screwed in.”
“What if they fall out? Will the cradle roll?”
“They won’t slip out. I’ll soak the wood before I screw it in. When the wood dries, it creates a seal.”
“Without glue?”
“Yeah. I once visited a log cabin in Kentucky recreated from the time of the Revolution. Ladder rungs to the loft were made this way: rods were soaked in water and pounded into holes. They were decades old and still could bear the weight of a grown man. This cradle will hold.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s not much to look at, but it’ll work for a newborn. This was a quick job, but I’ll make a real crib when there’s more time.”
“Why so early? She isn’t due for months.”
“We don’t have time to waste,” John replied, “though I’m not sure everyone realizes it.”
“I must be one of the blind,” Kit said. “Things seem to be going well as far as our work is concerned.”
“I’m not convinced,” John explained with a shake of his head. “We’ll have our wood supply built up before the rainy season—and our food stores as best as I can tell. But these tents are a problem.”
“Don’t we plan to live in them for a year?”
“We flooded after a few day’s rain. Imagine what it’ll be like after a month.”
Kit grimaced. “Uhhhh.”
“Besides,” John said, “our plan was to have a kitchen built for food preparation and a communal house for sleeping and schooling. Right?”
“That’s right,” Kit said, “and both buildings should be finished ahead of schedule.”
“I don’t intend,” John continued, “to sleep in the same room as Deidra and Sean. Not for one night and not for three months.”
“I hadn’t really thought through the implications.”
“I have.”
“Oh, goodness,” Kit said, “that means Maria will be sleeping near Ryan and me.”
“And the other couples.”
“Sean and Jose will see us when we dress.”
“They’ll see everything,” John said, “and winters here aren’t cold. All those bodies in one room will heat up. Blankets will be packed away and clothes removed.”
“What can we do?”
“The communal house,” John said, “will exist for those who want it. But I plan to build my own place and I’ll help you build a home too. If Ryan and I work together, we can work nights to cut timber while you thatch grass. It’ll only take a week or two to raise two houses if we work in tandem. See this drawing. It’s a thatched roof hut: with a lifted floor and a storage loft and ventilation windows. If we want, we can even soften the floor with sand or use hot coals for indoor heating on damp nights.”
Kit looked at a folded paper that John slipped from his shirt pocket and volunteered Ryan’s help, then walked to the mess tent and poured two cups of coffee. John took his coffee black while Kit sweetened hers with lumps of processed sugar as she waited for him to renew the conversation.
“I’m concerned about Ursula,” John said after his cup was half-empty, “and her baby.”
“Why?”
“The rainy season will be dangerous for a newborn.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“A damp tent,” John said, “could kill a baby.”
“Maybe she can stay in the schoolhouse?”
“The others won’t be thrilled to share a room with a baby.”
“Maybe,” Kit said as she looked at John, “Sean can build her a house?”
“He won’t.”
“The neighborhood can insist.”
“We won’t.”
“What can she do?” Kit asked.
“I was thinking,” John answered, “Ursula could stay with me. Do you think she’d be offended if I invited her?”
“Do you mean,” Kit looked down, her eyes crossing her own legs as she blushed, that you …”
“That’s not what I mean at all,” John said stone-faced. “I’m giving a cradle, not robbing one. Have you seen any women near my tent?”
“She is pretty,” Kit said.
“She’s a pretty girl,” John said, “whose baby shouldn’t suffer for its father’s sin.”
“Are there sins in Eden?”
John took a drink of his coffee. “Either a crime or a sin,” he said. “I don’t see any other way of describing the mess Sean’s managed to make.”
“Dr. Morales,” Kit replied, “would say it’s a question of social ethos and Dr. Erikson would call it a lifestyle choice.”
John finished his coffee before he spoke again and Kit sipped from her cup as she waited for him to do so.
“Did I ever tell you,” John eventually said, “my grandfather was forced to marry, more-or-less at gunpoint, after getting my grandmother pregnant?”
“That’s horrible.”
“They were married fifty years,” John answered, “and he became a deacon in the church. I mean, a really conservative Presbyterian church. They left seven children and thirty grandchildren, most of them good enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Kit now finished her coffee. ”I’m sorry about Deidra.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Neither spoke for several minutes—until John yawned and stood.
“Time to go to bed.”
“Me too,” Kit said. “Sometimes I’m too restless to sleep. I’m used to having a husband.”
“I know. Sometimes I think even a bad marriage is better than none at all.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
“Neither am I,” John whispered, “but I liked marriage. Usually. It was good to me and even bad years were better than the ones before. Better an imperfect good than absolutely nothing.”
“That sounds profound.”
“Almost Augustinian. Evil as the negation of good and absolute evil as nothing good at all.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Kit whispered as she pressed the flat of her belly.
“You have Ryan,” John replied as he pulled Kit’s hand away from her waist.
“I wonder if I do.”
“You also have honor,” John said. “Keeping a promise to a grandmother even when she’ll never know it. I admire that.”
“My grandmother,” Kit said as she looked straight at John, “was very traditional. She helped raise me when my mother traveled. When I was fifteen, she sat me down and told me bluntly that while it wasn’t her business what I did in private—she didn’t want to know one way or the other—she didn’t want me living with any man until I was married. And she made me promise not to. She said I couldn’t date until I promised.”
“You’re keeping a promise made under duress?”
“A promise is a promise, after all.”
“You’re a good person.”
“She passed away,” Kit said with a shrug, “before I met Ryan, but it was nice to know I’d have pleased her. She was a good grandma.”
Neither spoke for a minute.
“Another week or so,” John said, “then you and Ryan are back to normal.”
“I wonder if it really is.”
John didn’t press the point, but thanked Kit for the coffee and took the cradle back to his tent. The fire had burned itself to ashes and it wasn’t necessary for Kit to douse the coals with water before she retired.
Tuesday was busy. Most villagers rose early to make up hours lost the previous day—though dinner wasn’t served until late in the afternoon and the dishes cleaned only at dusk. Children were sent to bed early and improvised chairs lined up before a bonfire. Dr. Erikson was scheduled as a dinner guest, arriving late after having been detained by a counseling session with the northerners about their drug use and work habits. In fact, she remained noticeably flustered when she reached the west village and managed to settle down only after eating a plate of cold food. Then she collected her thoughts, rose before the assembled village, and spoke—not far from the campfire. Now and then, a villager threw a log into the fire and the flames would rise into the evening sky. At such moments, Dr. Erikson’s face grew clear and her features sharp, but as the flames fell, her image became dark and dim.
“To begin with,” Dr. Erikson opened the discussion, “you must remember—every one of you—that you’re the chosen ones. You’re the truest progressives and broadest-minded liberals drawn from the old world. Every one of you must remember how you lived your life to this very day and how you’ll make a difference for all humankind for generations to come. Children yet unborn—though not to say unborn children—will live in peace and harmony based on how each of you chooses to behave on this island.”
Dr. Erikson took a sip of water.
“You are—that is to say, we are—the rainbow coalition,” the psychologist continued. “Look to your left and to your right. Black and white and brown and red and yellow. There are gays and straights, liberals and progressives, Marxists and libertarians on this island. Ryan left the accolades of Hollywood to begin this colony. He sold his home and left his fans. And each of you has done the same. You’ve given up father and mother and sister and brother for our peaceful republic of humankind. And now you’ve toiled and suffered and ached and endured a hundred trials. Yet look at what already has been accomplished. We’ve begun to feed ourselves from the fruits of nature: catching fish from the sea and collecting eggs from nests. Our hands and those of our compatriots plant crops and milk goats and one neighborhood even made its first cake of cheese. You yourselves have set a good example by raising this magnificent storehouse—with enough room to store several months of provisions. Haven’t you already proven wrong the conservatives who mocked us—who always insisted the New Left hadn’t the hardiness or the heart of the religious zealots who first built Boston? Haven’t you given the lie to those who insist political progressives are capable only of expropriating wealth manufactured by capitalism and enjoying neighborliness engendered by social conservatives? As if none of us was any better than a Bolshevik profiteer or the rust that ruins an automobile. As if we are only social parasites best flung into this fire like leeches and ticks.”
The crowd stilled as the speaker pressed her point.