Michael Bunker

PENNSYLVANIA

Acknowledgements

This one is for my family for always encouraging me to write more stories. Thanks for listening to me read them to you, and thanks for loving them. Thanks to my beta readers for all of your help. You are appreciated more than you know. A huge thank-you goes out to David Gatewood, my editor, for your wonderful work and help in making this book and series as good as we can possibly make it.

Thanks to my friend Jason Gurley for the incredible book cover! Check out Jason’s website: http://jason-gurley.squarespace.com/portfolio/

^{Chapter 1}

Old Pennsylvania

“Explain it to me again, brother. How do you get from here to there?”

Jed pushed his forehead into Zoe’s flank to make certain that she didn’t kick. She didn’t do it often, but she’d nailed him before and he wasn’t anxious for a repeat of that performance. He exhaled in mock annoyance at his little brother’s questions, but the truth was that he loved talking about the journey. He just pretended to hate it. Talking about it made it seem more real, but somehow less imminent in a way that he wasn’t sure he understood completely. He’d explained the whole pilgrimage and the colonization process to Amos a hundred times, at least, but Amos wasn’t going to stop talking about it until his older brother was gone.

“An airbus picks me up there,” he pointed up the long, winding drive, “and we fly to the Columbia checkpoint. From there, I board an English airbus that takes me to the Speedwell Galactic Transport station out in the desert in far West Texas. From there, all the pilgrims will board a ship bound for New Pennsylvania.”

“You’re really going, Jed?”

“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. I’ve already paid for my ticket, all except the monitoring. Nothing has happened that would change my mind, so I’m going.”

Jed finished stripping out the final teat, and the last squirts of milk buzzed into the bucket, which was now almost overflowing. “Our people have been pioneering for a thousand years or more. When our ancestors came here to Pennsylvania, they came on fearsome and incredible ships, traveling in ways that were strange to them at the time.”

“I felt sure you’d change your mind; just sure of it,” Amos said.

Amos was fourteen, fully four years younger, spry and witty, and he was not old enough yet to go through the initiation and orientation process that was administered to anyone interested in pioneering in New Pennsylvania.

Jed finished wiping down Zoe’s udder with warm water mixed with a light and mild soap, and then he stood, hanging the milking stool on the post with practiced dexterity.

“Once we get on our way…” He paused. This was the hard part to explain. “You see, Amos, New Pennsylvania is very, very far away—outside of our galaxy—in a place with another sun altogether. Anyway, once we board the ship, the passengers go to sleep in these things called ‘pods,’ and, according to the paperwork, we’ll sleep for nine full years. But—and this is the tricky thing—when we wake up, we won’t have aged any at all.”

Amos had heard this explanation from his older brother many times before, but he still whistled at the thought.

“And it will be that nine years will have passed according to the ship’s time. But all in all, to the passenger, it will feel like a journey of just a few hours!”

“I don’t understand it, Jed,” Amos said, screwing up his mouth and shaking his head. “I don’t know why the elders have approved of it.”

“What else can we do, little brother? Where can we go? We’re running out of land here, and no one can afford to buy any more. The government is pushing us out. It’s always been this way. The elders approved of this migration for the same reasons that many centuries ago they approved of our migration from Europe to here. Without it, we’ll be erased as a people. It’s already happening, Amos. Almost everyone we know works in town in the factories. Our population is exploding, and our way of life is dying out. But this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

“No?”

“No. It’s happened many times way far back in history, but it happened during Grandfather’s time too, when the wars came, and the population of the English dwindled, and after that, we had room to spread out more.”

Amos shrugged and his shoulders dropped. “Right. And this time, there is nowhere to go. But why must you go all the way to another planet? And why must Mother and Father never hear from you ever again?”

“When our people left Germany, Holland, and France to come to Pennsylvania, do you think they kept in touch with the old places after that? They didn’t rush home for weddings or funerals, Amos. It was too far away, and the travel was too expensive and too dangerous. There were no phones, and letters were expensive. Our people were never much for those forms of communication anyway.”

Jed looked at his brother and slapped him on the back. “Once I leave for New Pennsylvania, I’ll be in a place where it’s impossible to communicate back to here. The ships that take us there, they never come back. It’s a one-way voyage because those machines travel millions and millions of miles while we just sleep away there in the pods.” Jed looked at his brother and smiled. “Don’t be sad, little brother. It will only be a few years before you can come too. In fact, if the Lord wills it, when you start on your own journey, you’ll already be on your way by rocket ship before I even get there! Hopefully I’ll have a place set up for us by the time you arrive, and we’ll work the farm together.”

Amos shuffled his feet, his eyes down and his voice lowered, almost in a mumble. “Why can’t Mother and Father join us? Why don’t we all—everyone in the community—travel together at the same time?”

While they talked, Jed poured the milk into a stainless-steel vat, closed the lid, then unhooked Zoe from the tether that kept her in the milking stall. He backed her out and then walked with her out of the barn and into the southwest paddock. Amos followed with his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his black broadfall pants.

“You know the answers to those questions, Amos. They want young people. Eighteen to twenty-five only. They need people to work the land, and the pioneers who go will need every advantage they can get. It’s going to be tough starting out. The new colony cannot yet afford to take care of the elderly and the infirm. Besides, Mother and Father don’t want to go. This has always been their home, and though they support us going when it’s our time, they agree with the elders: only those who are needed should go.”

Jed unhooked the lead from Zoe’s halter and she walked only a few steps away before she started grazing on the lush grass. He folded up her lead and stuck it in his front pocket, and as he continued trying to soothe and placate his troubled brother, the two walked across the paddock.

“Eighteen to twenty-five is the perfect age, anyway. The younger children can work the farms here, and those who emigrate are the ones who would be just starting to look for their own land and new farms. Well, there aren’t many farms to find any more, so pioneering is the new thing. But it’s not new. Like I said before, our people have been doing it since the beginning. There’s nothing really new in this at all.”

Amos looked up as he followed his brother to the pump near the paddock fence. Jed pumped the handle, and when the cool, clear water came bursting forth, Amos scrubbed the milk pail under it until it was spotless. The grass grew thick and lush around their feet, and the water that splashed over it formed into glassy droplets on the blades and made the grass glisten.

“What if something bad happens to the ship along the way? What if it crashes or you die?”

“What if we were both struck by lightning right here in this field? Everyone dies, Amos. Zoe might’ve kicked either one of us in the head just now, and it would be over—just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Well, I think taking a spaceship to another galaxy is a little more dangerous than milking Zoe, brother.”

“Maybe, but we wouldn’t be here milking Zoe if our ancestors hadn’t braved the voyage to a new world. They came to escape religious bigotry and persecution, and to find new lands to farm. That’s the same reason I’m going to New Pennsylvania.”

“Are you all ready to go?”

“I am. They don’t let you take much, so I don’t have to pack. Basically you get there with what you’re wearing and not much more. They expect me to buy everything new when I arrive. That’s why I’ve been saving money.”

“And you won’t change your mind?”

“I will not.”

“Okay, brother. Then I’ll come after you. Four more years and I’ll be old enough. Besides, I’d like to see Matthias again. It’s been a year since he emigrated. It’s funny to think that he’s been gone a year and he’s not even there yet. It’ll be nice to see him again.”

Jed smiled and popped his brother’s hat up, then pushed it back down on his head. “Well, we’d better go eat. The airbus will be here in an hour.”

* * *

It was hard to say goodbye to his mother and father. They both masked their emotions as much as they could and smiled a lot, but he knew his mother wanted to cry because her eyes were damp and sparkled when the light hit them just right. Abraham Troyer, his father, shook his hand firmly, and then they all prayed together before Jed walked up the long drive to where the airbus would pick him up.

As he walked up, he thought about the journey, and what might lie before him. Jed couldn’t help but think about the Plain People who had first come to America to farm and tame the wilds of this Pennsylvania. When he reached the last bend in the drive, he turned slowly to look back at the farm, and his boots crunched the gravel as he rotated. A soft spring gust blew up through the paddock and past the split-rail fence, and it jostled the felt brim of his hat. The breeze carried the fragrance of foxglove and touch-me-not growing wild just outside the fence of the paddock, and the mingled scents—of the wildflowers, of soil, of horse manure and moist grass—framed for his memory the smell of home.

He froze for a moment when he saw the barn. That beautiful old barn. It had been the center of his life for most of his eighteen years. It was made of heavy stone two-thirds of the way up its height and then solid beams the rest of the way. The barn was more than two centuries old, and Jed knew that unless something bad happened to it, it would be standing there two hundred years hence. This Amish barn was constructed back when people built things with the future in mind. Back when people—even the English—thought about the generations to come, and built with the intention of blessing them. There was permanence to the Troyers’ old barn. In Jed’s mind it stood like a covenant between the ancestors and their progeny. In its Old World style it declared to the temporary society and impermanent culture around it that there had once been another way to live. Strangers in buses liked to tour these country roads just to see the old farms and barns and the Plain People going about their work in the fields. This old barn was definitely a favorite for the tourists due to its classical Amish design, but the structure did have one blemish.

He saw it up there near the top, on the window in the gabled end. The bottom-right pane of glass that wasn’t there. Jed had broken it accidentally with his slingshot four years ago. He’d been about Amos’s age when it happened, and his father had ordered him to “fix it.” So he’d fixed it, all right. What did a fourteen-year-old child know about fixing a window?

He’d found a coffee can—red with white printing, the old-timey kind—and had cut the can until he could stomp it flat. Measuring it out perfectly, he’d carefully snipped the can with metal shears until it fit where the glass pane had been; and now, there it was still, four years later. He’d expected his father to complain about it and to order a new pane of glass for the window, but for some reason the old patriarch thought that the whole thing was terribly funny. He laughed every time he looked up and saw it. He’d slap Jed on the shoulder and say, “Well, boy, your coffee can is staring down on us!”

He turned to finish his walk to the airbus stop. Maybe that coffee-can windowpane is part of the covenant too, he thought. Maybe in a hundred years, that coffee can will still be staring down from the height of the barn as a way of telling the world that it can change all it wants to, but, down deep, the people who live in this place will never change.

^{Chapter 2}

Departure

The airbus picked him up right on time. Leaving his family was tough, but he’d been raised to be practical, and was not as sentimental as other people he’d heard about… as the English. He loved his parents very much, and he couldn’t yet imagine or fully grasp that he would never see them again, but they all believed in heaven, and Jed’s father had told him that the same God who ran the earth also ran every other planet too, so he did have hope that they’d all meet again someday.

Amos would be following on behind him… he hoped. Jed worried that perhaps his little brother had been spoiled a little too much; that he might be overly emotional and unable to see the greater good in emigration and colonization. The younger boy wasn’t as learned in the nuances and eccentricities of Amish history as his older brother. Amos couldn’t imagine a sailing ship, but then, neither could any of the Plain People who’d fled Europe for the New World. Their hesitancy to embrace technology did not mean that they would avoid it to their own detriment. The forefathers boarded great ships that, to them, were every bit as odd and scary as this airbus, and they had crossed the seas to start anew in a wild and untamed land. There was nothing new under the sun.

The airbus flew smoothly and silently, and even the buffeting of the wind against the cabin was silenced by a system that emitted a type of white noise that altogether contradicted and eliminated the sounds of air travel. That was one thing that Jed appreciated about the airbus: the quiet of it. He’d only flown a few times before, and the silence of flight made it somewhat magical and surreal to him—a lot different than riding into New Holland being pulled in the buckboard by Reba and Jesse.

There was that one time he’d gone with his father to Cruville to bid on some land. They’d lost the bid, but that was the first time he’d flown on an airbus. Another time was when he and his father flew to Richmond for the hearings on whether the Plain People were going to be forced to get TRIDs. That was a trip that ended with a positive outcome. As a result of the Richmond Ruling, there were now two distinct airbus systems: one that operated within the AZ and served the Plain People; and another for the English.

This was a Plain People airbus, and in it, the Plain People could travel anywhere in the AZ without papers. There were four AZs in the North American Union, and Plain airbuses traveled between them non-stop. These buses didn’t require TRIDs, either. The Plain People weren’t marked with biometric TRIDs like the English were; the Richmond Ruling had seen to that.

Of course, if any passenger was heading out of the AZ, by law they had to stop at the Columbia checkpoint and get papers. And on any bus that stopped or took on passengers outside the Amish Zone, the Plain People had to have their papers with them at all times. If not, things would get bad for them.

* * *

Columbia was just like Jed remembered it. The hustle and bustle was disconcerting, and the city buzzed with a strange mixture of Plain People and the English. It was a place where two cultures met, and it was the last checkpoint for anyone traveling into or out of the Amish Zone.

The Transport station at Columbia ran smoothly and efficiently. Travel had been streamlined a lot since the wars. In general, people were more docile. Most of them were on the drug Quadrille and stayed online anytime they weren’t actually standing in front of a government official; and those who weren’t on the new drug, and who weren’t online, had learned that resistance and misbehavior didn’t pay. No one wanted to get sent to Oklahoma, and that was exactly what would happen to you if you got out of line anytime during transport.

The Amish travel advisor had warned Jed numerous times not to “mess up” during transport. Private transport had been almost uniformly outlawed since the end of the wars, and transport law was now rigid, inflexible, and merciless. The Transport Police were feared like no one else in the society.

Jed got in line for his papers, and there were only a dozen or so other Plain People in front of him. The English all had implanted TRIDs, and they just flowed through ticketing and security without having to stop at all.

When he reached the front of the line, Jed presented his emigration papers without saying a word. The customs worker, a pretty young woman, glanced through them with disinterest before stamping each of them with a transport code. Next, the woman smiled at him as she reached over and yanked out a few strands of his hair—without warning him—and placed them into a small glass tube, which she then filled with a bluish liquid. She asked him to roll up his sleeve, and she took a skin sample by scraping the dry skin on his elbow with a sharp tool. She caught the flakes of skin in a second tube which was also filled with a blue liquid. He was asked to look into some kind of eye machine, and there was a flash. Whatever the eye thing was (she didn’t explain), Jed knew that Transport was permitted to take material from the Plain People, but they couldn’t implant anything. No invasive procedures were allowed. The Richmond Ruling was ironclad and court-tested, and the Plain People had won their right, on the basis of their sincerely held religious beliefs, not to be implanted with any identifying devices or markers. Jed figured that the eye scan was some way of identifying him biometrically, much like the hair and skin samples. No one messed with fingerprints anymore. Those had become too easy to fake.

Other than politely barked instructions, the pretty customs lady made no idle chit-chat. A couple of times she looked up with just her eyes, as if she was sizing him up, but other than that she was going through her checklist almost robotically. She slid the two blue tubes and something in the form of a small plastic chip into a hard rubberized band and slid the band over Jed’s left hand, securing it on his wrist. Then she forced his hand into another machine, and he felt the band tighten on his wrist in a way that made it seem like it had been permanently attached, even while he could still feel that it didn’t hinder the flow of blood to his hand. Strange.

“Unilets?” the woman said with a smile. Not really a question, more of a statement. She stepped out from behind the computer desk for a moment, and as she did he saw her name tag. Dawn.

It took Jed a moment to understand what Dawn was asking. Money. The English now paid one another in unis, and his money had been converted for him when he’d picked up his approval papers. Unilets were originally designed to be a fair representation of time worked. Back when they were first introduced, after the wars, there was some computer algorithm that supposedly determined the value of unis day by day. Eventually, the original idea of unilets as a form of straight trade or barter of human work hours had been dropped, as everyone knew they would be co-opted by governments and banks.

Jed knew a lot about unis because the Plain People had considered accepting the currency early on, back when the new money system was just called LETS. The LETS were initially designed to be a local trade and barter system, and that was something Jed’s community could really appreciate. But the “wait and see” attitude of the Plain People had paid off once again. It didn’t take long before LETS were changed to unilets, and the Plain People chose not to participate in the system. Unilets were not accepted as money anywhere in the AZs.

Jed pulled the plastic card from the front pocket of his vest and handed it to the customs woman. She thanked him and waved the card in front of the monitor on her computer, and then she looked back and forth between his face and whatever now appeared on the screen. She sat staring at the computer for several minutes as if she were frozen in place. She didn’t press any keys, and her eyes didn’t scan back and forth like she was reading. She just stared blankly for a very long time.

Jed wondered if Dawn was on the Internet in her head. He didn’t know what else to call it. He wasn’t even really sure what an “Internet” was, except that it was how the English did everything on computers. Now they had some way to get this Internet in their head, and he’d seen the far-off, blank gaze in the faces of tourists before.

After what seemed to be an interminable wait, the customs woman stuck his plastic card into a slot and did some procedure on the computer, typing furiously for a few seconds. Satisfied at last that everything was good and ready to go, she again grabbed his wrist—the one with the black band on it—and flipped it over so it was facing her. She took the card out of the computer and touched it against the armband. A light blinked on the band, which apparently convinced the woman that his unilets were now resident on his band. She then let his wrist down onto the desktop and stared at the computer for a few more seconds.

“Yep,” she said. “You’re good to go now. Do you know how to use the band to buy things?

“Not really, ma’am.”

She smiled, and for the first time it was like a light went on in her mind that indicated to her that she was dealing with a real human. He smiled back, and he noticed that she even blushed a little. Maybe he did, too.

“Okay, well, the band has your unis in it,” she said. “Place the wrist portion against or near a charging station and the amount indicated on the charging window will be deducted from your total… got it?”

“I think so.”

“Any other questions?”

“Well… yes. Couldn’t somebody steal this plastic band and make off with all of my money… or, er… um… my unilets?”

“Nothing to worry about, sir. We’ve solved those problems long ago. The band can only be used when it’s touching your body, and only while you’re alive.” She nodded like this last part should make him feel more comfortable about carrying all of his money on his wrist. “The unique identifiers are digitized now, and the charging stations will scan your eyes and other biometric identifiers automatically to make sure it’s you that’s making the purchase and that you’re not under duress. So it’s totally safe. You have nothing to be concerned about, okay?”

“Okay.” It was all Jed could think of to say.

“Anything else?”

“Just… well… thank you, Dawn. Thank you very much, and… where do I catch the airbus for the next leg of the trip to New Pennsylvania?”

Dawn smiled again. This time there was another look in her eye. It was a far-off look that he couldn’t rightly quantify. Perhaps it was sadness, or maybe she felt sorry for him. He really wasn’t good at trying to figure out the motivations of the English, but she paused for just a moment, as if a thought, previously unconsidered, passed through her mind. Her smile tightened and she blinked before answering, and all of her mannerisms taken together gave him a weird feeling in his stomach.

“Make a right directly at the end of this counter. Down at the end of the concourse, turn to your left. Then to the end of that walkway and you’ll be at Gate 13. Okay?”

“Okay. And thanks.”

“No problem. Have a safe and prosperous trip, Jed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jed looked into her eyes one more time before he turned to leave, and again he saw a hint of sadness there, as if she were saying, “After you are all gone, what will become of us?” But maybe he was projecting his own thoughts into a woman who might not even really care.

* * *

There was a vending machine at Gate 13 that purportedly served food, but Jed had learned in his few journeys among the English that the term “food” could only be loosely applied to whatever came out of a machine. He was hungry though, and the brochure plainly instructed pilgrims to eat before boarding the airbus to the SGT station out in West Texas. There would be no food for nine years once he boarded this airbus! He thought about that for a moment and shook his head. To think, this machine food was going to be his last meal. Ech!

He selected a sandwich and a bowl of chicken soup, and noted that the two items would cost him a total of two thousand unis. Two thousand unis! For soup and a sandwich! It was difficult for him to do the conversion in his head, but he was pretty sure he could buy a new pair of work shoes for the equivalent of two thousand unis. He couldn’t find anything that was remarkably cheaper, so he tapped his wrist against the charging station on the right side of the glass, and the machine whirred into motion. As he leaned over to pull his meal tray from the slot in the machine, he noticed the computer screen above the slot.

Your charge: 2,000 Unilets

Your balance: 598,000 Unilets

598,000 Unilets! Wait a minute. That’s way too much. Something is wrong.

He tried to recall how the money system worked. After converting his AZ money into unis when he’d first picked up his transport orders, he’d had two hundred thousand unis for his trip. That was all. Two hundred thousand unis. No more. That was how much he’d brought with him. Now, for some reason, his uni account had just tripled! Maybe something is wrong with the machine. He looked up at the screen again, then glanced all around. His face flushed with embarrassment. He felt guilty for some reason, like maybe he’d stolen the extra unis. Balancing the tray with his right hand, he looked at his wristband to see if there was any readout that might tell him how many unis he really had. There was none… at least there wasn’t one that he knew about. He looked around again, and now he felt panic rise up in him; his heart began to beat faster. He felt sweat building up on his brow, and just as he turned around again, he saw Dawn walking quickly toward him.

She wasn’t smiling.

^{Chapter 3}

En Route

Most Plain People are used to feeling guilty when they’ve done nothing wrong. It’s part of the physiology and culture of being different. Usually this feeling only creeps up on them when they’re out among the English. There was something in the way the English looked at them that conveyed a sense of accusation. Even when tourists were smiling and pointing and saying “How cute!” and asking for pictures, or snapping them anyway while pretending not to, there was always a subtle covetousness in the way the English looked at the Plain People. Maybe it was something around the eyes, but the gist of it was that somehow life had been unfair, or maybe the Plain People had done some great wrong to have to live an unadorned life of simplicity. The whole thing was an insoluble enigma. Even though the English man or woman may not want to be plain—wouldn’t change places even if they could—there was still the communication of some want, or need… or blame that made the Plain People cringe inside. An elder had once called it “a criminal charge that comes through without words.”

Seated in the airbus, Jed was attuned to this feeling of guilt. The situation with Dawn and the extra unis was troubling enough, but now he was on an English airbus by himself for the first time, and the looks and stares from many of the English brought back that oppressive feeling of guilt that Jed could not explain, even to himself. The passengers who were on Quadrille or lost on the Internet in their minds didn’t pay him much heed. Others, not on the drug and not busy online, stared openly or secretly, usually one or the other, and always there was the wordless accusation… or maybe it was just a question… why?

One man with slicked-back hair—a young man Jed did not know and had never met—openly showed his disdain for Jed. Slicked-back had a sneer on his face, and whenever he caught Jed’s eye (which Jed studiously tried to avoid) he’d emphasize the sneer and demonstrably look Jed up and down with disgust. There was hatred in Slicked-back’s eyes, and this was not the first time that Jed had seen this attitude among the English. It made matters worse that seats on an airbus were arranged like those on an old subway, with passengers facing one another across an aisle. Slicked-back was across the aisle from him, but one seat over and to his right. Jed decided not to look at him, and he thought back to the incident with Dawn.

Back at the vending machine, when he’d been trying to grasp what was happening with the extra unis, the customs clerk named Dawn had approached him in a way that caused him to experience very real fear. Had he done something wrong?

When she was about five yards away, she’d reached into a pocket of her navy blue vest. Her eyes met his, and then she was extending her hand toward him. In her hand he could see his used electronic unilets card. He’d left it back at the desk. He didn’t think he needed it anymore. They were disposable, after all.

“You left this at the desk,” Dawn said, and now there was a forced smile on her face.

“I’m sorry… um… listen, I just…” Jed indicated with his head toward the vending machine, but Dawn cut him off before he could say anything about the extra unilets.

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him again and nodding her head, “that’s all right. Everything is as it should be now. Just take your card and make sure you don’t miss your bus.”

“But, I…”

“Yes, sir.” She raised her hands this time. “Everything is as it should be.” Her eyes grew wider, as if she were trying to tell him to shut up and just accept things the way they are. “Just take your card and go get on your bus, sir.”

“So…”

“Listen, sir. Everything is fine now. You needn’t worry about a thing. I’ve got to get back to the desk, but… everything is as it should be, so have a great trip.” She forced the card into his hand, and when she did, he noticed that she was handing him more than just the card. There was also a small, folded piece of paper, and something else. Something heavy. It felt like a large coin. He didn’t look at it.

Not knowing why he did it, but intimidated by the discussion and not sure what else to do, Jed put the card, paper, and coin into his pocket quickly and without argument. He looked up at Dawn and tried to smile, and he noticed that she smiled back. And then she turned and was striding back toward the check-in desk…

In the men’s restroom, he examined what Dawn had given him.

There was a note.

Don’t say anything about the extra unis to anyone. I can’t explain everything right now, but trust me. If you’re in trouble in the City, ask at Merrill’s Grocery Supply for Pook. Just ask for Pook. Put the gold coin in your shoe, and only pull it out in an emergency. There are no metal detectors anymore since bombs and guns won’t work on transport anyway. Unless you get searched, they won’t find it. Flush this note when you’re done memorizing it. Dawn.

Now he was on the airbus to West Texas, and he could feel the heaviness of the gold coin in his shoe, and somehow the extra unis in his wristband seemed to have an extra weight all their own as well. I feel guilty, Jed thought, and I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. Maybe I should tell someone about the unis and the gold? No. Getting caught with extra unis that don’t belong to you would mean automatic deportation. If he did something stupid, he’d never make it to New Pennsylvania. How was he to know what was stupid in this world? For all he knew, everything he did was stupid. He began to imagine the Transport Police storming into the airbus to haul him off and send him to exile in Oklahoma.

Despite Jed’s best attempts to put them out of his mind, crazy ideas started to flood over him. Maybe I can spend them all at the SGT station when I get there… maybe I can give all the extra unis away… maybe a Quadrille dealer will sell me some drugs and then I can flush them all down the toilet like I did with Dawn’s note… None of his ideas were workable, and most of them would get him deported. It wasn’t a far trip from West Texas to Oklahoma. Not far at all.

* * *

The airbus floated silently through the air, and Jed tried to occupy his mind by looking out the window at the ground way below. The polarized windows and the altitude combined to make the view seem not… quite… right. But he’d never been this high before, so he wasn’t sure how things were supposed to look.

Every now and then, looking down, he could see scars on the earth—remnants from the wars—and at one point they passed over what used to be a great city, but from thousands of feet in the air it looked like it was now a massive pile of burned rubble and debris. He wondered why people hadn’t fixed up the cities again in the dozens of years that had passed since the wars. Maybe they left everything destroyed like that just to remind everyone how bad the wars had been, and so that the people would be thankful to the Transport Authority and the government for keeping everyone safe and secure.

“Hey, little Amish boy, you ever been up this high before?”

It was Slicked-back, and he spewed the words, giving the impression that he really didn’t care what the answer might be.

“No, sir,” Jed replied.

“Yeah, I think it’s funny that you Amish get to travel and fly and do everything the rest of us get to do… only you don’t have to live by the same rules as everyone else.” As he said this, he pointed at Jed’s wristband and snorted. He looked around as if everyone else agreed with him, but most of the other passengers seemed to be on the Internet in their heads.

Jed didn’t know what playing by the rules had to do with them being up this high, but he figured that Slicked-back was only looking for trouble and a reason to spew. Jed just ignored him and looked out the window.

“That’s not very polite, Amish boy. I’m talkin’ to you. How come you people don’t have to get implanted TRIDs like everyone else? What makes you so special?” He was raising his voice now, and a few of the other passengers looked over, interrupting their music or videos or chats to see what was going on right there on their own bus.

Jed hadn’t noticed it, but when Slicked-back began his little rant, a large Hispanic man sitting toward the back of the bus had gotten up, and during the one-sided conversation had been walking forward up the aisle. Now Jed noticed him, and he wondered if this giant of a man was going to give him grief too.

Just as Slicked-back finished his last little broadside, the big Hispanic man leaned over to Slicked-back and spoke to him clearly and concisely.

“Do you want to get sent to Oklahoma?”

“What’re you, a Transport cop?” Slicked-back said with a snarl.

“No, friend, but we’re about to be over Oklahoma, and if you’d like me to throw you out of one of these windows, then you keep bothering my friend.”

Slicked-back didn’t reply; he just kicked his feet across the aisle and pushed himself back in his seat. The big man smiled and nodded his head.

“That’s right, little man. Now I’m going to talk to my friend. You should take some Q and chill out so that you don’t make any permanent mistakes.” He stepped over to take the seat next to Jed, but before he did he leaned back over Slicked-back’s face and whispered to him. Slicked-back didn’t respond, but he slowly drew his legs back so that they weren’t blocking the aisle.

* * *

“I’m sorry that some people feel the need to attack things they don’t understand,” the big man said. “I’m Jerry Rios.” Jerry stuck out his hand and Jed instinctively clasped it with his own.

“Jed. Jedediah Troyer. But you can just call me Jed.”

“Okay, Jed. Glad to know you,” Jerry said with a smile and a nod. He sat down next to Jed and crossed his long legs.

“What did you whisper to that guy as you walked by?” Jed asked.

“I told him that if his legs were still across the aisle when I walk back to my seat, that I’d remove them and feed them to him.”

“Apparently he believed you,” Jed said as he looked over at Slicked-back.

“It’s good that he did,” Jerry replied somberly. “I don’t make idle threats.”

Jed looked at Jerry to see how serious the young man was. He was serious.

“Anyway,” Jed said, “there’s no eating on the bus.”

Jerry broke down laughing and eventually Jed joined him. Slicked-back just looked up at them and grunted his displeasure.

^{Chapter 4}

Among the English

Jerry was a little older than Jed, maybe in his mid-twenties, and he looked like someone who was not to be messed with. Talking to Jed though, he was personable and friendly, and the younger man was happy that Jerry had been there on the bus when Slicked-back decided to get aggressive.

“Where’re you headed?” Jerry asked.

“I’m a pilgrim. I’m traveling to our colony in New Pennsylvania to live.”

“Well then!” Jerry replied, smiling broadly. “We’ll almost be neighbors. I’m heading to New PA too, but I’m heading to the City. I’m not a country boy.”

Jed stared at Jerry for a minute and blinked several times before he could answer.

“Um… Oh. Uh, I didn’t know… that the English… I mean—”

Jerry laughed heartily. “Hey man, don’t worry about it. I know that your people call all of us outsiders the English. It’s just strange for me to hear, because I’m as far from English as a man can get!”

“I’m sorry, Jerry. What I meant was that I didn’t know that any… non Plain People… were also colonizing New Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, sure! You didn’t think they were going to let you people have the whole planet, did you? Besides, someone has to eat all of that food your people produce!” Jerry laughed again in a friendly way, and Jed was compelled by Jerry’s gregarious manner to laugh along with him.

“I guess I just never thought about it,” Jed said. “In my world, we only talk about the colony that our people are starting there, so I just never considered that there would be others.”

“Well, if you look around, Jed, you’ll see that you’re the only Amish guy on this bus, and I’d guess that most of us are going to West Texas SGT so that we can catch our transport to New PA. That should tell you that there are probably going to be a lot more of us there than there will be of you.”

“I guess it’s always that way.”

“Well, from what I hear, it won’t be bad,” Jerry said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve read a lot about the colonization process, and it seems that there’s plenty of land and countryside to go around. They say that New PA is almost the same size as Earth, with similar gravity, weather, and all that stuff as this planet, so I figure with such a tiny population, there’ll be plenty of room to stretch your legs… without having to block the aisle.” Jerry winked again and glanced over at Slicked-back. The man was obviously on the Internet in his head now, because he just stared blankly into the distance and hardly moved at all.

Jed looked sheepishly over at Jerry before speaking. He wasn’t sure how exactly to ask what he wanted to ask, but now that he had an honest-to-goodness English fellow here to talk to, he felt like he should take advantage of the education.

“So… how do I say this… you don’t look like you’re on Quadrille or on the Internet in your head.” Jed smiled a little. He thought that he’d made it sound like the Plain People believed that all English were on Quadrille and the Internet all the time. He wanted his interrogation to be taken as benevolent, and he wasn’t sure whether he’d said it right. Jerry didn’t seem to be offended.

“Oh, Jed… I don’t mess with that stuff. But I’m unique in this world. When I need to, I get on the Internet the old-fashioned way. I’d walk down to the IntSta—the Internet Station—near our house a couple of times a week to check email. Frankly, I don’t know why they even have the IntStas any more. No one uses them, except a few weirdos like me. Even the ultra-poor have the BICE… do you know what that is?”

Jed shook his head.

“The BICE is the Beta Internet Chip Enhancement. That’s what you call ‘the Internet in the head.’” Jed noticed Jerry looking at him, and his new friend saw the confusion on Jed’s face, but Jed nodded anyway as he tried to keep up.

“Listen, Jed. I’m sorry to be using all of this stupid technology jargon with you. I know your people don’t use too much of it. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, please. I’m fascinated, and I mean to learn all that I can. I just have to slow down a bit and try to understand it all. I think I’m getting it. There are so many terms to learn. I just got the hang of a whole new vocabulary just for this trip, so you can correct me if I’m wrong on any of this stuff. I studied a lot before I left home. I know that TRIDs are Transfer IDs. I know that unilets are your kind of invisible money.” He was now counting off the terms with his fingers. “Hey, and I even know that the term unilets comes from what was once called the LETS, which meant Local Exchange Trading System. Then, when the UN took over the money system after the wars, it became UNILETS for United Nations International Local Exchange Trading System. Now, thanks to you, I know that the Internet in the head thing is called BICE, and the Internet that is not in your head is at a place called an IntSta.”

“You’re doing okay, Jed!” Jerry said, slapping him playfully on the back. “Now I hope you’ll get to your colony at New PA and forget all about this nonsense out here in this world. Especially the TRIDs and the BICE and the unilets. Those are just people-control systems. After the wars, everyone was willing to give up whatever freedom they had left just to stop the violence. So now we have TRIDs and unilets… and they have this stupid BICE system that ties it all together so that the power apparatus can control everything down to the minutest detail. It won’t be long and the BICE will be mandatory, just like the TRIDs and unilets. I hate the unilets system.”

“Why do you hate it?” Jed asked.

“Unis are now just an international currency, governed and regulated by corporations and the international banks. The great wars, which were caused by the collapse of national banks, drove everyone—everyone but you Plain People, that is—to conclude that the only way to prevent massive swings in the values of currency and markets was to have a centrally regulated form of money. The unilet became that currency. In the end, the mechanism designed by so-called “patriots” to free people from the grip of the banking cartels became the tool used to codify and deify the single currency as the de facto monetary unit of the whole world.”

Jerry looked around, leaned into Jed, and whispered conspiratorially. “That’s why I’m going to New PA, buddy. When I get there, I’m getting my TRID removed. Heck, I might even try to get into the AZ to visit you there. Maybe I’ll even convert and become one of you!”

Jed laughed. He really didn’t think that Jerry was serious, and as the big man turned to glance out the window, the smile kind of faded slowly until his face communicated more of a wistful look than anything else. The look reminded Jed of Dawn.

* * *

“In Europe, a long time ago, our people were persecuted horribly. But after a war, or when some king somewhere discovered that his people were nearing starvation, he would open wide the doors of his lands for our people to come in. We’ve always been prized for our industry and hard work and productivity. For a time, we’d be given tolerance and protection… and things would remain that way until our numbers would multiply, and the people, no longer starving, would grow angry at our successes, and then the kings would banish us, or allow us to be persecuted again to the point where we would have to flee. Then we’d be off to homestead in some other land. There was always another king somewhere with land who wanted us to come and work the ground in his kingdom.”

Jerry sat and listened intently. They’d arrived at the SGT Transport Facility in the desert of Loving County, Texas, and now they were sitting in the gate area waiting for their turn in Medical. Medical was their last checkpoint before they could board their ship for New Pennsylvania.

“And now the newest new world is a whole other planet!” Jerry said. He whistled softly and shook his head. “I guess some things never really change, do they?”

“Jerry Rios!” The name crackled out of the speakers and frightened everyone in the waiting room. Most of the people had the BICE, so there was no need to actually call those people’s names over the loudspeakers. With the Internet chip in their heads, an alert would indicate to them that a medical station was opened and waiting for them. For the Plain People, and those few like Jerry who didn’t have a BICE implant, the old-fashioned building-wide announcement was used.

“Jerry Rios to Medical, please. Jerry Rios.”

Jerry stood and reached over to shake Jed’s hand. “I guess this is where we part ways, Jed. We probably won’t see one another again until we disembark at New PA. They take us straight from Medical to our pod, so… I guess this is it. Have a great trip, buddy, and I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Okay, Jerry. Thanks for the nice conversation.” Jed squeezed his hand and smiled. “I hope you have a great trip too, and Lord willing, we’ll talk when we get to New Pennsylvania.”

Jed sat back down as Jerry hurried off toward the main desk. Most of the people had already gone through their checkup and preparation at Medical, and only a few travelers were left in the waiting area. Slicked-back had been one of the first ones called, over an hour ago, and Jed was glad about that.

Jed hadn’t had the opportunity to see everyone who was going to be on the trip. The SGT station was a confusing and cavernous facility, and people were seated all over the place. Without access to the Internet queue, to Jed it looked like people would just randomly stand up and head off to Medical, and while he’d been talking to Jerry, maybe two-thirds of the passengers had loaded onto the ship without him even noticing. Now, there were only a few travelers left in the waiting room.

“Jedediah Troyer! Jedediah Troyer to Medical, please. Jedediah Troyer.”

* * *

Jed was poked and prodded and tested, but, all in all, the process proceeded quite rapidly. The only painful part was when a catheter was inserted into his bladder. He wasn’t sure if that process violated the Richmond Ruling, but the doctors explained to him that it was necessary in order to be able to drain his liquid waste during the trip. He didn’t understand every word they said, but it seemed pretty straightforward. After the catheter was installed, he was given a large glass of an orange liquid, and he was told to drink it all down. This was supposed to “clean him out” for the trip, they explained.

Next, a woman came in and went through everything that was going to happen on the trip, explaining basically the same information that had been on the brochures Jed had read, only this briefing was a little more in-depth.

She explained that he was going to be placed in “suspended animation.” The trip was going to take nine years in Earth time. He would only age a week or so during the duration of the voyage, but it would seem like he’d slept for only a few hours. There should be no long-term health effects. The one thing she emphasized several times was that he could not return. She made certain that he understood that fact.

When the woman was finished briefing him, she asked if he had any questions. He could feel the orange drink working on him, and he had the urge to go to the bathroom, but he felt like he needed to wait to see what would come next. He said he didn’t have any questions, so she smiled and stood to leave. Just as she reached the door, she turned to him and said, “I’m sure you need to use the restroom, so go ahead. It’s right through that door. Someone else will meet you when you come out.”

Jed nodded his head but didn’t spend long saying goodbye. He really needed to go. He rushed into the bathroom, and there he determined that when the Transport authorities told you some drink was going to empty you out for a long voyage, they weren’t kidding around.

* * *

After Jed was done doing his business, he washed his hands and paused to look in the mirror. This was something he’d rarely done in his life. His people didn’t generally believe in having mirrors around the house. Mirrors tended to vanity, he was told. But now he really looked at himself, and maybe it was for the very first time.

At eighteen years old, he was a sturdy young man. Handsome enough. He noticed that he looked like a very young version of his father. His hair was dirty blond where it stuck out beneath his black hat, and he was shaved because he wasn’t married yet. He was lean and strong from all the hard work on the farm, and he knew that there would be even harder work ahead of him if he was going to be successful in building his own place in New Pennsylvania. Looking at himself in the mirror, he nodded his approval. He knew he’d make it work, no matter what happened next.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Jed was met by two stern-looking men who appeared to be very official. One of the men, the taller one, wore the uniform of the Transport Police. The shorter one was the one who spoke to him.

“Mr. Troyer, my name is Hugh Conrad, and I’m with the Transport Authority. This is Officer Rheems of the TP. You’re under arrest for insurrectionist discussions and terroristic intent based on conversations you had with Mr. Jerry Rios aboard the airbus that brought you here. We have the whole conversation recorded. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

^{Chapter 5}

Sleep

Jed felt the gold coin pressing into the ball of his foot, and the feeling that he’d been doing something terribly wrong made it hard for him to focus on what the TP officer was saying to him.

Every five minutes or so, a small box up near the ceiling in the room would spray a fine mist into the air. The air smelled of artificial flowers and sweet chemicals, and Jed wondered if perhaps this was some aerosolized version of Quadrille, used to make arrested persons more compliant. He didn’t know, and not knowing made him feel even worse. Everything in the office was plastic and metal and temporary, and Jed contrasted it with the essence of permanence he’d experienced back at his family’s farm.

Officer Rheems of the Transport Police commanded Jed to “remove his shoes and any articles of jewelry” and place them in the rubber bin under his chair. He slipped off his shoes and made sure to tip them forward so that the gold coin in the right one would slide unnoticed toward the toe. He placed the shoes into the bin and then folded his hands on his lap. He wore no jewelry or other personal adornment of any kind. He didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen to him. He was nervous. He was frightened. For the first time that he could remember in all of his life, he felt fully powerless and exposed.

Rheems ordered him to stand up and put his hands on the opposite wall, and a thorough pat-down search commenced, adding to Jed’s sense that he was some kind of criminal and that he was, therefore, doomed.

“Sit back down in the chair,” Rheems said. The Transport cop looked over to the other man, Conrad, and nodded his head to indicate that the search had been completed.

Conrad glared at him coldly. Jed could detect no human feeling or care or empathy coming from the man. This was a man who did everything by the book, and it was obvious that he didn’t let anything—emotions, mercy, kindness—affect his decisions.

“Jed Troyer, son, you are charged with a felony count of insurrectionist discussions with terroristic intent. You are not only charged, but you are already convicted, by the way.” Conrad walked around the desk and stood in front of Jed. “Once you left the AZ and boarded official Transport, you were no longer protected under the Richmond Ruling, and you’ve waived all rights as a Plain Person in order to travel out of the AZ. Every individual who boards and engages official Transport agrees to waive any right they have to an attorney, to a trial by jury, et cetera. They also agree to submit themselves to the absolute judgment of the Transport Authority. That’s us. You signed a document agreeing to what I’ve just laid out for you, and now you’ve been found to be in violation of Transport law. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“I don’t think so, sir. I don’t understand what I’ve done that was wrong,” Jed said.

“You engaged in a public conversation where blatant violations of law were discussed and planned. Specifically, traveler Jerry Rios, who is now in custody as well, discussed with you in detail his intention, upon his arrival in New Pennsylvania, to remove his TRID implant—which would be a felony—and then to escape and illegally join you in the AZ there. Do you deny these charges?”

“I don’t deny that he said these things. I didn’t say them, or agree with them though.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, even if you denied it. It doesn’t matter if you said anything or agreed or disagreed. Failure to report insurrectionist activities immediately to Transport authorities is evidence of criminal conspiracy. We have the whole conversation recorded, and you have waived your right to trial. You’ve been declared guilty, and now it just remains for us to decide what to do with you.” Conrad looked over at Rheems, then stared back at Jed with hostility in his eyes.

“Am I going to be sent to Oklahoma?” Jed asked. That was the worst thing he could think of, so he figured he’d get right to the point. He wanted to look the thing square in the face if that was what was going to happen to him. Nobody wanted to be sent into exile in Oklahoma… and exile was the punishment of choice for Transport crimes. The horror stories about Oklahoma were widely believed to be true. Exile was tantamount to the death penalty.

“Well, that’s what we need to determine, Jed. Normally it would be an automatic thing. In fact, historically we would have taken you and Rios off of your airbus and put you directly on a prison airbus to Oklahoma.”

Jed didn’t know what to say to that. The fact that the normal response to his crime had not been followed gave him hope that he might still avoid permanent exile in the wastelands, where he would be helpless among the society’s worst criminals. He just stared back at Rheems, not wanting to say anything that might make his case worse.

“But…” Conrad said, exhaling heavily, “there are some problems going on in the exile lands right now, and we can’t get any Transport vehicles in or out. So we have to decide what to do with you and Rios short of just casting you into Oklahoma.”

* * *

Jed spent the next thirty minutes squirming in his chair. Rheems looked up from his work occasionally and scowled whenever Jed would inadvertently bang his knee against the desk or knock his elbow against the chair next to him. The area where the catheter had been placed itched and irritated him, and he kept imagining the ship leaving for New Pennsylvania without him. Conrad had, according to Rheems, “gone to see the magistrate,” whatever that meant, and Jed was left to cool his heels, hanging perilously between the possibility of being exiled for life to Oklahoma, and some other fate he could not even imagine.

When Conrad returned to the security office, he didn’t waste any time letting Jed know that his fate had been determined.

“Okay, get up. Get your shoes on. Looks like you got really lucky. You’re going on your trip. The magistrate has decided to send you on to New Pennsylvania and remand your case over to the court there. We’re not allowed to hold you here indefinitely, and we can’t get any form of transport into the exile lands, so grab whatever belongs to you and let’s get you on your ship.”

Jed slipped on his shoes, and when he stood up, Hugh Conrad was standing only inches from him. The older man leaned in toward him in a way that seemed threatening. Jed wondered if the man had somehow seen the gold coin in his shoe. No. There’s no way he could have seen it.

“Be glad you’ll be asleep all the way to New PA, pal,” Conrad said. “That way you can’t get yourself into any more trouble.”

The remainder of the boarding process passed in a flash compared to the torture of waiting in the security office to learn of his fate. As Jed walked into the ship, his heart pounded and his palms grew clammy and damp. An attendant, seeing that he was nervous, led him to his pod and helped him to settle in. The pods on this level were aligned not unlike the benches on the airbus that brought him to West Texas. Rather than rudimentary seats, however, the pods themselves were egg-shaped cocoons with heavy lids that could be closed once the passenger was lying inside and the takeoff process was about to begin. Each pod lid had a large glass window embedded in it so that the passengers who chose the active monitoring option could be checked regularly during the duration of the flight. Jed thought it strange that there were Transport employees who would make the flight in Earth time and, other than the regular kind of daily sleep, would remain awake for the entire voyage. This meant that they were giving up almost a decade of their lives to the one interstellar flight that they would ever make. It’s a good thing these flights are subsidized, Jed thought. No one could afford the trip otherwise.

Jed’s ticket had cost him five hundred thousand unis. He expected that he might have to spend another two hundred thousand in transit. Converted back into Amish money, a man couldn’t even build a really good barn for that amount of money.

Before receiving the extra unis from Dawn, Jed had always figured he’d be broke upon arriving in New Pennsylvania, just like his ancestors had been when they first came to America. His land, if he qualified, would eventually be free. He was planning to live and work with his boyhood friend Matthias until he could build his own place. The Plain People took care of their own, so he knew if he could ever get to the AZ on his new planet, he’d be taken care of.

The nurse hooked up his life-support system, attached a tube to his catheter, and typed on some kind of computer screen that was built into the wall of the pod. Jed heard a beep, and then he felt a slight buzz of vibration emanating from the band on his wrist. He looked up at the nurse with a look of concern on his face, and she smiled back at him.

“That’s just to indicate that your account has been charged the additional one hundred thousand unis to pay for active monitoring. You chose this option when you paid for your ticket, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, good. We’ll leave the lid open until we’re just about ready to take off. Whenever you’re set to go under, press the blue button near your right hand and you’ll be out in less than a minute. A lot of people choose to go under immediately. I think it eliminates the short period of worry that people have at the beginning of any journey, and it makes the flight seem shorter to them. So, whenever you’re ready, just hit the button, and when you open your eyes again, you’ll be in New Pennsylvania!”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He looked up at her, and he knew that the worry that he felt was not only his concern about being turned over to the courts when he got to his new home planet. Deep inside of him, perhaps unrecognized and unexamined until now, was a fear that the ship would never get to New Pennsylvania at all.

That’s why he’d paid for active monitoring, even though the Amish colonization agent had advised him against it. He felt safer knowing that someone who was awake would check on him regularly to make sure nothing had gone wrong with his life-support system. Maybe doing it had showed a lack of faith, but it definitely made him feel better about the trip.

“Ma’am… have you or the pilots… well… have any of you done this before?”

The nurse laughed. “No. No one on this flight has ever done this before, sir. It’s a one-way flight, remember?”

“Yes. I suppose.”

“Don’t worry now. It’s as safe a trip as Transport, with all their technology and expertise, can make it. Everything is run by computers anyway. You’ll open your eyes and it’ll feel like you’ve just had a good night’s rest, and we’ll be there.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

“No problem. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you on the other side.”

The nurse walked away, and as she did, Jed tapped his toe and remembered that the gold coin was still in his shoe. He knew he was still going to be in trouble when… if… he ever made it to New Pennsylvania, and he didn’t want to add to his crimes.

Without taking much time to think about it or debate with himself, he leaned forward and removed the coin from his shoe. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him, but everyone he could see was either already unconscious, or was busy preparing for the flight. He felt around under his chair with his right hand, and he found a tight joint between the chair pad and the frame. He pressed the gold coin into the gap and felt around the joint with his finger to make sure the coin didn’t stick out where it might be seen by a nurse checking on him during the long years of flight.

Moments later, he was glad he’d taken the coin out of his shoes. The same attendant came back through the level and asked everyone for their shoes. She took each pair and placed it in a spring-loaded box that was attached to the base of each pod. When she took Jed’s shoes, she smiled at him and said, “There now, you look better already!”

He watched as she finished out the level and then disappeared through a curtain.

Lying there, he couldn’t figure out a reason to stay awake any longer. He was already sick with worry, and he knew if he decided to lie there awhile, he’d fret about what was going to happen to him when the flight was over.

He took a deep breath, and images of his brother Amos and his mother and father flashed through his mind. As he reflected on them, he reached down with his right hand again and pressed the blue button. He almost immediately felt a cool sensation enter his veins, and the effect was startling, although strangely pleasant. As he lay back against the soft padding of the seat and turned his head to his right, he began to experience the strong narcotic effect of whatever medication was now coursing through him. He’d never experienced any drug—had never taken Quadrille. The sensation was bizarre.

Just before his eyes closed, he noticed a face in the pod next to him that was looking back at him with a smile. His eyes fluttered and he tried to concentrate, but the darkness was coming and he couldn’t fight it off. He knew the face, but the name was slow in coming, and it occurred to him only just as the lights went out.

Dawn.

^{Chapter 6}

Sleep

Coming out of suspended animation was as remarkable as going into it. Some level of consciousness returned quickly, but Jed remained in a state of torpor for a while as synapses, long unused, began to fire again. He didn’t know where he was or what was going on, but he knew who he was, and this knowledge was the substantive thread he first grasped as he came out of his long sleep.

The cold in his veins was replaced by a slow, expanding feeling of warmth and well-being. To Jed, it seemed like he stayed in this middling state of consciousness for hours, but in reality it was only minutes. He heard the pod lid release, and then there was a sound of gas or air escaping as the lid rose automatically and light flooded in around him. That was when he noticed that a recording was playing in his ears, and he instantly knew that the recording was repeating. He’d heard it before, only now it was actually passing through his conscious mind.

…the ship. Everyone must stop at Medical for a release before entering the station. Do not be alarmed. The process of reanimation is proceeding normally. You will feel confused, lightheaded, and weak at first, but normal function will return quickly. Your muscles have been continuously stimulated during your voyage, and will function normally after a period of acclimation. After a short episode of reorientation, you will begin to be able to feel and move normally. Take your time exiting your pod. When you do exit, you will find Medical on your left as you disembark the ship. Everyone must stop at Medical for a release before entering the station. Do not be alarmed. The process…

* * *

Jed closed his eyes tightly and flexed his neck, turning his head from side to side. He was doing an inventory of his body, and as he did he felt his mind begin to warm and his consciousness grow. He remembered where he was and what he was doing. When he opened his eyes, he saw a face looking down on him, and he had to blink a few times for the face to come into some semblance of clarity. A name formed in his thoughts again, and he realized it was the last name he remembered before falling asleep… Dawn.

Dawn gazed down at him with a concerned look on her face before looking from left to right, as if she were in a hurry.

“Hurry up, Jed. We have to go,” Dawn said.

“Uh… I…” he sputtered.

“Shut up. We don’t have time for you to wake up and figure it out. We have to get out of here before everyone comes to.” She reached into his pod and removed his waste tube from his catheter.

“We’ll have to get that catheter out later,” she said as she typed on the screen on the wall of his pod. When she finished, she started pulling him by his arm to get him moving.

“I…”

“Jed. Don’t talk. You’re in danger. We’re all in danger. We have to get out of here. Just do what I say and don’t ask questions, okay?”

He stared at her, not knowing what he should think or do.

Dawn put a finger in his face. “If we’re still standing here in two minutes, you will be arrested and you will never, ever make it to the AZ. Do you understand me?”

Jed blinked.

“I am the only hope you have of getting out of here and getting home. So put on your shoes and let’s go!”

He struggled to pull his shoes on his feet, and Dawn didn’t give him enough time to lace them up. She pulled him by his arm and pushed him ahead of her until his feet started to cooperate with his brain. Pins and needles in his legs, arms, hands and feet gave him the first signs that life was returning to his extremities. Dawn continued to push and pull him, but after a few steps, he stopped and bent over at the waist. A deep, diaphragmatic cough shook him to his core, and a blackish-gray, gelatinous mass worked its way out of his lungs and mouth and was deposited on the floor.

“That’s actually not uncommon,” Dawn said, then reasserted herself by pulling him by both his arm and shoulder. He picked up the pace and soon his legs were carrying him along without Dawn having to do most of the work.

“Medical,” he said through another cough.

“What?” Dawn replied.

“I’m supposed to stop in Medical.” He pulled up as if to stop, but Dawn grabbed him again, shaking her head.

“If you stop at Medical, you’ll never be a free man again. Do you understand me? We have to get out of here!”

They exited the long tunnel that led from the ship to the gates and concourse. As they hustled along, Jed noticed that the terminal looked identical to the one in Columbia, where he’d met Dawn before flying to West Texas. Identical. Only older. As they ran, he noticed that the gate area was unmanned, and the whole facility gave off the impression that it was nearly, but not quite, abandoned. It was as if a war were raging in and around the place, and only a few functions still remained. Some lights hung by wires overhead, and here and there the bench seats were pushed out of line or were turned over completely.

Jed looked over his shoulder as they ran, and he noticed the sign that hung at a crooked angle over the counter at the gate.

Gate 13.

They ran past where, back in Columbia—back on Earth—he’d purchased the soup and sandwich, but there was no vending machine in this terminal.

* * *

He was beginning to breathe heavily from the exertion, and was still struggling with his equilibrium. Dawn kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him as they ran. They rounded another corner, and in the distance Jed could see the check-in area, and beyond that, the entry doors. He was shocked at how similar this terminal was to the one back on Earth. Maybe they had the same people build it, he thought.

Dawn pulled him into a small administrative alcove, and he bent over to put his hands on his knees and draw in deep breaths of the stale air. Alien air. I’m on another planet, he thought. I guess I’m the alien, though.

“I hope you guys aren’t planning on blowing this popsicle stand without me,” a voice said, and Dawn snapped to attention.

The man whose voice they heard was just rounding the corner to enter the alcove when Dawn stepped forward and drove her elbow surprisingly hard into the man’s face.

The man was big. Very big. He dropped to one knee and his hand came up to his face. Dawn braced herself against the wall and kicked hard at his head, but this time he was ready and he caught her leg and tossed her easily to the ground.

“What is wrong with you, lady?” the man said. He was bleeding from his nose, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus through his blurry vision. When his hand dropped from his face, Jed recognized him. It was Jerry Rios.

Dawn was back on her feet and Jed could tell that she was ready to resume her attack, but he stepped in between her and Jerry and put his hands up, palms out, to convince her to stop.

“This is my friend,” he said. “This is Jerry. He was arrested at the same time I was back in West Texas.”

Dawn lowered her hands and rolled her eyes. She exhaled deeply, pursed her lips and shook her head before stepping past both Jed and Jerry to sneak a look back down the concourse to see if anyone was coming or had seen them.

“You guys were never in West Texas,” she said. “Are you ready?”

* * *

Dawn spoke matter-of-factly, with no hesitation or indication that she might have second thoughts. “Okay, from here on in we walk. Do not run. Walk quickly and act like you belong here.” As she talked, Dawn examined the flat muscled area above her elbow that she’d used to hit Jerry in the face. Seeing that there were no lacerations, she rubbed it before looking back up. Jerry watched her do this and snarled as he checked his own nose to see if it was broken.

“Sorry about that,” Dawn said.

“Sure,” Jerry replied.

“Okay, pay attention,” she continued. “If anyone says anything to you or asks you to stop, you keep walking. Mutter something like you don’t understand them, but keep walking. We’re looking for a man named Donavan. Do not stop until we run into Donavan. Any other name on the tag, I don’t care who it is, you do not stop! Got it?”

“Donavan,” Jerry said. “Got it.”

Before Jed could say “Got it,” which he dearly wanted to say, Dawn had already turned the corner and was gone. Jerry and Jed had to walk hurriedly to catch up with her.

“We’re going to turn left up here,” she said, “then another quick left through a doorway. Someone will probably say something to us there, but keep walking.”

“How do you know all of this?” Jed asked.

“I’ve been here before.”

They turned to the left, and then Dawn headed immediately toward a door marked Staff Only. The door had a push bar release, and just as Dawn punched open the door, Jed heard a voice to his right say “Wait a minute!” Jed scampered through the door and saw that Dawn and Jerry had turned right after entering the hallway, and were walking at a fast clip toward another distant door.

Jed heard the door swing open behind him, then footsteps. Voices, one male and one female, shouted, “Sir! Sir! I need you to stop!” Jed didn’t stop. He caught up with Jerry and Dawn and he could hear the footfalls behind him speeding up and they were catching him just as the trio of travelers reached the far door.

“Sir! All of you! All three of you! We’re going to need you to stop and come back to the desk!”

A hand reached up and grabbed Jed by the shoulder just as the door swung open and a uniformed man stepped through. Donavan was on the man’s nametag.

Donavan recognized Dawn and looked past Jed toward the two staff members who had just reached him.

“Okay, you two. Back to work. I’ll take care of this. Thank you for your diligence,” Donavan said with authority.

“But sir!”

“Back to work. I’ll take care of this.”

Before Jed could fully process what was going on, the three had been shuffled past the second door and they were walking through a heavily fortified parking lot toward a waiting Transport Authority minivan.

* * *

“You barely made it, Dawn,” Donavan said. He guided the vehicle through a maze of heavy concrete barricades, and Jed could hear distant explosions. Fantastic beams of light sped by overhead like ethereal shots fired from nearby cannon, and when the explosions were close, the ground would shake, and night turned into day all around them. “And I was expecting two of you, not three. This’ll cost you more.”

“How much more?” Dawn asked.

“I don’t know. Seven total.”

“Seven hundred thousand unilets? Have you lost your mind?”

“I could take you back and you can work it out with Transport… if that’s what you want.”

Dawn was quiet for a few beats. “We’ll make it work… somehow,” she replied.

An explosion off to the right, on the other side of the concrete barricade, shook the van violently. Jed looked at Jerry, and with their eyes they asked one another, What have we gotten into?

“How many unilets do you have left?” Dawn asked Jed under her breath.

“Let me see,” he said. “Five hundred ninety-eight thousand… minus the one hundred thousand from the flight… Four hundred ninety eight thousand. And that will make me completely broke.”

“We’re all broke,” Dawn whispered to him. Then she gestured toward Donavan. “He just doesn’t know that unis will be worthless real soon.”

“I have just a bit over one hundred thousand unis,” Jerry added.

Dawn reached forward and tapped Donavan on the shoulder. “Six!” she said loudly. “We have six. You’ll have to take that, Donavan. It’s all we can get.”

“Six? You’re kidding me, right? The price was three for one person, and you want me to move three people for six? What do you think this is, some cut-rate BICE shop?”

“They’ll only have to cut two of us, Donavan. The Plain kid doesn’t have an implant.”

“I only have a TRID, not a BICE,” Jerry added. He looked at Jed and shrugged. He didn’t know if it would help in the negotiations, but it couldn’t hurt.

Donavan shook his head and pounded the console with his hand.

“Unbelievable. So now you have me doing discount hack work! Okay. Okay. Listen, lady. I’m going to do it, but you owe me, do you hear me, Dawn? You owe me big!”

“Okay! Sheesh. Settle down, Donavan. You’re making six for driving us a few blocks. Think of it that way.”

This little response inflamed Donavan all the more. “Driving you a few blocks? Driving you a few blocks? Is that what you think this is? I just secured three criminals from a secure facility in the middle of a major enemy offensive… all at the risk of my own neck, don’t you know!” He exhaled loudly and struck the console again with the flat of his hand. “Driving you a few blocks! Wow!” He turned to Dawn and pointed at her. “You owe me big, Dawn. Big!”

Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Yes, Donavan. I owe you big. Are we there yet?”

^{Chapter 7}

New Pennsylvania

Indeed, Dawn did owe Donavan. She owed him even more after they arrived at the underground BICE chop shop, and Dawn discovered that Jed had hidden the gold coin in his pod. This little fact triggered another loud argument between Dawn and Donavan. In the end, after Dawn admitted that this time, she really, really, really owed him big-time, Donavan agreed to go back to the station for the coin. Jed told him precisely where it was, and Donavan wrote down the pod number on a piece of paper so he could remember it.

There was one last argument when Dawn told Donavan that she wasn’t going to pay him the six hundred thousand unis until he returned with the coin, but this time the hostility storm blew in fast and didn’t last long. Jed heard Donavan curse under his breath as he left.

Dawn went under the knife first. Removing a BICE was a complicated but minor operation, and they only used some form of local anesthetic. Jed and Jerry sat against a far wall, and the operation took place in the middle of an expansive room and not in any kind of specialty operating theater. A slice was made along the hairline at the rear of the neck, and the BICE unit was removed with practiced precision. They’ve done this before, Jed noted.

Jed and Jerry talked during Dawn’s operation, but there wasn’t too much they could say. All they had were questions, and there weren’t many answers to those questions available to them. They were both just glad to be alive, and no matter how bad it was here, they both agreed that it had to be better than if they’d been sent to Oklahoma. At least now they had a lifeline, however tentative it might be.

Jerry went to the operating table next, but before he did, Dawn instructed him on how to transfer the unis from his TRID to Jed’s wristband. Once the unis were on the band, Jerry headed to the table and Dawn filled Jed in on some of the things that were happening—or at least, what he could expect to happen next. TRID removal was a lot easier than removing a BICE, Dawn told him, and it wasn’t nearly as dangerous. Being caught without a TRID was what was dangerous.

She told Jed that she hadn’t expected to come on this trip, even right up to the moment when she’d given him the note and the coin. Coming along was a last-minute exigency that she’d have to explain in greater detail later.

They needed the gold to get into the Amish Zone. Getting to the AZ meant that they would have to travel safely through the battle that currently raged all around them in this new world, and there was only one man Dawn knew who could accomplish such a thing. That man was her cousin. Pook Rayburn.

* * *

A harrowing walk of a few blocks through a darkened city under siege brought them to Pook’s place of business. From all appearances, Merrill’s Grocery Supply was mostly a bombed-out shell of its former self. Broken crates of canned and packaged groceries and kitchen supplies were scattered helter-skelter around the place, and Jed was surprised when they found Pook Rayburn himself still working at his desk in his second-floor office.

“What in the world happened here?” Dawn asked, as she gave her cousin a hug.

“Which world?” Pook replied with a wink. “We happened here. We—that is, the resistance—happened. It’s a major offensive. This is the closest they’ve ever come to the City. I barely learned about it in time to warn you. I’m glad you made the trip. There probably won’t be any more after yours.”

“It’s that bad?”

“For now it is.” Pook placed a file he’d been looking at back on his desk and sat down, indicating that the rest of them should sit down too.

Jed was surprised to notice that there were no computers, no electronic devices anywhere to be seen. Jerry must have noticed the same thing, because he leaned over to Jed and whispered to him. “Apparently the resistance is purely analog… like you folks in the Amish!”

Pook overheard the jest and smiled. “All of this,” he pointed to the paperwork and files on his desk, “this all has to do with my legitimate business. Everything else, I keep up here,” he said, pointing to his head. “Anything digital can be traced and tracked. A lot of things that are not digital can be traced and tracked. We try to avoid leaving a signature anywhere, but…” He hesitated a moment before speaking again. “…But as this war develops, it seems that there are no guarantees about anything. I suppose uncertainty is always the product of any war…” Pook looked up and appeared to decide against whatever it was he had been going to say.

“How did the trip go?” Pook asked.

“Not bad when you consider how bad it could have been,” Dawn said with a sigh. “Things have obviously gone downhill since I was here last. The biggest road bump was when Jed here and his new friend Jerry got pinched by Transport for insurrectionist conversations during their holo-trip.”

Pook looked at Jed and nodded his approval, as if he were impressed. Jed responded silently by pointing at Jerry.

“That’s a story you’ll have to tell me later.” Pook looked at his cousin. “Do you have the gold to get yourself into the AZ?”

“Donavan had to go back and get it from the station.”

“Donavan?” Pook snorted with obvious dissatisfaction.

“Jed thought he was busted, and he hid the gold in the seat of his pod.”

Pook nodded again. “Okay… well… Jed here is a thinker. I’ll give him that, for sure. How do we know Donavan won’t skedaddle with the gold?”

“I told him I wasn’t paying for the exfil or the BICE removal until he shows up with the gold.”

“Clever of you. Not so much of him. Doesn’t he know that unis are basically worthless?”

“Apparently not.”

“Well let’s hope he gets here with the gold before he finds out,” Pook said with a wink. He stood up and walked toward the door. “We’ll have to go next door to the antique shop, that’s where I keep the Transport forms for the AZ.”

* * *

Merrill’s Antique Shoppe had been spared most of the damage from the recent battles that the grocery supply building had suffered. Pook unlocked the door with an old-fashioned metal key, and as they walked in, only a faint blue-grey light from the streetlamps filtered into the darkened building, casting a ghostly hue on the items in the shop.

Without even being able to see much of it, the old building gave Jed a brief feeling of comfort. He felt like he was in one of the ancient buildings on his family’s farm back on Earth. Everything in the building was old—and for Jed, strangely, it was the first time he’d felt safe since he’d left the Amish Zone back home. Here he was on a planet in a completely different solar system, and everything around him looked vaguely familiar.

Pook pulled some heavy blanket curtains down over the glass windows in the storefront, leaving them in almost perfect darkness. Then he walked through the store, and as he did he paused occasionally to light some fuel-burning lanterns that hung from wrought-iron hooks throughout the building. Jed couldn’t say what kind of fuel the lanterns burned, but in his melancholic reverie he could swear that it smelled just like kerosene. A golden glow flooded the store as Pook lit the last lantern.

“A lot of this stuff might look really familiar to you, Jed,” Pook said, almost as if he sensed what Jed was feeling. “We buy a lot of old junk on our regular trips to the Amish Zone. People in the City like Amish stuff for some reason. They’ll hang just about anything Amish on their walls. I sold a six-inch piece of rope the other day for a thousand unis.” He shook his head and let out a little giggle. “Of course, now that unis are worthless, maybe I was the one who got the short end of that deal. Seemed good for me at the time, though.”

“The paperwork?” Dawn asked. To Jed, Dawn now seemed like she was in a hurry. Like she had somewhere else to be.

“You have a date, cousin?” Pook asked.

“I… I just don’t like hanging around in here,” she replied. “It gives me the creeps. This is all great stuff, and it was super when it was in someone’s home, but in here it seems almost sacrilegious. Being here in this city and separated from the people who loved it and who owned it. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just weird.”

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Jed said. “I love this place, but I don’t think you’re weird.”

“I do,” Pook said, laughing. “Okay, the paperwork. Follow me.”

He made his way through the narrow walkways between mountains of antique furniture, carpets, tools, and household goods. When he got to the back of the store, he reached through the flickering shadows, and on the far wall his hands found an old, whitewashed frame that looked like it had once been a window. He placed the window down on a dusty tan sofa; attached to the back of the frame was an envelope stuffed with papers.

“Here they are,” Pook said.

Pook, Jerry, and Dawn walked back toward the front of the store, but Jed couldn’t move. He was staring at the window frame…

The bottom-right pane of glass was missing. In its place was a piece of metal, a section of an old coffee can. You could see that the can had once—long, long ago—been red with white print, the old-timey kind, stomped flat and cut to fit.

The window itself looked ancient, as it always had, but now the piece of metal coffee can looked ancient, too—maybe over a hundred years old. Jed stared at the old window and touched the replacement pane with his hand.

He could almost feel the years pulse through the cool of the metal as the coffee can stared at him, penetrating him with an ageless accusation.

Author’s Note

***Author’s Note Update – May 2014***

Since I first published Pennsylvania, Part 1 back in April of ’13, the Pennsylvania world has become quite a phenomenon. When Pennsylvania 1 soft launched on April 4th 2013, I only put up one measly post about it, and then didn’t mention the story again for a good while. I was busy promoting WICK and most of my readers missed that Pennsylvania was even out there. The little short story sold 147 copies in the first month, and though it got fantastic reviews, not many people paid much attention to it.

What happened with Pennsylvania over the next few months was a textbook example of the "slow burn." PA1 didn’t sell a ton of copies, only a little over 400 in the first 5 months, but fantastic reviews kept coming in, and then I started receiving emails and social media messages asking for a Pennsylvania 2. When I first wrote PA1 as a short story, I never knew whether there would ever be more of it. I figured I’d leave that up to the readers. I’d planted all of these nice mysteries and I had some awesome ideas for if the thing ever caught the imagination of readers, but I was also happy to move on if no one really cared about the story. It was Amish/Sci-Fi after all, and no one had ever heard of it.

By late summer I was getting a steady stream of DEMANDS for a Pennsylvania 2. I remember talking with Hugh Howey when we were both at WorldCon in San Antonio in August and telling him that this little Amish/Sci-Fi story was really starting to resonate with people. When Hugh introduced me to people, he kept calling me "an Amish/Sci-Fi writer" and it was funny to see how people reacted to that.

When I got home from Worldcon, I knew I had to write the next part of the story, so in late September, when I had a short break between other projects, I sat down and began writing PA2 and launched it in November. Again, I had no idea how it would play out there, but if Pennsylvania 1 had created a dribble of interest, PA2 started the drumbeat.

I’d sent Pennsylvania 1 to Hugh to read, but I knew how busy he was and I figured he’d never read it. Then the drumbeat grew louder. When Pennsylvania 2 was done, I emailed Hugh and told him to delete PA1 and to read the new document (which cleverly had PA1 and PA2 in it.) Hugh was traveling on tours and going overseas, and one thing was happening after another for him, so I was pretty sure he would never read it… and I didn’t blame him. I imagine he has a thousand requests from authors to read their silly books. When the reviews started coming in for Pennsylvania 2 I was astonished. Almost every reader who contacted me about the story said that it was better than Pennsylvania 1, which at that time had a 5.0 star average rating on Amazon.com.

After the first of the year in 2014, the drumbeat had grown… sounded more like hoofbeats now. I started writing on Pennsylvania 3 and at that point I knew that the story couldn’t be a trilogy. I had too much story to tell. I floated the idea of just writing a huge, novel-length Part 3, but that didn’t go over very well with Pennsylvania fans. People were liking the episodic/serial release plan, so I decided that I’d do my best to conclude the Pennsylvania portion of the story in five parts. I knew there would be a sequel too, but for the PA portion, I was going to try to get it all out in five episodes.

When Pennsylvania 3 launched in early February (ten months to the day after PA1 launched) the thing was really turning into a phenomenon. Then one day I received an email from someone and they included a link to an Amazon run Kindle blog. In that blog, Amazon had asked some famous authors to name the most underrated Sci-Fi authors working out there.

I was shocked to see that Hugh Howey had named me! And he’d added a blurb about Pennsylvania, which at that time I still didn’t know he’d even read…

Hugh Howey (author of Wool and Peace in Amber): “Pennsylvania by Michael Bunker. Pennsylvania is a brilliant tale of extra-planetary colonization. With parallels to the European settlement of the Americas, Michael Bunker draws on his Amish roots and lifestyle to portray that tenuous balance between mankind and its machines. He also knows better than most the difficulty of surviving on civilization’s frontier. I daresay the wait for the next great Amish science fiction author may be finally at an end.”

All of a sudden, interest in Pennsylvania really accelerated. Sales were not on a rocket-like trajectory, but were building day by day. Within a week I’d had about ten requests for interviews, and I was finding little snippets and bits of information all over the Internet about Pennsylvania.

One of the things that really struck me about the reviews coming in was that almost everyone who read the series was saying that each episode was getting better and better.

That’s when the anxiety started :)

And then there was this. I emailed Hugh to thank him for the mention in the Kindle blog and he replied with this about Pennsylvania…

"It’s brilliant. Don’t #*@% it up."

(He didn’t say #*@%.)

So now I was really sweating it. I’d created something people really wanted to read, and now I still had two parts left to go. What if the rest of it sucked?

Listen, I don’t know how this story ends…. the Pennsylvania publishing story that is, not the Pennsylvania Amish/Sci-Fi story… I know how the book ends. But I don’t know how the story of the publication of this story will end. Maybe it’ll be just another interesting anecdote. Right now, things are looking very interesting. It could be much more. But from the beginning, this story has been about the fans and the readers. They’ve made this happen, and with not much help from me.

May 2014 Update - **The Pennsylvania Omnibus is now out and doing very well. For those readers who do not like getting their story episodically, please get the Omnibus edition which is now available everywhere! I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride, because I sure have. There is now a fan started and fan run Michael Bunker fan page here:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1398447123744997/

…and there is a Pennsylvania Fanfic Anthology in the works that will include a new canonical Pennsylvania novella by me, and a dozen or more short stories written by the top Indie authors out there. In addition to that, I know of at least ten more authors who are currently penning stand-alone Pennsylvania fanfic stories. This is all very exciting, and I hope you will join me in celebrating all of this art set in a world I dearly love.

Michael Bunker

Original March 2013 Author’s Note:

Pennsylvania is a story I’ve wanted to write for a long time. Amish sci-fi, because it seems so contradictory, is the perfect mechanism for telling a great story about the decisions we make about how we live, and the ramifications of those decisions. In my mind, Pennsylvania is the beginning of a longer tale that needs telling, but, as I was writing it, I had no idea if anyone would even be interested in an Amish sci-fi series. I’d love to tell more of the story, so I’ll wait and see what you readers think about it; if you like Pennsylvania as much as I do, then I’ll dive into it and give you more of the Pennsylvania tale.

Please follow me on Facebook so you can keep in touch with me and receive updates on the Pennsylvania idea.

It has become obvious in the publishing arena that people are looking for episodic stories that are inexpensive and that tell a great tale. Part of this revolution in publishing means that readers have more options in what kind of stories they buy—and in what format they receive them. The flipside to that reality is that authors—especially authors that serve as publishers as well—need the readers who love their stories to become teammates in the process. Pennsylvania is a self-published story, and I hope that it will be the first in a line of Pennsylvania stories that will eventually make up a larger work. That, of course, is up to you. Readers have more power than ever in determining what succeeds, what sells, and what stories are expanded.

As I’ve said before, the single most helpful thing that you can do to help me get the word out about Pennsylvania, other than get all of your friends and family members to read it, is to review the book on Amazon. It’s free for you to do so, and if you enjoyed it, it’s an excellent way to let other people know what you thought. You may not think a single review carries much weight, but in the new publishing world, reviews are critical to any work’s success. So, I am asking you to PLEASE, while it is still fresh in your thoughts, go to Amazon.com, or wherever you purchased the book, and write a review for it. Your review doesn’t need to be long; just a paragraph will do. It is a fact of the modern market that books with more reviews will sell more copies, get more attention, and have more credibility.

Again, I’d love to share more of the Pennsylvania story with you. I’ll wait to hear from you all so I’ll know that the story has an audience.

I would also be very pleased if you would share links to Pennsylvania on Facebook, Twitter, and everywhere else on the Internet where such things are shared and discussed.

And I’ve set up a Facebook page so you can keep up with news on the series:

https://www.facebook.com/PennsylvaniaBook

Thank you so much for all of your help and support.

Michael Bunker March 2013

About Michael Bunker:

Michael Bunker is an off-grid farmer, author, historian, philosopher, iconoclast, husband, and father of four living children. He lives with his family in a "plain" community in Central Texas where he reads and writes books… and occasionally tilts at windmills.

Michael Bunker on Facebook:

http://facebook.com/michaelbunker

Michael’s Twitter:

http://twitter.com/mbunker (@mbunker)

mbunker@michaelbunker.com

Other Books by Michael Bunker

W1CK, by Michael Bunker (2013).

ISBN 9781481858342

WICK 2: Charm School, by Michael Bunker (2013)

ISBN 9781482605532

WICK 3: Exodus, by Michael Bunker (2013)

ISBN 9781482797763

The Last Pilgrims, by Michael Bunker (2012).

ISBN 9780578088891

FUTURITY, by Michael Bunker (2013)

ISBN 9781482332568

Michael Bunker confines most of his communication to “snail mail” (traditional post). Please write him a letter if you have questions, comments, or suggestions.

M. Bunker

1251 CR 132

Santa Anna, Texas 76878

Copyright

Copyright 2014 by Michael Bunker

Smashwords Edition

Fiction Disclaimer:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events either are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

© Copyright 2013 by Michael Bunker

All rights reserved

FIRST PRINTING

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in reviews, without the written permission of the author.

Cover Design:

Jason Gurley

https://jason-gurley.squarespace.com/portfolio/

For information on Michael Bunker or to read his blog, visit:

http://www.michaelbunker.com

To contact Michael Bunker, please write to:

M. Bunker

1251 CR 132

Santa Anna, Texas 76878