The fatwa from Washington was clear and unyielding, “All must vote.” Earlier fatwas also contained threats and warnings, but that was no longer necessary. By now, all knew the consequences! Whenever you voted, your voting record along with whom you voted for was immediately recorded and encoded on all your documentation. All knew that showing up to work or school or trying to use the Government Uni-Credit -Card-International (GUCCI) without having voted meant, at minimum, a quick six-month government paid vacation in the Civil Fairness Re-Education camps – initially they were called the Racial Homogenization Centers, but the names were changed over the years as the white population was culled and dwindled into minority status. In spite of opposition from the Muslim Fairness Commissions the governments then reduced being white from “clear and present danger to humanity” down to “dangerous threat” and the detention centers were renamed.
She boarded the voting bus that day and settled in for the ride. Not even the driver knew yet where they were going. He would get his directions by radio based on the exit polls. The exit polls weren’t conducted to see who would be the winner, that was a fait accompli, the polls were conducted to see how many people actually showed up to vote. It simply wouldn’t do to have districts where people didn’t perform their civic duty so voters from other districts would be bused in as the poll results were analyzed in real time. They were sitting waiting for the driver to get his orders.
Outside it was a cold early December day, voting day had been changed to coincide with the Chairman’s Birthday -of course no one called it Election Day anymore as that would imply the need for a change in Government and such outright insults would not be tolerated. As the drizzle intensified to a light rain and beat against the bus windows she realized for the first time that her thoughts and life for the past ten or so years were just as gray and joyless as today seemed to be.
The bus reminded her of her school days, she remembered once, she was about 9, when her grandfather took her with him to show her how he voted. “It’s important” he said, but it was “only for grownups.” She couldn’t help but acknowledge the smile that came to her lips as she thought back to her grandfather’s crude reverse psychology. It worked because as soon as she turned 18 she couldn’t wait to cast her first vote. It was a beautiful November day, a little chilly, but bright and sunny and school was canceled for election day. She was to go with her grandfather to watch him vote and then he said he’d take her to the mall.
She thought they looked menacing, but her grandfather told her not to worry they were just punks who are desperately trying to convince themselves they’re not afraid of their own shadow. She half believed him, but she walked a little closer to him nonetheless. They lined each side of the school steps. Each was holding a nightstick in one hand and pamphlets urging that presidential term limits be abolished in the other. She noticed that the same image that was emblazoned on their t–shirts was also reproduced on the pamphlet. It was what looked like a large and furious black cat with her claws tearing at an American flag. Later on, her grandfather explained that the cat was actually supposed to be a panther. As they walked up the steps one of the goons pointed his nightstick at her and said “you make sure that cracker old man know who to vote fo’.“ Her grandfather reached over her head, grabbed the stick and yanked it hard. Instinctively the baton’s owner pulled back just as hard and at that exact instant her grandfather let go of the stick. The thug tripped backwards and and took one of his friends with him as he landed flat on his ass. While those who witnessed the incident were laughing with tears in their eyes, the thug didn’t share in the joke. He charged towards them, but her grandfather had swept her up i n his arms and in two leaps they were at the top of the stairs with one foot inside the school. The Black Panther thugs didn’t follow them in the school, but yelled insults and threats from outside. Her grandfather went back out and yelled back at the one who had fallen on his ass, “If you ever point a stick at my granddaughter again, I’ll take it and shove it where the sun don’t shine…just the way you like it.” Enraged, the thug charged up the stairs, but was quickly intercepted by the one who seemed to be the leader. “Not here, not now” he told him as others joined in to hold back the one who charged. So restrained, the enraged and embarrassed thug had to settle for hollering another threat “soon enough, old man, soon enough.” Her grandfather went into the school and snarled between his clenched teeth , “I know, I can’t wait!”