PRA = Peoples Republic of . . . Anarchy? Anomie? Alienation? Absurdity?
None of those would ever be chosen by such a country. They are all too negative. Never mind what such a country would become. You need a name that sounds appealing. Politically correct. One that obscures reality. Just as pro-abortion advocates refer to themselves as pro-choice instead of what they really are, such a country would have a name that sounds just and fair minded and superior to the narrow bigots in the states that did not choose to join it.
The following is the opening chapter of the story:
“Get up, girls! We have to leave!”, Rob said urgently. It was some time before daybreak when the network alerted him that he was in danger of being discovered. Kathryn, or Kat, his wife, was busily packing the few belongings they had that weren’t already packed. The girls, Abby, 14, and Emma, 8, both pretty redheads like their mom, groaned at being awakened at such an early hour but recognized the urgency in his voice but immediately got out of bed and began getting dressed.
“How did they find us?” he wondered to himself. He had returned the old burner phones, stayed off the Internet, and had not contacted any family or friends from his previous life, and paid for everything with multi-vendor gift cards or a prepaid debit card or cash donated to him by the network in small bills. But they managed to find him anyway. His only contact with the network was through a burner cell phone. If it ever rang, he knew someone from the network was trying to reach him. The message had been simple, the caller had said simply, “Acadia”, the code word that meant the call was from the network, followed by, “Code red. Jasmine. Repeat: Acadia, code red, jasmine.” Condition red meant that he and his family were in danger and to evacuate immediately. Jasmine was to be the next confirmation code word to verify the next call.
The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon when the girls were dressed and had their things packed. “Dear Father”, he silently prayed, “Protect us from those who would harm us.” Jesus had never said that being a Christian would mean living the high life on Easy Street. If fact he had said the opposite. Matthew 24:9 says. “Then they will hand you over for persecution, and they will kill you. You will be hated by all nations because of My name.” That was not one of Rob’s favorite verses and definitely not his wife’s or girls’. He made a last sweep of the two bedroom extended stay motel to make sure nothing was left behind and herded everyone out to the 10 year old minivan, also provided by the network, loaded up everything, checked to make sure everyone was buckled in and left, turning right out of the hotel parking lot along the pre-planned route.
After a the first right he started watching for the contact person. He saw a homeless man at an intersection with a backpack and a sign that said, “Anything helps, God bless”. There were a lot of homeless people since the states had split. Rob stopped near him and Kat gave him $5 with the name “Jasmine” written on it. The homeless man looked at the bill and gave her his backpack. Kat gave him a similar backpack with their old cell phones, gift cards, and vehicle registration inside knowing the network would dispose of them. The man said, “God bless you on your journey”, and they drove away.
Inside the backpack was a manila envelope containing a temporary New York license plate, $500 cash, gift cards, and a new burner cell phone. Also was an old-fashioned paper map with a route marked and scrap of paper with an ad for a motel about 400 miles southwest in Louisville, Kentucky. The road was still empty this early so he pulled around to the back of small gas station and quickly changed the license plates and threw the old one into a nearby dumpster. “Looks like we’re headed to the Free States finally”, Kat announced, taking up her usual role as navigator.