(The latest bounty of nature. The limbs down on the fence are residue of a more severe event).

Splash said his brother used to live in Arizona, close enough to Flagstaff for a few bright lights and equidistant to the cliffs that mark the seemingly endless plunge down to the floor of the Grand Canyon. There was snow at the farm last night, a nice fluffy couple inches quite different than the foot of white that blanketed the outbuildings and the pastures. Splash was sweeping off his favorite rock by the Fire Pit, while others waited close to the bunkhouse door. There are demonstrations of optimism under clear blue skies, sips of refreshing steaming coffee. The bright rays of the fresh new sun are already causing the new fallen puffy white to slip from the branches over the pastures to the east, though the temperature gauge on the west side of the Farmhouse is still ten degrees below freezing.

There is room to accept the wonder of nature’s process, and set aside the efforts of the Department of Labor to depict it’s press release on the state of jobs and the economy. The consensus opinion is that there will be some natural melting going on through the morning, refreshing some of the deficit in moisture, and that life remains good while we have it. Jobs? We have some, though of course they are unconventional in contrast to the well-constructed sort we used to have. It is the way things are these days and it is wise to get by in the way we can.

DeMille was looking at his phone. He was a Blackberry guy in his time, and the device doesn’t work properly these days due to technical advances. He fiddled for a few minutes, sighed, and slipped it back into the pocket of his quilted hunting vest.

“The Boss got some feedback yesterday. He said there was an accusation that Socotra House watches the Sean Hannity show and gets their information from him. Another one said the Writer’s Section was guilty of violating their oath of office.”

“What on earth? Hannity comes on after our bedtime and we are extremely careful to follow the guidelines from Legal about Section 88 of the UCMJ. We honor and respect all the holders of offices in the Department of Defense who have the power to charge us with violations of speech and thought.”

“That isn’t the point. Disagreement these days is apparently not what it used to be. It may be subject to prosecution.”

Loma wasn’t prepared to venture out from the overhang despite the wonder of the clear skies and crisp but gentle breeze. He puffed a Marlboro pensively. “The problem seems to be that both sides of the argument seem to agree.”

Melissa had a knitted cap pulled down tight, so only the protruding strands danced across the neck of her quilted jacket. “That seems to be a contradiction, but I think I agree. I was talking to the lady who raises the Guinea Hens down the lane after some got out and were running free on the property. We got them corralled after a while, but we were talking about the stuff that went on yesterday. I thought we were talking about the same thing- wild exercises of power, deep division, fundamental changes to nature of our government. It wasn’t until we got to the part where we agreed things were a little crazy that I realized we were talking about two different things. It had seemed the same right up until she put a label on things.”

“You are right about that. We used to have a discourse shaped by the three original networks, and intellectuals used to add National Public Radio for a full analysis.”

Rocket smiled. “I grew up in Detroit, so we got the CBC from Windsor across the river. Sometimes it was completely different coverage of the same events.”

DeMille was still agitated about his Blackberry. He strode boldly across the new snow to stand over Splash, who was resolute in his accustomed seat, even if the melting snow was penetrating the back of his jeans. “Yeah. But disagreement used to come after we all heard what Walter or Huntley-Brinkley had to say about things. There was a common starting point, anyway. And difficult to demonize people starting from basically the same story.”

Splash laughed. “It is the same thing with the blue-and-red maps they show on the internet. Now those bubbles of location reflect the ability to get a stream of information that no longer competes for a share of a generally centrist message. With the multiplicity of data sources, people can read or listen to a consistent stream of information that is wildly opposed from left or right. Or actually, up and down. And the most amazing part is that most of it is identical in structure, except for identifying who is responsible for it.”

“OK, so Legal says we have to support the people who have the power to enforce the law, created in a bubble of information that is not shared across the communities of interest.”

Melissa pursed her lips. “That was exactly it. I was going to agree about the problem right up to the point when we realized we were talking about completely different people responsible for lunacy.”

Loma frowned. “It is the same thing across the issues. We could be talking about whether the Occupational Safety and Health people can tell you to get a shot, or several shots, just to keep working. If you oppose that, you are part of a rebellion against Science and Truth. But then, to be polite, we could change the subject and talk about the weather. But if there is disagreement about stuff like snow, like whether it is good or bad, and it winds up being for or against the health of the Planet.”

“We are in favor of the planet. Isn’t everyone?”

There was a round of laughter at that one. We decided we were, as a group, in favor of “good” and opposed to “evil.” That put us all in a good position to change the subject and we decided to talk about lunch. The people that serve the food only characterize it as “warm” or “cold,” though they sometime add “world famous.” That is a bubble of information on which we can all agree, or at least do not find disagreement a matter on which to base prosecution.

Copyright 2022 Vic Socotra
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