Novus Ordo Seclorum

Chapter One

Novus Ordo Seclorum: Not a New World Order, but A New Order for the Ages.

Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Great men are almost always bad men.

John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton,

1st Baron Acton

It must be considered that there is nothing more difficult to carry out, nor more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to handle, than to initiate a new order of things.

Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince.

Chapter One

June, 2040

"Happy Birthday, dear Granny, Happy Birthday to you."

Mary looked around the table. Her children and grandchildren were there, except for her eldest son. Apparently, there was a problem with the Shuttle. On the most recent flight a gang of prisoners was being transferred to the Omega prison colony, and there was some difficulty at the departure point. Jimmy couldn't say what trouble, and the TV news wouldn't dare broadcast anything negative about the space program.

Mary walked to the long table where a few packages were displayed. She wondered what was going on: usually there were at least two packages from each person, and a card to go with each. She wasn't mercenary. It was what she had come to expect.

Her daughter, Erin, handed her a large box, with a card and a huge bow on top. "Erin, this is lovely." Mary held up a matching robe and nightgown. Erin never gave her sensible gifts like nightclothes. She was more apt to give her a glow-in-the-dark Madonna figurine or a musical snow globe that played "It's a Small World" or another equally annoying tune.

Jimmy's wife, Johnica, presented their gift next. It was considerably smaller than the one from Erin. It contained a diary and a fountain pen, a bottle of ink and a refillable cartridge. Mary was thrilled. Even though she had used a computer for the last 20 years at work, she still loved to keep her journal every day. And she found writing with a classic pen so much more personal and satisfying than clicking away on a keyboard.

The six grandchildren stood around, grinning like a family of 'possums. The anticipation was driving Mary crazy. "All right, you bunch, What's in the big box? Did you get me a short stripper?"

Under the laughter, Fiona whispered, "Granny, you know you shouldn't be talking like that. What if the Listeners picked that up? What would you do if they took you to the Retraining Center?" Like others of her generation, Fiona lived in fear of the ever-present voice scanners, programmed to record anything that way be considered seditious or contrary to the current regime's beliefs.

Mary spoke softly, but firmly. "Come on, Fiona. You know I'd never make it to the Retraining Center. They'd be handing me a 70+ before that black van ever left the parking lot. Do you think I'm that naive? You know I was just teasing, don't you?" She said the last a bit louder, though, just in case the Listeners were out there. "So, Fiona love, what's in that huge box your brothers are struggling to heft onto the table?"

"You'll just have to open it and see, Granny," eighteen year old Sean said. He and his brother set the oversized box on the table beside the cake. As Erin's youngest, he was his mother's favorite, and tended to be a little smart-mouthed. Mary still loved him, although at times she wanted to act out her own grandmother's saying and "give him the back of her hand."

"Let me get to it so I can open it, then," Mary said laughingly as she pushed her way past the grown kids. No matter how old they got, they still reminded her of a litter of puppies tumbling about. Finally gaining the table, she proceeded to rip the silver and gold paper off the package.

Inside, there were about five bushels of shredded paper. Pulling out handfuls of homemade excelsior, Mary wondered if this was Sean's idea of a joke. It seemed like something he'd do. Then she got to the center, and extracted a large gold and silver envelope. In unison, everyone called for her to open it.

She could only stare, open mouthed, at the contents. It was a ticket.

"All right, you hooligans. What's the ticket for? Is this a joke, Sean? If it is, I'm not laughing." Mary was thinking about the forced move she had to make in less than three months, to what was euphemistically called "The Institute." It was warehousing for the elderly, where many of the residents were kept doped on Thorazine and liquid Valium, until they expired of "natural causes." Strange how all the deaths at the Institute seemed to be listed as natural. No one ever committed suicide; no one ever fell and broke a hip. There was never a finding of misadventure. Mary suspected the odor of bitter almonds hung heavily over the place.

"No, Granny," Fiona said. "It's no joke. We all chipped in and got a ticket on the Elder-Shuttle. We knew you'd like it, especially since you didn't want to go to the Institute. We thought this would be perfect. Your pension will be held for you until you get back, and when you do, you'll have enough money from your pension and the house to be able to afford something on your own. You know, nicer than the Institute. If you wanted, you could take the money and move to Ireland. It's allowable for you to permanently leave the country, so long as you establish residence in the country of your ethnicity. We don't want you to go away for a whole seven years, though."

Sean jumped in. "Remember too, at the Institute, they've got that stupid new policy. It says residents can't have visitors for the first three years, because it might upset them and disrupt the quiet. They seem to think you can't get settled in if you have any enjoyment."

"Now, Mary," Johnica added, "You know Jimmy says the Shuttle is perfectly safe. John Glenn went up in 1989, and people your age and older have been going ever since. I know this is only the second Elder-Shuttle flight, but the first one went off without a hitch. If something was wrong, don't you think Jimmy would tell me?"

"Besides, Granny," Sean said, "All the government agencies, and a lot of private companies are sending their retirees on the Shuttle as a retirement gift. If that company you worked for wasn't so damned cheap, they'd pony up a ticket for you."