Having given up on my dream of becoming this century’s Mark Twain, I still must confess that I have an urge to write. So far, my efforts have been confined to letters to the editor. Although I have had good results doing this, as about 90% of my submissions have been printed, I get no remuneration or other credit. While the Denver Post writers have gotten numerous Pulitzers, the editors have never seen fit to ever even nominate me. Their excuse has always been that there is no such category, but that seems pretty thin to me. Surely a little subterfuge is in order in this case. At any rate, let me share one of my efforts with you and let you be the judges. I noted that a Denver suburb had a problem with coyotes attacking people walking in the park. The city’s reaction: act swiftly to protect…..the coyotes! I wondered how far this nonsense might go, and ergo, I wrote:

SOME ARE LESS EQUAL

Harris was running late. His position as Deputy Undersecretary for Ordinary Affairs required him to continually refine 27,000 regulations. His duties seldom allowed him to appear at meetings when they started, but his tardiness was generally tolerated. This meeting was different. It had been called as an emergency session of the Council of Ordinaries. Not only would his lateness be viewed with extreme disfavor, but the extra food rations that were distributed before such sessions would be long gone when he arrived.

There was hope, however. He trimmed the sails on his pedicar for maximum velocity and put his councilperson flag in its holder. With a good breeze behind him, he could make up a few minutes and arrive on time.

He sailed down the highway faster than he had hoped, and was less than a mile from the council building when he was stopped by a policeperson, who was obviously none too pleased when he realized the vehicle he was halting flew a council flag.

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t proceed. A woman was attacked and killed by a bear a block farther down the highway”, he explained. “I can’t let anyone interfere while the bear’s feeding, especially since she has two cubs.”

Harris was furious, but he could not blame the cop. The bear was in its own territory, and the woman was the trespasser on the earth.

The cop helped Harris turn around, and even gave a push to the pedicar. He needn’t have done that, using up some precious calories of his daily allowance, and Harris was grateful. Still, Harris would have to use another route and pedal most of the way against a headwind.

He almost made it, but walked in just as the Second Most Ordinary Citizen Whitaker was beginning to speak. Whitaker stopped in midsentence and stared angrily at Harris as he found his seat. Then he began again.

“I bid a fond welcome to all of my equals. His Most Ordinary Citizen Olson has asked you to come here to consider what to do about a most urgent matter. Our efforts to make sure that those organisms having the right of prior existence are well fed and protected, have fallen short.”

The gasps from the audience momentarily forced Whitaker to stop. They found it unbelievable and scandalous that animals might be suffering any hardship. When he was able to restore order, Whitaker continued.

“His Most Ordinariness Olson wishes to share his thoughts with you and to solicit your advice on the proper method of dealing with this crisis. Without further ado, let me ask Citizen Olson to address you.”

Olson arose. The applause was deafening, and continued for several minutes until Olson raised his hand for quiet. Then he began.

“My beloved equals, something must be done to avert a crisis. I have summoned you here to help me decide on a course of action. Since I have thought at great length upon the matter, and decided upon what I believe to be the proper thing to do, I am sure you will all agree to my plan. Therefore, as usual, we will dispense with voting, since it would simply waste our valuable time. Here then is the plan to which you have all preagreed.

“So far, we have been nibbling around the edges of the saltine on this issue. Now it is time to cover it with butter and swallow it whole.”

Harris hated Olson’s food metaphors. The daily ration of food bars was set so that all received enough nutrition to sustain life, with no extra calories wasted on the usurping species of humans. As a council member, Harris did receive a 10% bonus to allow him to perform his duties but hunger was always lurking in the back of his mind. A saltine! Did such a thing exist on the planet? And butter! He wondered what such a magnificent feast could taste like. He was lost in his reverie for several seconds until he realized someone was poking him. There was silence in the room when he returned to reality. All were staring at him, and Olson was silent. His ecstatic moaning had forced His Equality to pause. Harris slunk into his seat as Olson continued.

“There are far too many of us humans using the resources that should rightfully go to those species having the first claim on them,” Olson continued. “We must reduce our demands upon this planet’s food supplies before we cause hardship among the animals upon whom we have intruded. I propose a most reasonable solution. There will be an annual lottery. Those chosen will be asked to donate their calorie-consuming bodies to the greater good. By giving up their corporeal existences, they will donate their flesh to the well-being of our animal brethren. Since no one could possibly argue against such a noble goal, all asked will be presumed to have given their consent.”

As the meeting ended, Harris joined with all present in expressing his agreement with the plan. Each of them felt that Olson’s plan was a brilliant, and quite certainly the only, solution to a problem that none of them had been aware of before the council session. About an hour of obligatory praise for Olson followed.

Harris headed for home. The breeze was now a headwind, causing him to pedal all the way, depleting any energy reserves he had. Nevertheless, he was content, as he always was after attending a meeting of Equals, especially since a grave danger to Mother Earth had been successfully averted. He would have to rest for a couple of days to regain his strength, but it was a small price to pay.

He had slept for over a day when the Neighborhood Proper Action Monitor woke him. Interrupting the recuperation of a council member was not something done for trivial matters, so Harris knew that a matter of great urgency required his attention.

“There is a letter, sir” said the Monitor.

“A letter? You mean a compgram?” asked Harris.

“No sir” was the reply. “A real letter. Written on real paper.”

Harris looked at the object in the monitor’s hand. It was real paper. He wondered what could be so momentous that it justified the destruction of an arboreal brother. He began to feel the paper longingly, wondering just what it might taste like. It was, after all, his to do with as he wanted, and might yield a few calories. He looked at the monitor, and could tell that the same idea had occurred to him. It had been an act of extreme self-control to deliver the letter unopened, and Harris once again felt gratitude to a lower ranking equal. Then he opened the letter and began to read.

“Congratulations!” it began. “You have been selected to fulfill our collective obligation to those creatures having a greater right to the limited resources of this planet. A vote of the Council of Equal Citizens has picked you to participate in an entirely voluntary program designed to increase the calorie intake of those who existed before humans. Since it is such an important program, it is inconceivable that you would refuse, so your wholehearted acquiescence is taken as a given. Enclosed is a pill. This pill will cause instantaneous cessation of your normal life functions. Outside your living area, you will find a container that will contain your recyclable organic being until it can be collected and distributed to needy carnivores. Do not worry about the pill. It will metabolize well before your flesh is brought to the reallocation center, and will pose no hazard to those needy animals who gain sustenance from it. Please walk to the container, get inside, and take the pill. It is that simple to help sustain our fragile planet.”

Harris was stunned. He had thought councilmembers would be exempt from the new program. He knew there had been no vote, since he was a member of council himself, but did not dwell on that issue, as the council had never actually voted on anything. He called several friends to see if some mistake had been made. The first four he called were “unavailable”. Then he called Beauvais, who answered.

“It is a great honor,” said Beauvais. “I wish I had been picked. As for you, all agreed you were the best choice, since you had been so supportive during Olson’s speech and cheered so loudly, he had to stop speaking.”

Ah, brave Beauvais. Harris knew his compspeak transceiver was routed to the Office of Joyous Agreement, and just to speak to him might cause serious repercussions. Harris could read between the lines. He had interrupted Olson, so Olson had decided he was expendable. So, his years of dedicated service to the cause of the planet’s survival were of no consequence because he had dreamed of a buttered biscuit.

There was no mistake. Harris must cease his normal life functions. He knew there was no appeal, no chance to change the verdict. His calorie allocation would stop, and he would quickly die of starvation if he did not follow orders.

He clutched the pill in his hand and walked to the curb. There, as promised, was the collection bin for his remains. A storm had arisen, and he walked in a pouring rain. He pondered the injustice that had befallen him, and began to weep over his fate. As thunder roared around him, he raised his fist to the sky and cursed Olson and all the sycophants who had allowed this travesty, and screamed into the darkness, using the only oath still deemed non-offensive to all, “Dadgummit”.

Then he took a seat in the dumpster and swallowed his pill.