Chapter
17: Triangles
For one thing, it was like pulling teeth getting a lot of the organizations
to come on board. All we were asking was
for them to agree to support the idea of “One Day In Peace, January 1” -- they
didn’t even have to do anything, unless they wanted to. And most of the ones that agreed to be co-sponsors
would never do anything more. But that’s
okay. By mid-spring we had 5,000 co-sponsoring
organizations in over 100 different countries. When it comes down to it, to get the media’s
attention it’s all about hype. Eventually
we’d have so many co-sponsors that they’d have to focus on our campaign.
Then corporations, sensing the public appetite for peace, would jump in,
finding angles to promote themselves while they peddled peace. This would pour gasoline on the fire bringing
it to an even greater level so that finally governments would have to listen.
Under pressure from ‘the people’ they’d change unjust and unsustainable
laws, which then would make it easier for this “fad” of focusing on peace to be
sustained and actually become the new norm for society.
Then finally at last, countries would have a goal that went far beyond
the Gross National Product -- their goal would be to help make life better for
all of their inhabitants for the current and future generations. And in order to do that, they would have to
get along with other nations. Then the
world would have a common goal, too.
At least, this was the general plan.
Most of the time
I’d look into the anxious and desperate and uncaring faces I’d see on the street,
and I was certain they’d never stop to think about what peace on earth would be
like. If and when they heard about the
goal of “peace for a day” they’d only see it as a foolish, childish dream, as
I had. They don’t have time to dream about
a better world; they’re too busy worrying about paying the bills so that they
won’t lose what little they have been able to achieve.
And yet, sometimes it seemed that it wasn’t so farfetched. Sometimes it seemed that if all the rules were
fair and everyone’s life was valued and every one had a chance to find meaning
and purpose, it would be an amazing world -- not perfect, but so much better.
Societies and people would have a purpose in life -- the purpose to live
to our fullest potentials. All that was standing in the way from this utopian
dream was an unfair economic, social and political system that people have put
in place, and that people could change.
How I wished I could believe in this impossible dream all the time. But then I had the perfect motivation to sustain
me through all the doubts and worries and fears. I had to do this. I had no choice. But, that part of it drove me crazy, too.
Would they hate me -- these friends I’d grown to love -- would they hate
me when they learned the truth about me?
I tried to hate Samantha, as a defense I guess for the guilt I felt about
my feelings for Art. And I could see she
tried to hate me, too, but somehow we just kept finding interesting things to
talk about, without intending to. Which
of course made me feel all the more guilty.
It was no use
trying to think about Troy to take my mind off Art, either. But I kept forcing myself to think about Troy,
and re-examine our relationship. I’d never
really convinced myself that I loved him. But that was when I was, well, the way I was.
I felt more like a complete person now, and knew that if I went back over
our relationship and inserted the new Jesse-with-a-heart into the place where
Lady Jessica Martin had been, well, I could fall in love with Troy.
If only my heart weren’t fixated on Art now.
If only I could call Troy -- just hear his voice -- just hear him say he
loved me, as he had so many times back then when my heart just wouldn’t listen. This time maybe I wouldn’t mumble an obligatory,
“yeah, me too.” This time, I’d mean it.
But of course, Troy was the last person I could contact.
Now that we were certain that our every move was being watched, I had to
guard my past even more diligently. If only I could see him on TV, or read about him in the papers
-- but of course, keeping out of the public’s eye was something Global Missiles
Unlimited was always good at. In all these
months there wasn’t a single mention about my Uncle’s passing and Troy’s rise
up the ladder. Not in the Wall Street Journal.
Not on the Internet. Nowhere!
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