Universal Politics

Happy Holler is astir with election talk. The universe of Fugasma, as you know, holds elections once every ten years, so that the planets themselves do not have to interrupt their daily lives nor affect their productivity by worrying about who is what too often. As a matter of fact, elections have become so streamlined that candidates have only two days to make their case. There are no parties per se (parties were eliminated in the Act of Reformation of 2345, which is a good year to enact reform since it is easy for school children to memorize). At the end of two days, the candidates are scored on a small list of factors: who did the least sniping; who got more facts correct; who is likely to live another ten years, who is adjudged to be worthy of the greatest respect, and so on. Fugasma feels, as a universe, that if they reduce politics to these factors they can dispense with the time and money-wasting ridiculosity that has been exhibited by the history of other planets (notably Earth).

So, today and tomorrow are abuzz with campaign mottoes, demonstrations of humility, candidates offering to open the door for their opponents, and campaign advertisements hologrammatically projected into space by the candidates commending the inhabitants of the planet for whose chief office they are running and promising to do absolutely nothing to ruin their lives. It is exhilirating beyond belief to see men and women running for office based on promises not to do anything.

As you may know, Madame Glitchbane was exiled into the past many years ago from the present future date of that universe, but she still intercepts the news waves, receives telepathic letters from relatives, and worries about who might be the next to govern the planet from which she was banished. If Boston Mississippi, for example, wins the race for Chief Knitter on planet Glitchbane, they might be in for ten more years of nothing but Fair Isle.

(It is the custom for people of the planets of Fugasma to name their children after cities and places from Ancient (present) Earth).

Each planet is dedicated to one type of industry and all the people of that planet are genetically perfect for that one industry. It should go without saying that everything is made by hand. Those who would invent mechanical devices to do what is best done by hand are made to, for example, wear only nylon or acrylic garments for a year. There is a 100% success rate with this method of treatment, and no reported recidivism.

On Planet Glitchbane, everyone is a Knitter. Even in that reformed future, the planets do not like it if someone is Different. Madame Glitchbane, unfortunately, let it slip that she would be interested in other things, like spinning and weaving and quilting. She gained so much knitoriety for her perversity that she was eventually kicked back into the past. The Wise Council of Glitchbane feels that if one spends enough time suffering in the past, they will eventually renounce their primitive beliefs and become a better part of society on Glitchbane in the future. So here she sits, sometimes longing to be back home on Glitchbane, trying her best to understand these inhabitants of ancient Earth, and sometimes just happy to be alive.

But I digress. I was speaking of the election talk here at the Holler. Nanny Granny is rooting for Pensacola Algeria, who is a veteran Domino knitter and quite innovative. Tippie Jane doesn't really care who wins, she just likes to see what the candidates are wearing. Ermadine wishes that Paducah Port-au-Prince is elected, as Knitress Port-au-Prince is one of the strictest knitters on the planet, and does not even allow laddering back to fix a mistake.

Other planets have a stake in the election, of course. If Cleveland Burgundy, the lace knitter, is elected then the Planet Wolfbane, which is the wool producing planet, will not be happy. They will have to change the content of their herds to produce wool that is good for lace knitting, and they won't be needing as much of it as if, for example, Mendenhall Saskatchewan (the bulky knitter) wins.

Politics, politics. Thank goodness it will all be over tomorrow.

Posted by Sheila at October 8, 2004 10:46 AM Posted to Stories | TrackBack