Evolution

On Earth, acrimonious debates flared as people took sides on what should he done to combat the effects of the global Depression. Government regulation vs. laissez-faire, unemployment checks vs. work programs, deficit spending as economic stimulus vs. deficit reduction. Conclusive decisions were never reached. The net effect was one of paralysis. As time passed, it came more to resemble rigor mortis.

The media were quick to note such sharply divided opinions. Dedicated channels for every conceivable variation of political and social position sprouted overnight. Shows aired which claimed to speak for the public at large, though, in truth, they only represented small, highly vocal segments. Paradoxically, friction, even between diametrically opposed viewpoints, produced few sparks, due to the fact that people were opinionated only in principle, not in deed.

Rare, scattered acts of violence were widely reported as evidence of impending catastrophe. Many of the perpetrators were turned into perverse heros, usually by portraying the criminals as victims striking back. Although, in fact, they represented and affected only an infinitesimal percentage of the public, it seemed that everyone took each and every affront personally, as though they, themselves, had been hurt. Impartial judgment became impossible in an atmosphere seething with media-manufactured tensions.

Not surprisingly, the citizens of North America felt powerless to change the course of events. Resigned to the idea that they were adrift in currents too large for them to affect, or even to understand, they gave up, becoming content to experience their world vicariously, passively.

Some commentators, more jaded than the rest, pointed out that talk was cheap and that those who tuned in were the least likely to bring about change. True, the opinion channel watchers admitted, they weren’t doing much, but they

could if they wanted to. They seemed content with power unused. For hours on end, they sat before glowing screens, filled with fantasies of righting grievous wrongs… then went to bed.

This vast, inchoate angst was there to be tapped, a fertile field for those who knew how to reach the emotions of the American public. Trevor York and his ilk had a field day.

Black hair.

The hair color, of course, came from a bottle. There were no highlights; it was flat black, like velvet, and no light reflected whatsoever. It was styled carefully in a wave just short of a pompadour. Only continuous care could maintain such perfection for more than an hour at a time.