“All of these characteristics—the American mortality rate, American life expectancy, American bankruptcies, American venereal disease statistics, American defense budget, American absence of a safety net, and so on—are components of one essential fact that has defined America from its very birth: American exceptionalism. America is the only country in history that not only believes itself to be exceptional among all the nations of all time, but that really is exceptional among all the nations of all time. America is the only nation in history founded on the American idea—the idea of universal liberty and self-government for all white men owning property. It is this American exceptionalism that has made the United States the envy of the world, the exemplar of hope, and the dream destination of the poor, the oppressed, and the dispossessed, until only fairly recently.
“But you have treated us badly. So it is this very American Exceptionalism that we now propose to deny you.
“You have always looked to the United States as an example of a free society? Henceforth and until further notice we will restrict our own freedoms to deny you their example. You have always desired to immigrate to our shores in search of religious liberty and material prosperity? We hereby announce our intention to encourage religious intolerance and impoverish our population. You have long considered America a beacon of freedom and a force for good? Effective immediately we will deny freedom to ourselves and become a force for bad—for indifference, if not outright evil, in the world.
“In a word, we are going on strike. Do not look for our participation in the world of international affairs, because we are withdrawing our involvement in the doings of men. Do not anticipate the export of our Hollywood productions of films and television shows that promote the values of liberty, opportunity, and justice, because we shall now make them for and distribute them solely among ourselves, and they shall be about servitude, hopelessness, and things like that. Do not expect foreign aid for your populations or the arrival of Peace Corps volunteers to help with your latest efforts to build a school or inoculate your village against polio, because you have done us ill and hurt our feelings. If you change your mind, we will be where we have always been, in the northern hemisphere, between Mexico and Canada. If you decide to behave differently, and can provide convincing evidence to that effect, we will be only too happy to review it. Until then, however, we wish not to be contacted, and we’d appreciate it if you would take our name off any international communications, telexes, mail postings, diplomatic cables, and broadcasts. Thank you, and good night.”
Chapter 5
On the Being of Existence
A muffled roar could be heard as Regnad switched off the rocket engines once the ship was safely back on its launch pad on Earth. He looked around, an expression of baffled amusement flitting over his unutterably lovely Swedish piratical features, while attending with cool precision and clean, flawless skill every task required of him.
“What’s that noise?” he asked Sanfrancisco, who had spent the entire flight back lounging in the co-pilot’s chair, outwardly reading a motorcycle magazine while, at the edge of his mind and part-way in toward the interior of it, marshalling his intelligence to address a vexing problem concerning the dispersal coefficients of aerosolized powder. “I thought I told you to turn off the ventilation system.”
“I did,” Sanfrancisco replied with flippant unconcern. “I guess John’s design for the exhaust fan was flawed.”
From her seat beside a window, Dragnie looked out onto the area around the launch pad, her expression of purest calm unaltered by the stunned amazement, or anything else, that she felt. “That’s not the sound of the exhaust fan,” she murmured, then tilted her chin toward the vista outside the glass. “It’s them.”
In a single uninterrupted motion, Hunk Rawbone transported his body to the main hatch and worked its mechanism. The moment it swung open a deafening roar flooded into the control room. “John?” he said. “Look.”
John Glatt, responding instinctively to the mention of his own name, joined Rawbone at the hatch. The rest of the crew gathered behind them. Outside a tumultuous crowd had gathered. As one, when they saw the hatch open and the ship’s crew step out, the multitude cheered. They cheered as crowds have cheered for millennia the return of conquering armies, the arrival of admired kings, the celebration of praised heroes waving from convertible automobiles as they are paraded down Main Street. Many of them held aloft signs they had created by their own hand, signs which read “WE LOV YOU JON GLAT” and “DOWN WITH MR JENKINS!” and “JHON GLATT IS OUR LEADER.” Making their way through the throng, Dragnie and the others were applauded, their backs were slapped, they were waved at and hugged and kissed. Mothers held babies aloft to burn into their infantile awareness the significance of the occasion. An old woman in a threadbare shawl had tears in her eyes. A man who looked like a factory worker held out the colloquial American gesture of a thumb’s up. Another man, who looked like a white collar worker, made the a-okay sign with his thumb and index finger. A man who looked like he might be a farmer chewed on a piece of straw and, his weathered face firmly affixed to his graying head, nodded wisely. A woman who looked like a mother of two clasped her hands in gratitude. An elderly couple, who looked like they had one son who was a dermatologist in Sarasota, Florida, married to an Italian girl and with a boy toddler who was allergic to pistachio nuts, and a daughter named Corinne doing graduate studies in anthropology at UCLA while working part-time waiting tables in an exclusive restaurant, smiled.