Arena One: Slaverunners by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

prominent people of both parties were the ones who were most extreme, each taking more and more extreme positions to outdo the other, positions, he said, that they didn’t even truly believe in themselves but that they were backed into a corner to take. Naturally, when the two parties debated, they could only collide with each other—and they did so with harsher and harsher words. At the beginning, it was just name calling and personal attacks. But over time, the verbal warfare escalated. And then one day, it crossed a point of no return.
    One day, about ten years ago, a fateful tipping point came when one political leader threatened the other with one fateful word: “secession.” He said that if the Democrats tried to raise taxes even one more cent, his party would secede from the union. He said that every village, every town, every state would be divided in two. Not by land, but by ideology. Adding to this, his timing couldn’t have been worse: at that time, the nation was struggling with a depression, and there were enough malcontents out there, fed up with the loss of jobs, to gain him popularity. The media loved the ratings he got, and they fed him more and more air time. Soon his popularity grew. Eventually, with no one to stop him, with the Democrats unwilling to compromise, and with momentum carrying itself, his idea hardened. His party proposed their nation’s own flag, and even their own currency.
    That was the first tipping point. If someone had just stepped up and stopped him then, it may all have stopped. But no one did. So he pushed further.
    Emboldened, this politician took it further: he proposed that the new union also have its own police force, its own courts, its own state troopers—and its own military. That was the second tipping point.
    If the Democratic President at the time had been a good leader, he might have stopped things then. But he worsened the situation by making one bad decision after another. Instead of trying to calm things, to address the core needs that lead to such discontent, he instead decided that the only way to quash what he called “the Rebellion” was to take a hard line: he accused the entire Republican leadership of sedition. He declared martial law, and one night, during the middle of the night, had them all arrested.
    That escalated things, and rallied their entire party. It also rallied half the military. People were divided, within every home, every town, every military barracks; slowly, tension built in the streets, and neighbor hated neighbor. Even families were divided.
    One night, those in the military leadership loyal to the Republicans followed secret orders and instituted a coup, breaking them out of prison. There was a standoff. And on the steps of the Capitol building, the first fateful shot was fired. A young soldier thought he saw an officer reach for a gun, and he fired first. And once the first soldier fell, there was no turning back. The final line had been crossed. An American had killed an American. A firefight ensued, with dozens of officers dead. The Republican leadership was whisked away to a secret location. And from that moment on, the military split into. The government split in two. Towns, villages, counties, and states all split in two. This was known as the First Wave.
    During the first few days, crisis managers and government factions desperately tried to make peace. But it was too little, too late. Nothing seemed able to stop the coming storm. A faction of hawkish generals took matters into their own hands, wanting the glory, wanting to be the first in war, wanting the advantage of speed and surprise. They figured that crushing the opposition immediately was the best way to put an end to all of this.
    The war began. Battles ensued on American soil. Pittsburgh became the new Gettysburg, with two hundred thousand dead in a week. Tanks mobilized against tanks. Planes against planes. Every day, every week, the violence escalated. Lines were