Road Island

About the year 6,000 BC, between the Battle for Supremacy and the Sea of Blood battles, a large group of R.O.M.A.N citizens were fed up with being (in their minds) oppressed by the government, and being discriminated against by everybody else in their land. So finally one among their number had what he thought was a marvelous idea.

“We'll start our own government,” he said. “We'll find our own land. We'll make our own rules, and it will be better than what we have to endure now. We will make laws to ensure no one can be oppressed or discriminated against. Every single voice will be heard and will be respected!”

The large group of his companions were pleased by this idea. When they asked him how exactly they would go about this, he had a ready answer for them.

“We will find an island, an uninhabited paradise somewhere far away from everyone else. There we can be left alone to live in peace and finally have the lives we've always dreamt of!”

The large group of his companions were pleased by this idea as well, so they immediately set about making arrangements. Some tried to find and purchase a boat that was sizable enough to carry all of them. Some tried to gather up all the necessary materials for beginning a new nation. Some did the obviously vital work of finding an island they could use in the first place.

After months of intense effort, they had everything secured for the trip, and the day of embarkation was upon them. For days they sailed through all manner of weather until at last reaching their beautiful and long sought after destination.

Their first night at their new island home was spent sleeping on the ship, as they were still somewhat wary of the new territory. When morning reached, however, they set out with fervor to begin assembling their first rudimentary shelters. As none of them were skilled laborers in this field, there was considerable trial, error, frustrations, and finally triumphs as the new homes were completed.

With that necessary work out of the way, they set about to other needed business. Naming their new land, determining exactly their new laws, and electing their new leaders. It came as no surprise to anyone that Maxwell Emerson, the very man who had suggested this plan, won the election in a landslide (coincidentally, his only real opponent, Carl Manderley, would be killed in a literal landslide only days later).

The island was named Road Island, in an attempt to symbolically portray everyone's lives as an endless road in which each individual was free to make their own choices.

While their listing of laws and regulations was expansive, they could be primarily broken down to a few basic standards.

1. Everyone would have his voice heard on matters.
2. Any person could pursue any walk of life they so chose, free of judgment.
3. Any person could seek political office.
4. No person should ever be looked down on for any reason.

Truly, Road Island was to be a land of freedom, happiness, and equality.

For several decades, they handled themselves admirably. Their leaders were male and female, black and white and every other race they had represented on their island. When people began pointing out that they had never elected someone born with albinism, they hastily elected one of their number. When people pointed out that no left hander born with dwarfism had ever been elected, then Road Island elected a left hander with dwarfism in the utmost haste.

Truly, every opportunity was available to everyone.

Truly.

# # #

After over 130 years of freedom, an issue arose. Up to this point, had kept to themselves and had rejected contact with the nearby inhabited islands. However, a neighboring island began suffering an onslaught of monster attacks destroying their stockpiles, followed by a drought that prevented them from replacing their crops. The people were desperate and began reaching out to Road Island for aid. This presented a great challenge to Road Island. Their constitution never set out exactly what to do in this situation. Being the open minded government they were though, they knew to simply leave the matter up to a vote amongst their people. Do we open our arms to strangers we've never encountered in order to show mercy? Or do we ignore the needs of others in order to remain secluded for our own safety and protection?

The votes were cast and tabulated. 49% said help our neighbors. 51% said keep to ourselves. And so the matter was decided.

But the 49% who voted otherwise were uneasy. Their consciences weighed on them every night as they tried to sleep. Shouldn't Road Island have tried doing something, anything to help those less fortunate than themselves?

The matter only became more painful for them when bodies began washing ashore. A hasty inspection proved the obvious to them. These were their neighbors, now long dead from the drought. When they showed these corpses to the 51%, the 51% merely responded that it was none of their business. What happened in other lands wasn't the responsibility of Road Island. It was too bad for those neighbors, but Road Island did not need to do anything about it.

The 49% had never been so sickened. They knew without question something needed to be done to set things right, so if this situation ever came again, Road Island would make the better, the right, the *moral* decision, to use what they had to help.

But what could they do? The people had spoken. Road Island's constitution explicitly stated, in no uncertain terms, that *everyone's* opinion mattered, and the opinion of the 51% was to keep out of other nation's affairs. The 49% quickly realized the natural answer.

“If they vote for something other than what we voted for,” one of them patiently explained, “the law says we must respect that vote. Which we do. But the law doesn't say anything against trying to help them understand our point of view.”

With this simple motivation, the 49% dedicated themselves to bringing about change. Never during political discourse, in which all opinions were valid and equally appreciated. But rather, in ordinary conversation. They would drop a little “Isn't it so sad what happened to that other island?” here, a little “If only there were something we could've done” there, until pretty soon almost every conversation would turn to that idea.

After only a short while, another island neighboring them needed help. Without hesitation the matter was put up to a vote. Would Road Island open up and assist their ailing neighbors, or would they stay out of it like before?

The votes were cast and tabulated. 44% said keep to ourselves. 56% said help our neighbors. And so the matter was decided.

For the first time in their long history, Road Island would drop its figurative walls and embrace other lands, freely using their resources to come to the aid of those needing it. Many lives were saved, and Road Island breathed a sigh of relief as they realized that offering assistance did not harm them in any way.

But the 44% who voted otherwise were uneasy. Yes, they alleviated a disaster in another land, but at what cost? Could Road Island afford to do it again? What if the other islands become dependent on us? How long will it take before, disaster after disaster, Road Island has nothing left for its own people? Think of the children! What kind of a nation will they inherit? Once a beautiful, independent model of a happy society, now wrecked by the involvement of the other governments.

But what could they do? The people had spoken. Road Island's constitution explicitly stated, in no uncertain terms, that *everyone's* opinion mattered, and the opinion of the 56% was to go ahead and start meddling in other nation's affairs. The 44% quickly realized the natural answer.

“If they vote for something other than what we voted for,” one of them patiently explained, “the law says we must respect that vote. Which we do. But the law doesn't say anything against trying to help them understand our point of view.”

With this simple motivation, the 44% dedicated themselves to bringing about change. Never during political discourse, in which all opinions were valid and equally appreciated. But rather, in ordinary conversation. They would drop a little “Ever notice we don't have as much food as before?” here, a little “We're getting a lot of visitors these days” there, until pretty soon almost every conversation would turn to that idea.

After some time, despite their efforts, this strategy didn't seem to have any effect. Road Islandn citizens, by and large, kept supporting the idea of lending aid to others.

# # #

“The constitution *does* say we need to respect everyone's opinion,” said one of their most outspoken members, “but what is disrespect really?”

His question met with a silence that stretched across the room.

“Let me rephrase that,” he continued. “If you express an opinion and I start asking you questions about it, do you feel disrespected?”

Heads all throughout the room shook no.

“Good! In fact, maybe you feel I respect you even *more* because I'm listening to your opinion closely enough that I seek clarification!”

Heads nodded yes, with somewhat more vigor than they had shaken no.

“So now, what if after you've finished expressing yourself, I then begin expressing myself? Is that disrespectful?”

The heads, attuned to bobbing up and down, continued nodding affirmatively, until they quickly readjusted mentally and went back to shaking no.

“So now you've expressed yourself, and I've asked many questions to make sure I clearly understand your point. Then I've expressed myself. What should you now do?”

The heads, which were really beginning to enjoy their bobbing and shaking, were now puzzled at how to respond, and chaotically began to act independently of one another.

“The only polite thing to do,” the loud man continued, “would be to ask *me* questions for clarification. Right?”

The heads beamed with joy and began bobbing up and down once more, thrilled at once again knowing exactly what to do and having the situation under control.

“But what if you don't ask questions for clarity? What might I do?”

The heads froze again. This was becoming something of an emotional roller coaster for them all.

“I would have to provide those points myself!”

Heads nodded. With caution.

“And if some of my points contradict your points, well, there's nothing you can do about it! Right?”

Some heads stopped again. His tone of voice indicated to nod, but his words didn't sound like words to nod to. Finally one of the confused audience members spoke up.

“What exactly are you saying?”

The loud man sighed with exasperation. He thought he had been perfectly clear. “I'm saying that polite conversation isn't cutting it. If we want *real* change in Road Island, we need to air our disagreements in regular political conversations!”

“But that's against the constitution!” someone else exclaimed.

“No it isn't,” he explained, dragging himself through the words. “As long as we're polite and respect their opinion, we can disagree. Just be polite about it!”

With this new strategy in place, the 44% began raising issues and airing disagreements freely, even in political discourse. There was some resistance at first from the 56%, but it was repeatedly explained to them in *very* clear and condescending terms that they were violating the constitution by not allowing the 44% to voice these ideas.

# # #

The 56% began to get worried as they saw their numbers shrink to 55%, then 54%. By time they had reached 53%, they held a meeting to address the situation. After several furtive hours, they determined that perhaps the underlying problems was that the now 47% simply didn't know the neighboring lands well enough. How could they be asked to care about people that they had no acquaintance with? So a proposal was made and passed. Yes, everyone could still vote. Yes, everyone's opinions would still be respected. But *before* you would be allowed to register to vote, you had to be educated properly. Lessons in the history of Road Island and the lofty principles their founding fathers had lived by, and the reasons for having those ideals. Lessons about the history of the other nations around them, and how Road Island had actually *benefited* by reaching out to them. And then after finishing this government sponsored education, and providing proof of having finished it, then and *only* then could someone register to vote. The 53% was in power. They could pass these laws. And now nobody would be able to complain about it unless they were educated.

But the education was *available* to any who wanted. Freedom and equality had to be preserved, of course.

# # #

Another century passed, and the 53% had become firmly entrenched as the dominant political party in Road Island, now calling themselves The Enlightened. The education continued to be mandatory before your vote could be counted, and The Enlightened kept making sure that only teachers who were also among The Enlightened would be allowed to conduct the classes. They insisted this was to ensure that only the highest quality information would be imparted to the students, rather than anything false or (god forbid) politically biased. Yes, by making sure *only* members of The Enlightened taught students could the good citizens of Road Island be assured that they were being taught what was right.

As the population of Road Island kept growing, so did their classes to qualify for voting rights. As the student bodies kept growing larger, the teachers kept getting more burdened, and in turn kept asking for larger salaries and staffs. Soon, the government was unwilling to shoulder the entire expense of sponsoring the classes, and instead determined that it should fall upon the *students* to pay for this education themselves.

At first they asked for reasonable rates. But as the schools increased in prestige, and in turn the teachers themselves grew in prestige, their salaries and operating expenses continued climbing. Within a few decades, classes to qualify to vote became a luxury only affordable by the richest families in Road Island, or among the families that had the necessary connections to get strings pulled and have their children sent for the education.

With every new wave of voting, the few poor who had managed to scrape together enough to purchase the needed voting education would put in their ideas, hoping in some small way to represent the underprivileged, but these were without fail overlooked in favor of the ideas backed by the countless wealthy and powerful among Road Island.

# # #

One day, almost three hundred years after Road Island's inception, a large group of people gathered together. Poor, uneducated, and looked down upon. They were fed up with constantly being oppressed by their government, and being discriminated against by everybody else in their land. So finally one among their number had what he thought was a marvelous idea.

“We'll start our own government,” he said. “We'll find our own land, where we can be left alone to live in peace and finally have the lives we've always dreamt of!We'll make our own rules, and it will be better than what we have to endure now. We will make laws to ensure no one can be oppressed or discriminated against. Every single voice will be heard and will be respected!”