#wb.astrorahi

Mean latin women seldom ever cheer him back — if the ones running the Cartel are any indication of it —, but Rahi still laughs as meets the girl’s glass in a toast. 

“Okay,” Rahi nods, following along. Immediately, his brain starts to break it all down: “There are approximately 35,000 cities and incorporated municipalities in the U.S. How many neighborhoods in those?” Fishing out a pen from his pocket, and a napkin left forgotten on the counter, Rahi scribbles every number that comes to mind. “Some of these will be hamlets that aren't big enough to have multiple neighborhoods. On the other hand, some unincorporated areas have a decent number of residents and might be considered ‘neighborhoods’, which probably wouldn’t be officially recognized by the government.” 

A scribbled equation here and there. So far, it makes little sense. The black ink bleeds, becoming blurry almost upon contact.

“...There’s maybe about uh, 250, 300 cities — with over 100,000 residents. If assume each of to have 10 or more neighborhoods — I mean, maybe over 50 in a very large city.” 100, 10, 50. Add, subtract, multiply, backflip, and roll again. He draws a circle around the end result. “Right, so between 100,000 and 150,000 neighborhoods. Let’s go with 125 for ease.” 

Rahi looks up at her as though it’s an actual, feasible plan. “We’d just have to form one-hundred and twenty-five thousand new small governments.” He flips the napkin — more math ensues. “If we do one a day, it would just take...” Well, that’s a bummer. “342 years.” 

"For an anarchist, you're very eager to form a government," Xuan smiles. She jests, albeit with a lot of teeth. "I'm thinking of creating self-sufficient neighbourhoods. Each area can independently take care of their food, water and energy needs, and regions can naturally trade resources with each other. Though, sure, some elected body would have to operate as the head."

She leans over and taps on his chicken-scratch scrawls.

"Anyway, most of the 125,000 current officially-designated neighbourhoods likely have a de facto leader already, and if there isn't yet, then someone will eventually emerge. Forming a local representative won't be an issue."

Frankly, she doesn't really care for the actual number. No point in debating the actual logistics, given that the notion of living without a government is widely rejected by the mass population. Nonetheless, she considers what this data-driven guy has said, synthesizing his math into her point-of-view.

She spins her empty beer pint 'round and 'round and slowly nods. "But you're correct. Would be centuries for the scheme to work — if it will be successful at all. Cities would struggle to be self-sufficient since condos and apartments aren't built for such purpose."

Now she gets all sober again.

“I guess, yeah,” Rahi answers quietly. This is something he can’t argue against — hell, even the anarchist group he’s a part of has a leader to guide them through. One could argue it’s hypocritical, but others could argue back that it must be done. You can’t simply take on the government of the United States without being somewhat neatly organized. He nods, “It’s the best we have for now. ...I’m hoping not forever.”

What irony, that his heart is split between the two sides: lawful, such as Abel and Alan — and the unlawful, such as Milo, Lonnie, and the rest of the Brotherhood. Last but not least, one mustn’t forget he’s an active member of NASA too. Awful as the idea may be, there’s no rocket launches without abundant public funds.

“In Mexico?” He asks, recalling the story. “Yeah. But Cherán is tiny — how many residents? 10k? Versus our 300 million?” Rahi laughs, but not in a mocking way. It’s far too sincere and almost awkward, like the engineer he is — trying to round up the numbers. 

Numbers first, plans later. “...Maybe all we need is an army of latin women to sort it out for us.” Another heart-felt laugh, and a shrug. “The only ones I know are kind of mean.”  

Xuan raises her glass in a cheer and laughs. "Maybe tomorrow, the local army of mean Latin women will seize NYPD's HQ and chase off the gangs, and New York will be the next Cherán."

She has just enough alcohol in her system to feel bigger-than-life, excited after meet a like-minded, albeit reluctant, person. She spreads her arms, gesturing widely, words tripping out of her mouth.

"A country is made out of different states, different areas, and different neighbourhoods. Like the federal government is composed of states and municipalities." She makes a hammer motion with her arm. "Target the smallest government unit, and you break the whole system. If each neighbourhood patrol and take care their own area, we're looking at thousands of co-independent Cherán. The feds don't have enough force or power to control all 300 million of people ignoring their order and ready to storm the capital. That's how we take back the power: arm the desperate and the angry."

Rahi blinks, slowly. He reminds himself that he’s an insufferable scientist, and that she’s young and not American. Therefore, an eye-roll can easily be replaced by just a sigh. So, he sighs.

“That’s not how that works,” he says, like it’s simple. “If you voted, then you can and should complain. And, working off the assumption that you’re saying we give them power — then the same people who can give something, can also take it away.” 

Why vote? “Because some of those ‘corrupted bastards’ have bad tax ideas, and others flirt with genocide. It’s simple math.” He holds back from arguing that there’s different kinds of gangsters, too — how it’s a choice between one which destroys private property or one who murders loved ones. He knows where he stands, and the criminals he’s willing to keep as pets. “I mean, I’m an anarchist, but I’m not delusional. I want it all to fucking explode,” — quite literally so — “but until it does, voting unfortunately matters.”

It feels wrong to even go into those whats, buts, and ifs — to defend a system he’s so vehemently against. Rahi takes a sip off his drink then, washing the rancid taste down with alcohol. Still, he’s curious:

“What’s your solution?”

That's not how it works. Xuan almost wants to repeat the same line with air quotation and a sneer. She has heard that too many times, but to hear it from another self-proclaimed anarchist is hilarious -- especially while he's trying to convince her into the government's scheme.

"I guess I'm the other type of anarchist," Xuan says. "Humans are wired to look for a leader -- governments, unfortunately no matter how terrible, serve as our leaders. Blow them up and a worse entity will arise. The vicious cycle continues, whether you vote or not. Yet if we want changes we need a drastic measure. So you're right in that there's no effective solution aside from voting because it's the best we have."

It's delusional, of course, to believe just by voting or protesting people can weed out the evil. American democratically-elected government still destroys individuals' life, infringes on citizens' rights, kidnaps and murders dissenters on islands away from public's eyes. CIA and FBI manufactures criminals and terrorists to instill more fear and gain more control over the stupid mass. Bad tax and forever-wars continue, regardless of how many election cycle they went through.

“‘You’?” Rahi echoes, and deliberately laughs. He’s a science man before he could ever bend himself into a politician, yet one that has always felt passionate for the matter. “I mean, you’re a voter too, right?” He thinks so — otherwise, it would make little sense. “We both do. That’s the people we elected, like it or not.”

Faces slide in and out of the screen. Pretty and ugly transitions, back and back around.

“So either you don’t vote and expect a result you didn’t partake in — or you do vote, and that’s what we get. Being within that percentage of people who elected someone isn’t a bad thing, because at least you showed up and used your voice. If they’re good, great. If they’re bad — we’ll give them hell.”

She cackles. "Bold of you to assume I'm American." It's a reflex reply, more than anything. The world is interested in American politics — everybody has a say on how America should be run, the same way Americans assume they have a say on how the rest of the world should function.

Around them, the bar hums with the evening energy. Somewhere in the corner, a slot machine rings. Xuan gulps down her beer.