Word pictures

A friend told me she thought I could create equally vivid images with both my pen and my camera.  The header photo is an example of my photographic efforts.  Below is an example of my writing abilities – how a town was founded.  This has been extracted from a piece I’m working on. I’d appreciate feedback and comments on this.  Thanks.

After taking a sip of my drink, I said to him  “Yesterday you said you’ve been coming into the pharmacy for fifty years.  Could you give me a bit of the history of Fletcher’s Corners?   Looking around I get the impression that Fletcher’s Corners wasn’t always just a small town and I wouldn’t mind knowing more.”

He stared at me across the table and threw back his beer.  I signalled Bert to bring him another and after thanking me, he began.  “Well young lady, first off, how long have you been in town?”  I told him and he nodded.  “You friendly with many of the townsfolk?  I  allowed that Owen Fletcher and I occasionally went sailing together, admitting that was more because while I enjoyed sailing I didn’t own a boat, but “I wouldn’t call us buddy-buddy.”

Again he nodded.  “Good.”  He paused and finished off his beer.  Once more I signalled Bert.  “First off, what’s your name young lady?  I like to know the name of the person I’m talking with.”

I told him and he stuck his hand across the table and said “Pleased to meet you Patricia Keys.  I’m Walter Talbot, but folks just call me ‘Old Wally’.  You planning on changing the name of the store?”

That had originally been one of my first priorities, but other things had rearranged my list so that item was now well down and falling fast.  “No, I think I’ll leave it as ‘Robert’s Drugs’.  Everybody in town knows it as that and I’m not vain enough that I have to have my name on the store.”

Wally grunted.  “Good.  Bobby changed it when he took over and it took most of twenty years before folks here started calling it ‘Bobby’s’ instead of ‘Jackson’s’.  Don’t worry Pat, people here will know your name whether you advertise it or not.

“Now, Fletcher’s Corners.  The town was started a couple of hundred years ago by Owen Fletcher.  The present Owen Fletcher is his great-grandson.  Owen was a doctor of some sort – nobody ever saw a diploma, but back then this was mostly wilderness and if somebody said they were a doc, and their treatment didn’t kill you, their claim was accepted.  Anyway, Owen Fletcher married into money.  He bought a couple of sections of land here, then built a big house on the best land. That house is now the office building at the hospital.

” Anyway,  it seems that some of Owen’s in-laws were ‘tetched’ and Owen offered to put them up.  After all, his big house was almost empty, what with just him, Lavinia, his wife and their infant son and the company would be welcome.  The families offered to subsidize their relatives’ keep, so Owen wasn’t doing it just out of the goodness of his heart.  One thing led to another and before he knew it, friends of the family were asking for the same thing.  Of course since they had offered to pay him for the upkeep, he couldn’t say ‘no’.  Well, eventually his house began to get awful crowded.  Something happened one day, he never said what for sure and my granddaddy didn’t ask, and the next thing the town knew, Owen’s got contractors out there on the point putting up this huge dormitory.”

He paused for breath and another sip of beer and I glanced at my watch.  “Wally, I’ve got to get back to the shop.  After you’re finished here, could you come by and tell me more.”

Glancing around the room, which was now filling up with the lunch crowd, he said “Sure.  It’ll be a lot more private than this anyhow.”

Half an hour later Wally entered the store and looked furtively around.  “You alone?” he asked.

“Yes.  There’s no-one here except you and me and all these pills.”

“Good.  Now, where was I?  Oh yeah.

“As I said, Owen had this huge dormitory built to house all these relatives and friends of relatives.”  Nodding at the street through the window, he continued.  “That was the Post Road back when this place was founded.  First Avenue used to be the side road leading from the Post Road down to the landing.  The people Owen hired to work in the hospital built homes around the junction for the social aspects.  Life was a little easier if there were always people around other than the people you worked with.  Same thing’s still true.  As the hospital grew, more and more people moved in and soon we had people opening shops of all kinds.  At its peak, Fletcher’s Corners probably had close to twelve hundred people living here.  We had the usual greengrocers, milliners, a draper, a livery stable, two banks and a post office not to mention about ten or twelve taverns.

“The town pretty well kept its size until the railways and trucks started taking all the freight from the boats, then it shrunk.   The bypass pretty well spelled the end for a lot of the businesses, since they had relied a lot on the through traffic. Over the last ten or fifteen years though, its started growing again as people move out of the cities in search of a bit of peace and quiet.”

Just then the door opened and a couple entered and greeted me.  As I filled their prescription, they chatted pleasantly with me, totally ignoring Wally, sitting right beside them.  After they left, still not having acknowledged Wally’s existence, I asked him about it.

“Well, now’s about a good a time as any to get into the pecking order of Fletcher’s Corners.  Back then there were three main families:  The Fletchers naturally, since it was Owen’s business that was the main reason for the town; the Harrises – old man Harris owned the biggest tavern in town as well as running the post office; and the Talbots.”  I looked up in surprise.  Wally grinned and said  “Yup.  My grandfather ran the bank – the one that went out of business.   As I said, we had two banks here in town, the Talbot Bank, and one other one that became the current branch.  Fletcher kept the hospital accounts with the Talbot Bank until the major bank took over the other one, then changed.  The loss of those lucrative accounts resulted in grandpappy closing down.  Until then the Fletchers and the Talbots had been pretty close and just about ran Fletcher’s Corners as their private kingdom.   So, after the bank shut down, the Talbot’s opened an apothecary shop – this one.   I said that my grandfather ran one of the banks here and had a fair bit of power in the area.  As a matter of fact, before this place was called Fletcher’s Corners, people used to call it Talbot’s Corners.  But as more and more of the residents began to be Fletcher employees, it started being called Fletcher’s instead of Talbot’s.  I don’t mind really; having your family name on a village isn’t all that great.  People think that just because your name is the same as the village, you can fix up any little problem they may have.  But, I’m wandering here.  At one point, from what I’ve been told, both Owen Fletcher and my grandpappy decided that Malcolm Harris shouldn’t have the post office franchise as well as the tavern, so between them they convinced the government to give it to someone else.  As it turned out, Mal was making more from the post office than his tavern, so by taking it away, grandpappy and Fletcher had severely reduced his income.  Things got worse for the Harrises since Malcolm was a gambler who had more money than card sense and eventually he lost the tavern too.  Malcolm claimed that Owen Fletcher and Alexander Talbot had plotted against him just to gain control of the tavern.  It wasn’t true, or so my grandmother always told me, but the Harris family has had no time since for either the Talbots or the Fletchers.  Jack Richards there is a descendant of Malcolm Harris.  That’s why neither of them would even admit you had someone here with you.”  Wally glanced at the clock on the wall.  “I’ve been boring you long enough young lady.  If you’ve a mind, stop by Bert’s once you close this place and I’ll let you buy me another beer while I tell you more about this hellish place.”  And with that, he left.

Sound reasonable?  Let me know.  Thanks,


Adolescence for trans 101

This could very easily be subtitled “Things I’ve learned over the past nineteen years”.

No matter what your age, when you begin this journey and start hormones you will revisit what may not have been one of the more enjoyable parts of your life – adolescence. Some people experience the wonderful affliction known as acne (ugh). I’m not an expert, so I’m not going to discuss that. But there are other areas where I may be able to provide advice and/or information.

Let’s start with makeup. A good rule of thumb when it comes to makeup is “less is more”. Keep in mind that the use of cosmetics is to enhance one’s natural beauty, not create a mask. If necessary, ask a friend for advice and help. Have her show you how to apply it properly. I have been fortunate in that my best friend did hair and makeup in the Toronto film industry and has been extremely helpful. If you are unable to find a friend to help, consider going to a stylist for tips. Personal observation – I know some makeup artists will tell you that you need foundation, but keep in mind that most foundations will clog your pores.

Okay, we’ve got your face made up, now to decide what you’re going to wear. I’m not going to bother you with a lecture on dressing in a style appropriate to your age. I can’t, unless I want to be a hypocrite. I’m 71 years old and very fond of miniskirts (much to the chagrin of my BFF), so all I’ll say is wear what you feel comfortable wearing. In defence of my minis, I drove a cab for seven years and found I did much better on tips whenever I wore a mini. Also, dress appropriately for the weather. If you live in Canada or the northern US, you’ll probably find that in winter fashion goes out the window in favour of comfort.

Wait, you’re not ready to walk out the door just yet. There’s a couple of things you still have to practice and master. First, your voice and speech patterns.

Unless your normal voice sounds like Barry White, you can probably get away with just raising the pitch of it. I was fortunate in that my normal voice wasn’t that deep, so I can get away with very little modification. I tended to stutter, so had adapted the technique of using a more breathy voice and a slower tempo when I spoke. This had the advantage of greatly reducing the stuttering. A speech therapist noticed this and said I should keep it up for it also made my voice sound more feminine. Something else you have to consider is speech patterns. You may not have paid much attention too it in the past, but women don’t use the same speech patterns as do men. As a writer, I’m constantly paying attention to speech patterns as well as dialects whenever I’m out for possible use for a character. Listen to women speak and you’ll see what I mean.

Next, men are usually more aggressive than women and this shows in their gestures, which tend to be “large” for lack of a better word – more sweeping and aggressive. Women don’t tend to do that, so you’ll have to learn to dial down the aggression in the movements. This will take practice on your part and you’ll have to monitor your actions carefully until the more refined movements become second nature. Yes, there are women who do use grand gestures, but they are usually considered less than ladylike.

Something else you will have to work on is the way you walk. Men usually have a longer stride than women and walk at a faster pace. This too will take practice and constant monitoring on your part. I found one way I was able to slow my pace and reduce the length of my strides was to wear heels. I just couldn’t walk as I used to while wearing heels without putting my ankles at risk.

Hair is another area you may have to consider. If you’re able to grow your hair out, more power to you. I couldn’t do that because I started in my mid-50’s. My hair was reasonably long, but wouldn’t grow out any more. Since I’m not fond of wigs (they feel like hats) I went for weaves. Yes, they can be expensive and have to be replaced every two months at most, but they do work. When they got to be too expensive for my limited income, I did have to resort to wigs. The estrogen seems to be affecting the growth of my hair and it is now growing at a rapid rate, so after consultation with a friend who does hair and makeup in the Toronto film industry, and my hairdresser, we decided to let my own hair grow, then have it shaped into a bob. Once it reaches an acceptable length, we’ll colour it.

Please, please bear in mind that much of what follows is applicable in the Province of Ontario only. Laws and requirements will vary with your province or state of residence. Since you now look like the person you always knew you were, it’s time to change name and gender on your documents. In Ontario, it is possible to change the name on your driver’s permit simply on the strength of a letter stating such change is necessary from your doctor.

The rest of the documents require government forms and a lot of patience. Changing the name on your birth certificate requires sending them all kinds of information – the names of your parents; information on both your financial history and criminal background. This latter information is to make sure you’re not changing your name to avoid criminal prosecution or escape bankruptcy. They will also ask why you want to change your name and what name you want. Once you have the form filled out, it must be notarized. **HINT** Most lawyers will charge between $75 and $100 to notarize a document. Most town and city halls have a “commissioner of oaths” on staff who can do the same thing for much less. In Ajax, where I live, the cost was $20. When you’ve followed all the steps, you need payment of $137 then send everything to the Registrar-General for the Province of Ontario. And you wait.

In October of 2013, the government of Ontario changed the requirements for changing the gender on birth certificates. Surgery is no longer required. Another government form (and payment of $97) along with a letter from you doctor stating the doctor has treated you for “x” many years and the change is necessary. After notarizing this, it to gets sent to the Registrar-General. And more waiting. They usually say 6 weeks.

On the bright side, the Minister of Citizenship and Immigration quietly announced in February 2015 that citizens would be allowed to change their federal documentation on self-identification. So once you have your Ontario documents, you can change any federal documentation at no cost. Except the passport. This will require applying for a new one in your new name and gender and paying the appropriate fee.


Surgery is a very personal decision and I won’t try to influence you one way or the other.  Personally I will say the clinic declined to operate on me for other medical reasons.  If you decide the surgery isn’t for you, or like me there are other medical conditions, there are some alternatives to the full SRS.  There is an operation called an orchiectomy, or orchidectomy, that removes the testes.  This greatly reduces the amount of testosterone the body produces.  There is also a version of this surgery that also removes the scrotum.  Either of these will leave you with what is effect a catheter made of your own flesh.

Breast enhancement is another area of concern for many trans women.  In Ontario it is considered cosmetic and not covered by the provincial health plan.  But, there are certain conditions that will be covered. One of these is called “aplasia”, which basically is lack of growth of breast tissue. If you’re not happy with your breast development, discuss these possibilities with your doctor, but I warn you, many doctors are not aware of the conditions or that they are covered under OHIP.  I have in my possession (somewhere) documentation from OHIP that describes these covered conditions.  Send me a personal message and I’ll send you copies of what I have to show your medical practitioner.

I hope the things I mention in this essay will help you avoid some of the pitfalls and minefields as you embark on your new life. If you live in Ontario this may help you navigate the government requirements. And the federal information may also prove helpful.

Enjoy your new life – you’ve earned it.


New fiction Yorkland Part 3 Xaja

Yorkland 3
© 2009 gch
Almost two centuries have passed since the events in “Partition.” The dissidents have changed their focus from reuniting with Canada to regaining the personal freedoms lost after the Stoney Creek massacre.

Xaja put down her writing instrument and massaged her hand. “I can’t believe people actually used this method to prepare hard copy. I’ve been at it for thirty minutes and all I have to show for cramped fingers is my name. Look!” She picked up the piece of paper and waved in the direction of her brother. “Adon, turn around and see what I’ve done.”

Adon turned the sound down on his terminal and swivelled his chair around. “Hold it still so I can see it.” He saw a piece of paper from the printer, blank except for the messy word X A J A printed in the centre. “Not bad, but if you wanted a sign, why not print one up? It’d be faster and, if you don’t mind me saying so, a damn sight neater.” Turning back to his computer, he continued, “Why this sudden interest in that – whatever it’s called?”

“You know I don’t like talking to your back. Turn around, please.” He swung around again, then she continued. “According to something I saw on the computer today, this is how things were printed before computers. It’s called . . . let me think . . . “ she paused. “Let’s see. ‘Handwriting!’ That’s it. And people used it to prepare documents.”

Adon laughed. “Right. Next you’ll be telling me Shakespeare did all his plays that way. Xi, think about it. You just spent half an hour on those four characters. At that rate, old Willie would never have finished one play. Just the title ‘King Gord’ would have taken an hour. Trust me on this sis, William Shakespeare used a word processor.” He laughed again. “One more thing to consider: how else could he have made copies for the actors? You can’t honestly believe they were all done by hand? Sorry sis, whatever you read was wrong.”

Xaja sat, still rubbing her hand. There were times she thought her brother purposely tried to belittle every single thing she tried and she was certain this was one of those times. His logic was flawed. It was common knowledge the first computers didn’t arrive from the Orient until the late eighteenth century. That being the case, it was impossible for Shakespeare to have used one. Nothing else made sense, despite Adon’s comments.

She stated at the page she had laboured over and tried to imagine a world without computers; a world where all documents were prepared by hand. How would such a world function? First, a logical assumption would be than not everyone had mastered the art of handwriting. There obviously would be specialists in the field, just as there were specialists now. More than likely, people would visit this “writer” and dictate their message to a disc recorder. They would then return later for the hard copy. Yes, that made sense. The longer she considered it, the more sense it made. These professionals would do the actual handwriting, while other people carried on in their own areas of expertise. After all, there was a university degree called “Doctor of Letters.” It was mostly honorary now, but at one time it must have been granted to the “writers.” The thought staggered her. These ancients had doctorates to ply their trade and here she had been thinking it would be easy.

“Hey, Xaja. I found something interesting here about your new hobby. Come see this.”

“Read it to me.”

Adon peered at the screen. “This says that handwriting was first invented in the nineteenth century by somebody named ‘Job’. Hey! Seeing how long you took with just four characters, maybe that’s the origin of the saying ‘the patience of Job’!” He paused and glanced at his sister. Seeing no reaction, he continued. “It says the invention (or discovery) caused a panic among printer manufacturers.”

“Dear Adon. Sometimes you are so gullible. What, are you hooked into some fantasy site? Brother mine, think back to your school history. Job invented the telephone in the late 1600’s.” She shook her head. Adon had always been the one to believe everything he saw on the screen, even if it completely contradicted the previous screen. But this was something special in that he was researching her latest interest rather than laughing at it. She picked up the writing instrument. “According to the antique dealer who sold me this, um, ‘pen,’ handwriting predates computers. He said . . .” Xaja paused as both computers chimed. The screens blinked as their data disappeared and was replaced with an image of the Parliament Buildings, which had the words “Special Bulletin” superimposed.

“Now what?” grumbled Adon. “Did the PM pass gas or something?” As he spoke the image changed to show the minister responsible for the Bureau of Investigative Activities. She looked up from her notes.

“Good evening. This will be a brief statement and there will be a few questions afterward.

“Today, we have decoded the disk found taped to the front doors of Chatham City Hall two days ago. At this time we will not release the contents of that disk. From our inquiries, we have determined this was the action of a single individual. Thank you.”

The reporters gathered before her were silent for a moment, then “Madame Minister, could you perhaps tell us if the disk contained one document or several and, do you have a suspect in mind, and if so, would you tell us the name of this person?”

The minister smiled. “When I said a few questions, I didn’t think they’d all come from one person in one breath. There was one document with a total of ninety-five clauses or demands. An eyewitness has identified one Marter Luthin of Tilbury as the person responsible.

“I think that should answer all your queries. We will issue further bulletins as more information becomes available. Now, good night, ladies and gentlemen of the media.”
The screen went blank.

Xaja stated at Adon. “Marter! What has he gone and done now?”

Adon shook his head. “Who knows Xi. With him it could be just about anything, but from the tone of the announcement it sounds as if he’s stirred up major trouble for all of us this time, although I certainly hope it’s just a case of the government over-reacting.”

Adon turned to his computer and set about surfing the newsnets, searching for more information. His search revealed only that all the private nets as well as the public one, were carrying repeats of the Minister’s brief announcement. Of course, they all had their own tame talking heads attempting to decipher “what it all meant.” That none of them had seen the disk or its contents didn’t matter. They were being paid by the net to sound intelligent and knowledgeable, so they were going to earn their keep.

A little icon in the top corner began flashing. This was tied to an e-mail address that very few people knew of and messages could only be left after the sender entered a special code. Adon suspended his surfing and clicked on the icon. “Xaja, you need to read this as well.”

Xaja turned from her monitor and joined her brother. “Who’s it from?”

Adon looked at the coding at the top. “Wes.”

“What’s he have to say for himself?”

Adon quickly scanned the message before answering. “He says it wasn’t Marter, that Marter was nowhere near Chatham that night. They were both in Toronto. He doesn’t know who did it, but says he’s confirmed the so-called “eyewitnesses” are employed by the Bureau of Investigative Activities. He feels this is a set-up and they’re using it as a pretext to go after Marter.”

Xaja sighed. “Poor Marter. If he’d only learn when to shut up, he could accomplish so much more. But, for some reason he seems to think that by being loud and disruptive, he can effect great changes.

“Hasn’t he learned anything from the past? Didn’t the ill-fated revolt Louis Riel Dumont led have anything to say to him? Did he not scan the history of Yorkland at the time of the Dumont Rebellion and see how thoroughly it was crushed? Or look at the first citizens’ revolt, the Albert Johnston uprising, the one put down by Vanessa Anderson?”

Adon shook his head slowly. “I don’t think Marter is even aware Dumont tried to overthrow the government or that there was a previous attempt. Maybe I should send a link to his website.”

“And how do you plan on doing that without getting caught? By carrier pigeon? Come on Adon, you know how dangerous that would be, especially now that they’re looking for Marter.”

“Xi, Xi, I’m not that stupid. I’m just saying it might be an idea if someone could teach Marter a bit of history. Don’t worry little sister, I won’t do anything foolish.” That last was more a dig at her size than the fact he was the older of the two. She was petite while he towered close to two metres tall. Adon resumed his surfing and Xaja returned to her handwriting, each thinking their own thoughts.

Since the abortive Dumont attempt, Yorkland had increasingly become a police state. Vanessa Anderson’s stated goal of a standing army equal to five percent of the population had long ago been surpassed. Adon and his sister were involved with – in fact were the actual leaders of – a group dedicated to restoring the personal freedoms enjoyed prior to the appearance on the scene of one Louis Riel Dumont. Both siblings were aware that Marter Luthin was a loose cannon and was advocating another citizen’s revolt, and both were also aware that, especially in view of the restrictions placed upon the citizenry, such armed revolt would meet the same fate as the first two. Their plans were more subtle and of a longer range than a simple uprising.

They were also aware that the second Riel Rebellion had been brought down through the actions of a mole on the central committee. That mole had been their great-grandfather, Paul Milton. Politics being a family heritage, Adon and Xaja worked within the system, near the edge of legality, but strictly within the system. Several decades ago, the government had relaxed some of the restrictions imposed and allowed “free” elections again, although in most ridings, there were few opposition candidates. The only similarity between their plan and that of Louis Riel Dumont was that theirs too depended upon an election being called. The group headed by the brother and sister team wasn’t concentrated in Toronto, but was spread out across all of Yorkland. It, unlike the Dumont cabal, was overt rather than covert.

The siblings were able to function openly because they had registered as a political party, which they called the New Freedom Party. At the moment, neither was head of that party, but were listed in the documents as members of the executive committee. This is why their final success or failure depended upon an election being called.

Finally, the government did call an election. The polls, rigged of course, showed the government had an approval rating of over sixty percent, so there appeared to be no danger of losing power. This was the moment the group had been waiting for. The day following the dropping of the writ, the head of the NFP resigned and named Xaja leader pro tem and the executive committee very quickly made that permanent.

One reason the government had run without opposition was their use of strong-arm tactics. Opposing candidates were bullied or frightened into withdrawing from the race. On some occasions, particularly stubborn candidates met with unfortunate accidents. As much as they were reluctant to do so, after losing several candidates to fatal incidents, such as brake failure on winding roads, Xaja and Adon agreed they would have to adapt the same tactics if they were to stand any chance at all in the upcoming election.

The campaign was more a verbal donnybrook than reasoned and impassioned rhetoric. The candidates for the governing party, rather than tell the people what they would do, spent most of their time smearing the New Freedom Party candidates. While the NFP candidates for the most part stuck with the party platform, rather than retaliate directly, there were allusions to the past performance and heavy-handedness of their worthy opponent and the party they chose to represent.

For most voters, the campaign couldn’t end soon enough. While they were interested in what the New Freedom Party had to say, they couldn’t take the mudslinging from the ruling party, not could they take the intimidation factor.

Political gatherings, as with churches, had been excluded from the ban on assemblies, but were monitored closely. All-candidate meetings often consisted of the government candidate, the NFP candidate, loyal supporters of the government, the family and close friends of the NFP candidate and a dozen or so soldiers around the assemblage. Cowed by the presence of the military, those few ordinary voters who did venture in usually remained silent.

Among the supporters of the NFP were some members of the military. These came from all ranks and had formed a loose association. When the election was called, they were aware that, should the NFP actually win a majority, they may have to take quick action to prevent the newly defeated government attempting to stage a coup. Consequently they had made plans that those they considered loyal to the NFP, or to Xaja herself, would be not only on base, but armed, on election day.

The day of the election was bright and sunny, belying the tension felt by the citizens of Yorkland. The media, who had been keeping track of the campaign, were saying this could be the most important election in the short history of Yorkland. At the polling stations, the government’s intimidation continued, with armed soldiers being very visible at the entrances. There were few incidents, although several people were hustled off in custody before they had a chance to cast their ballot. A reporter on the scene noted that those who were detained all wore campaign buttons from the NFP candidate in that particular riding, but wisely did not include that fact in his report.

Yorkland, because of it’s size, was all in one time zone, so all the polls closed at the same time, therefore the results began flowing very soon after that hour. Initial results showed the government would retain its hold on power. The major media outlets, never willing to bite the hand that feeds them, or in this case allowed them to exist, were quick to declare the government had won the election. Thirty minutes later the talking heads and pundits were scrambling to explain the sudden surge in votes for the NFP and the fact they appeared to have taken several key ridings. Many variations of “it’s not over until it’s over” were heard through the media over the next hour or so, as the NFP collected riding after riding.

Keeping tabs on the election results, the ranking officer of the NFP cabal in the military mobilized his men, ordering them to keep the commanding officers of their respective bases under close confinement. This resulted in several irate colonels yelling at lower ranks when orders to stand down were refused. It also brought a few surprises when the base commander revealed that he too supported the NFP and would cause no problems for the other supporters.

As had been expected, when the Prime Minister learned that not only was his party being soundly trounced by this upstart New Freedom Party, but that he’d lost his own seat to the NFP candidate, he called the man who had been his Minister of Defence, only to learn that person had also lost his seat.

The PM’s next call was to the Army Chief of Staff, General Walters. This worthy was sitting in his study listening to the election results and working on his computer when the telephone rang. He answered it to hear the Prime Minister’s panicked voice.

“General Walters! Have you been watching the election results? We can’t let this happen! We can’t lose power! Order your troops into the streets. I want the NFP ground into dust by morning. I want Xaja Milton in chains at my door by dawn!”

General Walters saved what he’d typed and turned his full attention to the former Prime Minister. “I’m sorry sir, but you are no longer the head of government according to the will of the people. Therefore you have no right to order me to do anything.” General Walters lived in the riding Xaja had contested and had in fact voted for her with a smile on his face.

General Walters had received his officer’s training at Sandhurst in England and had always disliked the way the government had used and abused what he called “his men” to maintain an iron grip on Yorkland. He couldn’t see staging a coup, which some of his junior officers had proposed on more than one occasion, but now that a truly free and honest election had ousted the regime, he was damned if he’d help it maintain power illegally. “It appears that Xaja Milton is, or will be in a few hours, the new Prime Minister of Yorkland, so I will wait and see what orders, if any, she has for me. Now, good night sir.” He hung up and returned to the monitor screen, quietly reading what he’d written.

Effective immediately, 2200 hours on this date, I order all members of the Armed Forces of Yorkland to stand down. Under no circumstances is any person of any rank to accept an order from a member or former member of the just defeated government.

As the people have chosen to elect a majority of members of the New Freedom Party, the loyalty of the Armed Forces will be to Yorkland, the Armed Forces, and the New Freedom Party.

Failure to obey this directive will be considered grounds for court-martial.

Nodding and smiling to himself, he clicked on “send” and all base commanders, as well as certain members of the cabal who’d been sent blind copies, received their instructions.

The people had also been following the election reportage with more than great interest. Once it became clear that the NFP had defeated the government, they congregated in the streets, ignoring the soldiers on patrol. The soldiers themselves, having been made aware of General Walters’s directive, in turn ignored the gathering masses, and in some cases joined them. The civilian police, reasoning that they would be unable to control these crowds without help from the army, which they could see wasn’t going to happen, contented themselves with watching and directing traffic around the mobs.

Those people who lived in Toronto gathered, not on the streets, but on the south lawn of Queen’s Park. As with those in other cities, they were peaceful, just revelling in the fact they could congregate without the soldiers disrupting or arresting them. The police on duty, after an initial slight panic over the gathering mob, resumed their normal task of guarding the entrance.

In two campaign offices, the reactions to the media coverage of this gathering were completely different. In the office of the now former Prime Minister, he was shouting “Why aren’t the police or army breaking up this demonstration? Why are they gathering at Queen’s Park anyway? That ground has been forbidden to them!” He reached for the telephone and called the Chief of Staff again. General Walters answered, heard the voice screaming at him, and hung up silently. Understanding at last that he had lost the backing of the army, and thereby his means of controlling the people, the Prime Minister accepted defeat and reached for the telephone once more. “Get me Xaja Milton.”

In Xaja’s campaign headquarters she, along with her brother and her workers and supporters were overwhelmed by the show of support and quicky decided to make an appearance. Contacting various people, they made their way in a small motorcade to Queen’s Park.

The arrival of the motorcade didn’t attract much attention from the gathered throngs until Xaja stepped out of one of the vehicles. Immediately the quiet was broken as, with one voice, the crowd shouted out her name. While they had been in transit, Xaja had accepted a call from the former Prime Minister acknowledging his loss – ungraciously, but he acknowledged it – and wishing her well.

Making her way to the steps of the legislature, Xaja waited patiently until the crowd grew quieter. One of the officers on guard duty appeared carrying a microphone for her. She accepted the offered device and thanked the officer with a smile. Turning to the crowd, she was silent for a moment, then:

“Thank you all for your support tonight. While I was on my way here, the former Prime Minister called to wish me well as I embark on my new journey.” She turned to look at the people gathered behind her on the steps. “Let me introduce to you some of these people up here with me, for some of them will play a role in how Yorkland proceeds from here.” As she called each name, the party named stepped forward. Finally, there were only two people left. “Next is my brother Adon, without who’s encouragement I couldn’t have made it this far. And finally, we have the Governor-General, who has graciously agreed to administer the Oath of Office on short notice.”

Xaja handed the microphone to the Queen’s representative and stood back while that lady stepped to the edge of the top step. “Thank you. While it is unusual for a successful party leader to be sworn in on the same night they were elected, it is not unprecedented. I won’t bore you with the historical incidents where this has happened before rather, since I can sense you’re in no mood for rhetoric, I’ll just get on with it.”

With those words, Xaja came forward once more, this time to take the oath of office, then began her inauguration speech:

“Good evening. My name is Xaja Anna Monoghan Milton. My great, great grandmother was Anna Milton, one of the architects of Yorkland. Tonight, almost two centuries after she and Vanessa Anderson started this great country on its path, we are once again at a point where Yorkland needs new direction.

“The New Freedom Party made many promises during this campaign and it gives me great pleasure to act on the first of those promises tonight. As of midnight, the imposition of the National Security and Anti-Terrorism Act, under which we’ve lived for the past one hundred and fifty years, will be repealed.”

Anything else Xaja might have had to say was lost to the roar of the crowd as the import of her words sunk in to the watchers. Thirty minutes later, once the applause and cheers had subsided, she continued “This does not mean a suspension of all laws. It means that those restrictions on assembly; on freedom of expression, and the other limitations imposed by that act will no longer be in effect. If you’re drunk in a public place, you can still expect to sober up in jail.” The crowd roared with laughter at this. “All the civil laws are still in place and will be enforced. So behave yourselves accordingly.” She paused again, surveying the crowd, then

“Since I can tell you’re all in the mood for a party, I’ll stop now. The Speech from the Throne to be delivered next week will contain more details on what the New Freedom Party plans.

“Once again, thank you all for your love and support, and Long Live Yorkland!”

The media covering this event turned off their audio equipment lest it be destroyed by the sheer volume of sound from the crowd.

Later, in their apartment, a very exhausted brother and sister watched the replays. “I can’t believe we actually did it Adon. I can’t believe we got rid of that dictator.”

Adon watched the screen. “Don’t be too sure he’s gone for good Xi. Rats like that have a habit of turning up where and when you least expect them.”

The Ontario paper chase

For trans* people in Ontario, changing documents is a strange combination of easy and cheap and difficult and relatively expensive. I say “relatively” because much depends upon your income. As a senior on a government pension, for me it can get expensive. Let’s look at the various documents and the hoops through which the government will make you jump to achieve your goal.

The driver’s permit is probably the easiest (and I wish I’d known about this when I drove): A letter from your doctor stating the change is necessary is sufficient. Cost is apparently zero. Nice.

Before you can change any other documents such as credit cards and any other non-government form of identification, you need to change your name. Most places I contacted with insisted upon a driver’s licence for id. So, first you need a new birth certificate in your chosen name.

The forms are available online. These are “fill and print” documents so you don’t have to worry about messy printing. But since you’re dealing with a government website, finding the documents can be difficult. I found the best way was to go into “search” and enter “application to change an adult’s name”. That “adult” is important for they have several different forms for various reasons the change is required. You will be asked the usual questions; name; address; telephone number. Then they want the name you want to change to and the reasons. Once you’ve answered these, there are a series of questions regarding your criminal and financial information. This may seem like prying, but they’re trying to determine if the name change is to escape either prosecution or bankruptcy. When I answered these questions I was struck by the fact I’ve led a very “white bread” life, for each answer was “no”. Next you must find a guarantor, that is someone from a list they provide who can swear you’ve lived in Ontario for the past 12 months and that they’ve known you at least five years. Now you need a cheque or some form of payment for the $137 fee. Once you have all this, you must have the application notarized. Most lawyers charge between $75 and $100 for this service. But, most town and city halls have a person called a “commissioner of oaths” on staff who will be much cheaper. The town of Ajax, where I live, charges $20 for five signatures. Now it’s off to the post office and sending the application to the Registrar-General for the Province of Ontario located in Thunder Bay. Then you wait approximately six weeks.

In late 2012, Ontario quietly passed legislation allowing trans* people to change the gender marker on their birth certificates without requiring surgery. It may be advisable to do this at the same time you change your name (it all goes to the same office in T Bay). Once again the forms are available online. For this you will require a letter from your doctor stating you’ve lived in your chosen gender for “x” many years and the change is necessary.
The fee for this is $97. This money gets you both the long form (original) birth certificate plus the short, or wallet size, certificate.

Acting on the hope everything gets done at once, when you get your new documents (which, unless things have changed, will be sent to you under your birth name) you can visit the Department of Motor Vehicles and change your licence. For your health card and any other provincial id you may have, you will have to visit Service Ontario as the DMV agent can’t make those changes for you. There is no charge for these changes.

One more thing trans* citizens should be aware of: In February 2015, Citizenship and Immigration Canada (aka “the feds”) quietly passed legislation that allows trans* people to change their federal documents (SIN card, etc) based upon self-identification. Again, there is no charge for this. Your passport is a different story. You must reapply under your new name and gender and pay the appropriate fees.


New fiction: Yorkland part 2 Repression

The only sound was the door as it shut almost inaudibly. The newcomer spoke. “Well, LR, what do you say? Is this viable? Do we go ahead with our plans?”

Louis Riel DuMont sat quietly, staring at the table top. On the face of it, the plan sounded good. But, was that true once he looked into it further? He’d have to give it some more thought. “From what you’ve told me, the basic idea sounds good. But, I’d like to examine it in detail first and see if it couldn’t be refined. This is one of those things that can’t be put into play until the next election, so we don’t have to decide right now. It can wait a couple of days. The Prime Minister isn’t going to call an election anytime soon, so we’ll have time to look at all the angles.”

A few minutes later, most of the men gathered up their belongings and left as quietly as they had arrived. One stopped with his hand on the door and spoke. “Well, Louis, how can you say that idiotic idea sounds good? There’s no possible way to pull it off and I don’t care what Paul says.”

“Gabe, Gabe. Relax my friend. As put forth, Paul’s idea is a workable as repealing the law of gravity. But somewhere in there is the germ of something we can use. Just be patient my friend. Things will work out.”

Gabe shrugged, then opened the door and left. Louis Riel Dumont looked at his second in command, Paul Milton. “You see, Paul? They doubt such a plan is workable and on the surface, it does appear unworkable.” LR held up his hand to forestall any argument from his friend. “I know, I know, we’ve had this discussion before and yes, it would have been much easier when Vanessa Anderson was Prime Minister and your grandmother was her special representative because there was all that dissent among both Parliament and the people. But, those dissenters didn’t have all the advantages we do. They didn’t have someone on the inside feeding us information.

“What was it Winston Churchill is credited with saying? ‘Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it?’ Well, I’ve been studying history, specifically the history of uprisings in the past and I’ve some ideas. But, before I say anything else, I want to refine them and do some more research.”

Paul left quietly, leaving Louis to mull over the proposal. As Gabe had said, on the surface it appeared insane and downright dangerous, but there was something in it that could be used. He could feel it in his bones. He shook his head when the incongruity of Paul came to mind.

His grandmother had been Anna Milton, the second most powerful person, let alone woman, in Yorkland in the first years following its formation. She had been deeply involved not only in the negotiations that brought about the birth of the nation, but in the squelching of the first citizen’s revolt. And now, here was Paul, her grandson, acting as second-in-command of another serious attempt to overthrow the government of Yorkland and return the country to its rightful place in Canada.

Louis’s thoughts turned to Anna Milton and her staunch refusal to use any other name on her son’s birth certificate as a surname other than her own, although there was nothing wrong with Paul’s grandfather’s surname of Monaghan. And now, here was her grandson, bearing the same last name, plotting to overthrow the government she had helped create. The irony was not lost on Louis and, he thought, probably not on Paul either.

The timing of the whole rebellion hinged greatly on the government’s actions, specifically the next election. Granted the opposition parties were making noises about forcing a non-confidence vote, but as Louis had learned, much of what came out of Queen’s Park was either hot air or grandstanding for the representatives’ ridings and therefore not to be taken too seriously. Still, he and the group had to be prepared to move on short notice.

He sighed as he thought over the first uprising and the reasons for its failure. One thing that had helped scuttle it was that they were ill-prepared for the response from the government. Another had been that there was no co-ordination among the groups. Their ideas had been sound, but the execution had left much to be desired. Attempting to overthrow a government, especially when that government is in session had proved to be the fatal error. With all the decision makers in one place, it was relatively easy for Vanessa Anderson to co-ordinate defences.

His plan also called for the overthrow of the government, after all, that was the whole idea behind a citizens’ uprising. If he could convince the others, specifically Paul Milton, to wait until an election had been called and Parliament dissolved, it would be easier. Communication and co-ordination among the various departments, especially the Department of Defence, would be more difficult if the politicians were busy on the hustings. He remembered the disaster the first rebellion had become and believed he had pinpointed the reasons for that debacle.

In his view, the main reason for the failure of the first major revolt was that the organizers had acted on the spur of the moment, using the distraction of Albert Johnston to conceal their actions. That hadn’t succeeded partly because some of the dissenters had been so vocal and rabid in their opposition they had attracted government attention. He, Louis Riel DuMont, would not make that same mistake. He was organized. All factions had either been absorbed into his own, or brushed aside as inconsequential, so when they acted, it would be the same whether it was Ottawa, Windsor, London or Toronto

His mind returned to the proposal Paul had put forth. The plan was unworkable in the presented manner, but he felt in his bones that there was the nucleus of a workable rebellion in it somewhere. If he let his mind tease at it long enough, that seed would be revealed.

No matter what action they finally decided upon, Louis knew the army would be a problem. From the mainly ineffective force of Vanessa Anderson’s time, it had developed into a serious fighting force. Gregory Meaford’s replacement, a man named Walters, had been a soldier in the mould of Rick Hillier, an outspoken and popular Chief of Staff of the Canadian Armed Forces in the early years of the twenty-first century. Under General Walters the force had rapidly evolved from group of traffic cops in army uniforms into something to be feared. Several times over the years, Yorkland had supplied troops to various United Nations forces, so now had many battled tested members who wouldn’t be fazed by rioting in the streets.

In addition to picking at Paul’s idea, Louis also looked at it with an eye to how it may fit in with his own ideas on how to overthrow the government. In some ways, Paul’s plan was an improvement on his own, so perhaps he could merge the two and develop something that stood better than a fifty-fifty chance.

While Louis sat quietly dissecting the plans, events were transpiring elsewhere that would render Louis Riel DuMont and his group ineffective.

The Albert Johnston sparked revolt had resulted in an increased awareness of the level of dissent present among the general population. One result of this awareness was that there was an ever increasing number of undercover officers infiltrating the dissidents groups. As well, there were dissenters who supplemented their income by selling information to the authorities. Louis had known the men in his advisory group for years prior to the initiation of their plot and they had all agreed that nobody else would ever see the inner circle. He had organized it on a cell structure, each one composed of no more than three people, the only exception being his “planning committee” as he termed it. The head of each cell knew only his three people, plus one person directly above him and below him, while each member knew one person in a cell at their level. The arrangement made for awkward communication on occasion, but also insulated the leader and his cadre from identification.

When he left the meeting, Paul Milton had another stop to make, one that Louis wouldn’t have been pleased to learn about had he known the real reason for the visit. Paul’s next call was to his apparent girlfriend’s place, but she was in actuality an undercover police officer.

Paul’s grandmother had been Anna Milton, the special representative for Prime Minister Vanessa Anderson, and his grandfather was Gerald Monaghan, an army officer whom Anna had met while attempting to defuse the Albert Johnston incident in the early days of the existence of Yorkland. Their son was Paul’s father, who had served in the legislature with distinction.

Louis, on the other hand, came from more rebellious stock, as evidenced by his name.
Louis Riel, the leader of the failed Métis rebellion in western Canada, also has the distinction of being the only elected Member of Parliament ever hanged for treason as a result of that uprising. Louis’s father’s family traced their roots back to Riel’s assistant, Gabriel DuMont, so it could be said Louis came by his opposition to government honestly.

Given the vastly different backgrounds, it was only natural that they had become fast friends. When Louis got in trouble in university, Paul was the one to plead his case. That Paul was always there and always seemed to have his back made him the logical choice to become Louis’s second in command when he decided to overthrow the government.

Paul took the position mainly to humour his friend. He couldn’t possibly envision that Louis was serious about overthrowing the government his grandmother had helped create; the government his grandfather and father worked so hard to defend. When he learned just how serious Louis was about toppling the government, Paul’s loyalties were severely strained.

Did he stay and help his friend, a man who trusted him implicitly, overthrow what he viewed as his family’s legacy, or should he report his friend to the authorities? This was the quandary Paul found himself in during the formative years of Louis’s plot.

In a roundabout way, he made contact with the security services. Through his grandparents and father he was very aware of the National Security and Anti-Terrorism Act and the possible implications for him. He explained his situation and, when they appeared reluctant to accept his story and offer for information, he invoked the names of his grandparents. That seemed to turn the trick. It was at that meeting that he met the undercover officer who would become his new “girlfriend”.

That this young lady didn’t seem to work excited no interest among Paul’s friends, including Louis. After all, Paul came from money, so it was automatically assumed that any girl he took up with would be from the same social stratum. They did all the things young couples would – dinners, movies, theatre – and all seemed quite normal. Below the surface, things were a bit more complicated. Arriving at her apartment, Paul would prepare a brief report on whatever he’d picked up between visits. This would then be taken with them to wherever they were going. At some point during the evening, the young lady would excuse herself from the table, or her theatre seat. Sometime during her brief absence the report would be transferred to another party for carriage back to the security branch.

This evening, the report centred about the fact the idea, which had come from the security forces, had been almost unanimously rejected, with the exception of Louis himself. He had felt there may be something in it they could use. This part of the report caused a great stir in the offices, for they had looked at the plan from several different angles and had determined there was nothing there that could even be remotely useful to the rebels.

Paul did not spy on the insurgents for money, as did others. His reason was more personal. He liked that Yorkland was a separate nation, with a British-style government. He also resented someone – anyone – attempting to destroy what his grandparents, especially his grandmother, had created.

After his date, Paul returned to his own apartment to hear the telephone ringing. Glancing down at the number, he saw it was Louis. Louis never called him on his home phone as he didn’t trust the government not have it tapped, so it must have been important. Picking up the phone, he heard Louis practically screaming “Turn on the television – our chance is coming!”

“Louis, Louis, calm down. I just walked in and I’ve still got my coat on. Now, what’s this all about? What do you mean ‘our chance is coming’?”

“Paul, the opposition is going to call a non-confidence vote tomorrow and according to what I’ve heard, and learned through other sources, the government hasn’t a chance in hell of surviving it. This is it buddy, this is our time to overthrow the tyrants who rule us.!”

“Aren’t you being a little premature? All you have is a news report that this is going to happen. Louis, we don’t even have a decent plan in place, so how can we take advantage of the situation?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. We don’t have to strike the instant the vote happens. We still have to wait for the Governor-General to dissolve Parliament. And, don’t forget we’ve got that plan of yours.”

“I thought you said that plan wasn’t workable.”

“The basic plan, no. But I can change a couple of things to make it useable.! Paul, come over and we can discuss it.”

“Okay, let me change. I just got back from Julie’s.”

“Okay, but hurry!”

Before even taking his coat off, Paul called the young lady just mentioned. “Hi, it’s me. Louis just called. Apparently there will be a non-confidence vote tomorrow that will bring down the government. He’s going to make some changes to the plan ‘the boys’ came up with. I’m going over there now to discuss it with him. May I stop by later? It could be quite late.”

Receiving assurance he could, he hung up the handset and changed into something more “rebellious” as he thought of it.

Despite the “iron-clad” guarantee Louis’s sources had given him, the government did survive the non-confidence motion and things continued on their usual inefficient governmental ways. Secretly Paul breathed a sigh of relief, while in the presence of Louis and the other plotters, he reviled the weakness of the opposition parties for not defeating the government.

Louis spent several hours on the telephone with his contacts, each call only deepening his mood. After the last call, he uttered a short, powerful expletive. “Those assholes! At the last minute, the Prime Minister promised one of the smaller parties a few bones to get their votes. It was just enough to survive the motion.” He lapsed into more colourful cursing in English and a smattering of other languages he’d picked up including the Cree and French from his ancestry.

Nobody did anything except find something upon which to direct all their attention. Finally, Louis calmed down. “Okay, it didn’t work this time. There will be another one and in the meantime, we can fine-tune our plan of action.”

Paul, who had been up all night, excused himself, claiming he was too mentally exhausted to be any good to the session. On his way home, he called his contact. “The plans are changing slightly. When I left they were looking at the possibility of not waiting for an election to do anything. That might bear watching from your end as well.”

The spanner in the works was thrown, as with the Albert Johnston uprising, from the Loyalist eastern counties. A small group, actually more like a gang of thugs than an organized resistance cell, invaded the home of a minor official in Brockville and during the course of their rampage, this official and his family were killed. Had it not been that one of the more intoxicated members of this gang chose to write slogans on the walls urging the re-unification of Yorkland and Canada, the incident may have been treated as simply a home invasion gone wrong.

But those words on the wall raised the stakes. Queen’s Park had been nervous about the Loyalist Counties since Vanessa Anderson dealt with Albert Johnston and certain parties used this unfortunate incident as proof of their concern. Pressing their point in the House, they implored the government to “do something” about these “accursed rebels.” The Minister in charge assured the Honourable Member that the authorities were doing all possible to catch the persons responsible for this crime and that the case was being treated as terrorism. This was because of the words on the wall.

Perhaps emboldened by the authorities’ apparent lack of progress in the Brockville incident, reports began to surface from other areas of civil disobedience. A mass protest in Collingwood lead to several arrests and injuries on both sides of the dispute. Chatham, where many of those fleeing on the Underground Railway settled, was also the scene of disturbances. These disruptions all had one common theme: Rejoin Canada.

These incidents served only to put Louis in a foul mood. While he agreed with the intention, they could only goad the government into taking action. And his plans called for things to remain as they were. The continuing rise in such incidents of course raised questions in Queen’s Park, questions the government found itself increasingly unable to answer to anyone’s satisfaction.

Louis spent many frantic hours on the telephone and the internet attempting to calm these other groups, or at least those of which he was aware, and not do anything foolish. Most listened to his reason and powers of persuasion. One group in Orillia did not heed him.
The former Ontario Provincial Police Headquarters in Orillia was now used as a base for the military. This group, for reasons known only to them, decided it would be a good idea to bomb this building. But, having been forewarned by an informer, the building was deserted and the attackers were all killed in the counterattack.

This proved to be the last straw for the government. Canada’s War Measure Act had been repealed in 1985, but the Anti-Terrorism Laws brought in following the World Trade Centre carnage had been adapted intact, except for minor changes in wording and title, by Yorkland upon its formation. In a speech that borrowed heavily from that of Pierre Elliott Trudeau’s broadcast of October 16, 1970, the Prime Minister took to the airwaves and internet simultaneously.

“I am speaking to you at a moment of grave crisis, when violent and fanatical men are attempting to destroy the unity and freedom of Yorkland. These matters are of the utmost gravity and I want to tell you what the Government is doing about them.”

Following this opening was a list of the most egregious of the attacks on government buildings and offices. Then

“In order to combat these threats to our internal security and peace, the Government is announcing, effective immediately, the imposition of certain portions of the National Security and Anti-Terrorism Act. This will give us greater powers to combat these home-grown terrorists and makes them all illegal organizations.

“Imposition of this Act was not undertaken lightly as it affects not only those engaged in wrongdoing, but all citizens of Yorkland. It does this by suspending the Bill of Rights, including the right to congregate. Until the Act is lifted, any gathering of more than three people may be considered suspicious and those involved subject to arrest. I assure you the powers given the government under this Act will not be abused and that, as soon as is feasible, the restrictions imposed upon us will be lifted.

I have a list of known rebel groups which I will now read to you. To members of those groups, I say: your days are numbered.” As more information is learned, I will release the names of further groups of interest.

“Thank you and may God help us.”

Louis watched the speech in disbelief. Why hadn’t his contacts told him this was coming? How could they let him find out something this important, this crucial to his plans, from the media rather than from them? While he muttered to himself, his telephone rang. A whispered voice spoke “L R, it’s me – we didn’t know. The son-of-a bitch set this up with his special advisors, not the Cabinet, not the complete caucus. It took us by as much surprise as I imagine it took you. I suggest you watch yourself carefully. They may have your name on a list somewhere.” Louis heard the connection end.

Within hours of the Prime Minister’s speech, the armed forces and police were rounding up known and suspected dissidents. Under the terms of the Act, it was not necessary to lay charges, nor arraign anyone before a magistrate. Just lock ‘em up and forget ‘em. Some of the more minor characters were simply ignored on the basis that without the leaders, they’d be like little lost sheep anyway, more harm to themselves than to the country.

Louis Riel DuMont and his cadre watched the events unfolding with dread. Paul seemed especially on edge.

“Relax Paul. The PM didn’t mention our group in the list he read out. Those are all small disorganized gangs who can’t even spell ‘rebellion’.”

Days passed and the authorities were kept busy rounding up known and suspected dissidents from the original list. Louis didn’t say anything to his group, but he was worried that one of the detainees may point the finger in his direction. He quietly made preparations to destroy what few records existed and to prepare his hiding place if it should prove necessary.

The television was always tuned to the news channel now, waiting for further government announcements. A month after the imposition of the Act, the anticipated words came from the office of the Minister of National Security. “Good afternoon. We have a further list of groups that have been declared terrorists.”

Louis listened intently. The names mentioned concerned him for they were drawing closer to his level. These words were bad enough, then came the blockbuster when the Minister named the opposition parties. “These groups are hereby declared terrorist organizations and any person associated with them is subject to immediate arrest.”

“Merde!” Louis rarely swore in French. In the silence in the room the outburst sounded even louder than it actually was. Paul and the others turned, shock keeping them mute. Before Louis could utter a word, the television drew their attention. They directed their attention toward the screen and heard an announcer “Ladies and gentlemen, the Prime Minister has advised he will speak to the nation in a few minutes. It is believed the reason for the speech is the contents of the list just released by the Minister of National Security.”

The picture changed to a shot of the press room and Queen’s Park, where most press conferences and announcements were made. Viewers were treated to various people scurrying around, changing the background from that used by National Security to that of the Prime Minister; and reporters from various media outlets exchanging rumours. Five minutes later, the televised view changed to a closeup of the flag of Yorkland, then the announcer spoke “Ladies and gentlemen of the press and citizens of Yorkland, the Prime Minister.”

The Right Honourable Prime Minister strode to the podium, a scowl on his face. “I’ve a short announcement, and will not entertain questions afterward. Once you’ve heard what I have to say, I doubt you’ll have questions anyway.

“A few minutes ago, the Minister of National Security named Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition and the other parties in the House as terrorist organizations. This was not an error on the part of the Government. Investigation has revealed that some members of those parties are or were associated with terrorist organizations. Our investigation also revealed the parties themselves had accepted funding from organizations used as fronts by these terrorist organizations, and therefore we consider their motives in the House to be suspect.

“Consequently, to preserve the integrity of Government, it was necessary to remove these parties from the policy- and law-making process.”

Louis muted the sound. “We don’t need to hear anymore. We’ve just heard the death knell for freedom in Yorkland. This son-of-a-bitch has just declared himself king of the country. Mark my words, in the next few days, you’ll hear that the majority of members in his own party will also be arrested as terrorists. The only ones left will be those that formed his inner circle – the ones that came up with this whole fucking idea.”

Paul and Gabe looked at each other. They weren’t quite sure what they found more shocking, what Louis said, or his use of the “f-word”.

Louis’s group was different from most of the other “rebels”, as the government termed them, in that most of the members were businessmen who’d seen profits drop as Canada began buying elsewhere. Yorkland had enjoyed great economic success and the Simcoe was trading above par with the US dollar, which made their goods and services too expensive for Canada. Consequently, whereas some of the other groups appeared to be stereotypical “wild-eyed bomb-throwing radicals”, this group appeared to be just what they were – a group of executives having a business meeting.

The import of, and reaction to, the Prime Minister’s announcement wasn’t long in being felt by the populace. Curfews were established. The army became more visible in the streets. Assemblies of more than three people were banned. Churches were exempted from this ban, but services were monitored to ensure they didn’t stray into forbidden territory. One minster chose to ignore the new rules and the watcher in the back of the nave and used his pulpit to rail against the new restrictions the government had imposed. The congregation was then treated to their pastor being led from the pulpit in handcuffs, still protesting the new rules.

What became known as the second Battle of Stoney Creek was less a battle than a massacre. A group over which Louis had no influence decided that the time had come for them to act. The group gathered at Battlefield Park, the scene of the British night attack on the Americans in 1813. Their plan was simple. They’d simply drive down Barton Street and take over the federal building in downtown Hamilton. They hadn’t counted on some citizens being willing to spy for the government. One such person, seeing the large assemblage of vehicles and people, some carrying weapons, in Battlefield Park, phoned the authorities.

By the time the last of the dissidents straggled in, the army was ready for them. All entrances to the park were quietly blocked and the army moved in. Nobody knows to this date who fired the first shot, but one of the dissidents took exception to being told by a captain he was under arrest and discharged his rifle in the general direction of the troops in front of him. One soldier was wounded by this shell, but the report of the gunshot released the tension in the soldiers and they returned fire. Of the fifty people gathered in the park, three survived.

Once again, the group was meeting in Louis’s boardroom, ostensibly to discuss trade with Canada and the United States. Louis turned away from the window. “Paul called and said he’d been delayed at another meeting. He’ll join us as soon as he can get away.” He paused, then,

“I can’t see but we have any choice other than to try now. The longer we wait, the greater the danger we’ll be discovered. Those idiots in Stoney Creek have forced the hand of every group still functioning. I already have some indications we may be suspected. I know we’ve all lost government contracts for no apparent reason since the Act was imposed. I suggest we advise the others to be prepared to take action within the week, otherwise, we’ll have no chance at all. There are no more elections and the army is interpreting these laws in an extremely draconian fashion and detaining ordinary citizens on the slightest pretext. So, it’s either this week, or not at all. Any comments?”

Gabe looked down at the table, silently contemplating what had just happened. In his quiet way, Louis had just issued the call to arms. He looked up. “L R, is a week going to give everyone enough time?”

“They’re going to have to find the time, Gabe. If we wait, we’ll have wasted all these years; all these hopes.”

Before Gabe could respond, the boardroom door swung open. Louis looked up to see the opening filled with uniforms.

“Louis Riel DuMont, come with us please. You are being detained under the provisions of the National Security and Anti-Terrorism Act.”

Glancing around the table, the officer continued “You gentlemen are also under arrest. Keep your hands on the table in plain sight.”

Louis sat there, head down, whispering to himself. “All these years wasted. All hopes of rejoining Canada gone – poof! Up in smoke.”

He looked up at the officer. “Very well Captain, we’ll offer no resistance.”

The captain glared at him. “No Mr DuMont, you won’t. Not this time. But you were. planning to, weren’t you?”

New Fiction “Yorkland part 1 Partition and Separation”

This came about following yet another article about the possibility of dividing Ontario into two separate provinces.  I asked myself “what if…?” and got this for an answer.  There are two more parts, which will follow over the next two Sundays.  Cat


The partition of Ontario in 2015 had been agreed to primarily because those in the north were truly fed up with the way those in the south – read “Toronto” – ignored their complaints and problems and decided they wanted self-government. In a monumental case of political bungling, the boundary had been set up by some clerk laying a straightedge across a map of the province in the area south of Highway 17 and drawing a line.

A note to the effect that this was only a suggestion for an area where the province might be divided, subject to local geographic conditions and the desires of any communities affected was attached and the package was passed up the ladder. Naturally, as the map made its tour of Parliament Hill, the note became separated and the map eventually arrived unaltered on the desk of the chair of the Royal Commission charged with dealing with the partition, accompanied with ever more powerful signatures and minus the note. The politicians at Queen’s Park had bridled at the suggestion the province be split and, in a rare show of solidarity, had devised the proposal to take the southern part of the province out of Canada if Ottawa did in fact accede to the northern request.

The man sighed as he looked out the window. Try as he might, he could never avoid comparing this view with the one from his old office window, the one that overlooked the Ottawa River. He turned away and looked out the opposite window. Another sigh escaped him as he looked out at the bland building that now was the seat of government. The coat of arms on the front of the building and the big Maple Leaf flag flying from the staff did not, in his opinion, make it an impressive structure.

He thought about the negotiations that had taken Southern Ontario out of Confederation and how the major sticking point had been the desire of the federal government to remain in Ottawa. Queen’s Park had been adamantly opposed to ceding any territory to Canada. So, the federal government had sifted through offers from the other twelve provinces and finally accepted the several hundred square miles Northern Ontario (although he supposed it was just “Ontario” now) had offered northwest of Sault Ste. Marie.

Much to the distress of the rest of the country, Southern Ontario’s boast that it was the economic engine that drove Canada had proved to be true. The dollar had fallen from its end of the century level to fifty cents US at the end of trading that very day. Meanwhile, the new currency of Southern Ontario, (although he should start thinking of it by the name chosen by the citizens in a plebiscite, “Yorkland”) the Simcoe, was at par with its American counterpart. Part of that naturally was because Canada had lost access to Lakes Ontario and Erie, as well as most of Lake Huron, with their port facilities. The automotive industry was based in the south as well, and all that revenue was now lost to Yorkland. The man sighed as he realized that about all Ontario now had was the mines at Sudbury, the steel mills in Sault Ste. Marie, and timber. There was also Thunder Bay, which had the Bombardier plant which manufactured rail cars and the port, but even the port wasn’t doing well as grain growers on the Prairies weren’t shipping much through the Great Lakes any longer. And, as if things weren’t bad enough, Newfoundland and Labrador, flush with the petrodollars from the Hibernia oilfield, was making noises about following Yorkland out the door.

He found it funny in an odd way. The question of Quebec had finally been settled, in large part due to Queen’s Park’s intervention. A pro-federal Premier in Quebec and a fiery Premier in Ontario had been able to hammer out a deal that addressed most of the issues on both sides of the table. The two had held some private talks at the summer house of the Quebec Premier in the Laurentians. Nobody ever repeated anything from these meetings except what was in the final written agreement and, surprising even the most optimistic parliamentary observer, the agreement was accepted not only by the governments involved, but a majority of the population as well. Within a year of the Laurentian agreement, Southern Ontario was making the same sort of fuss Quebec had been up to in the late twentieth century.

But, unlike Quebec, Southern Ontario had not bothered with increasing demands. They simply presented Ottawa with a list of requirements; an accurate accounting of their share of the federal debt (with a series of postdated cheques attached), and a request the feds move the Government of Canada elsewhere. In typical Canadian fashion, there was some compromise made, with only the demand Ottawa vacate the premises being nonnegotiable and in the end, the Cornwall Articles of Secession were approved by House, Senate and the Governor General. (The GG, he thought. Thank heavens she had been from the Maritimes and not Ontario. That could have made things really sticky.)

Canada’s plan had been simple. They offered to buy most of downtown Ottawa, then planned to annex it to Quebec. But Queen’s Park baulked at having a Quebec enclave on the west bank of the Ottawa River. Under implied threats of civil (and provincial government) disobedience, Parliament relented and was given five years to pack up and move. Queen’s Park had also negotiated successfully with Quebec’s National Assembly and, by waving a cheque containing many zeros at them, convinced Quebec to surrender all lands west of the Ottawa River to Ontario.

The final nail driven into the coffin of the “old” Canada had been Washington’s quick acceptance of Yorkland as a separate nation. That was followed swiftly by Great Britain and Japan acknowledging that Yorkland was a sovereign nation and not just some secessionist enclave. The man sighed again as he continued that line of thought. Yorkland’s flag also now flew proudly in its proper place outside the UN building in New York.

Another effect of the birth of Yorkland was that the St. Lawrence Seaway Commission was now trilateral. Since the Welland Canal and some of the other locks on the Seaway were in Yorkland, it had been a logical conclusion that they also be represented on that body. So far, they hadn’t been unusually disruptive or awkward during the meetings, at least according to reports he had received.

He stood before the map of the “new” Canada and read aloud the names of the provinces and their capitals, the three territories having been given provincial status at the time of the separation:

Newfoundland and Labrador – St. John’s
Prince Edward Island – Charlottetown
Nova Scotia – Halifax
New Brunswick – Fredericton
Quebec – Quebec (although it always seemed as if Montreal was)
Ontario – Thunder Bay
Manitoba – Winnipeg
Saskatchewan – Regina (good old “Pile of Bones” he murmured to himself)
Alberta – Edmonton
British Columbia – Victoria
Yukon – Whitehorse
Western Territory – Yellowknife (they changed the “Northwest”, why won’t they drop the “Territory”)
Nunavut – Iqaluit
and overseeing the whole lot, the Federal District of Ottawa.

The changes in government caused by Yorkland’s leaving had been tremendous. Not only had Commons been reduced by close to 100 seats, the Senate and the Supreme Court had also been affected. “Turmoil” best described the situation. The Prime Minister and the leaders of two of the opposition parties had been from Southern Ontario and the secession meant they were without ridings, so they either had to move and run elsewhere, or be replaced. The same problem had cropped up in the Supreme Court and Senate. Other than the elected representatives, the civil service was most affected.

Many members of the civil service, especially those based in Ottawa, were from Ontario. The federal government quite correctly stated they could not allow foreign nationals to work in the Houses of Parliament or directly within various Ministries of the Government of Canada. Union officials found themselves powerless, since most of the members lived in what was now Yorkland and their own headquarters were mostly based in Toronto. The Canadian Minister of Labour refused to deal with what she termed “foreign-based unions attempting to infiltrate the national government of this great country.” The move to Northern Ontario broke the unions’ stranglehold for good. Most of the workers had refused to transfer to the northland and the sudden loss of so many members dues through the loss of positions effectively bankrupted the unions.

Now the problem was finding enough people to staff the various departments in New Ottawa. Not many people had been willing to relocate from the Ottawa/Hull area to this new location in the middle of nowhere. Discussions with some of these people led him to the conclusion that it wasn’t the weather, for the winters weren’t that much worse than Ottawa’s, but the isolation. And a few had expressed concerns over the very real possibility of forest fires. And many of those who had transferred were now asking for transfers to other offices in the more “civilized” parts of the country.

The forests on Northern Ontario had long been the scene of vast fires, the toll of which could be measured in thousands of square miles (he had never become accustomed to thinking in metric.) These appeared to have a greater bearing on some decisions than did the isolation. Granted, some people had chosen to leave Southern Ontario and keep their jobs, but these were too few to make much difference. What made it worse was that most of the senior civil servants, those that really understood their jobs, were the ones who didn’t move.

Studies, or to be more accurate, informal surveys, had shown that many of these people chose to live in more established centres like “the Soo” or some of the smaller centres along the shore of Lake Superior and drive the 100-mile round trip each day. The latest numbers had shown that the population of New Ottawa was actually decreasing. If many more left, the government would collapse under its own inertia.

Many suggestions had been put forth, most of them too expensive to consider. These included free housing for government workers, and operating a free shuttle service from Sault Ste. Marie airport to Charest International in New Ottawa. This one was considered only slightly less foolish than the very well documented suggestion to retake Ottawa by force.

That suggestion had been accompanied by reams of paper outlining the necessary troop strength; plan of attack, and estimated losses. One major oversight in this plan, not submitted by a military man he recalled, was that the origin point was Quebec, who most certainly would not allow that many federal troops in the province, so any force would need to fight their way from northern Ontario to Ottawa before they could lay siege to the city. Department of Defence analysts who examined this proposal submitted a three-hundred page report that, stripped of its qualifiers, boiled down to three words “No bloody way!”

The chime of his intercom interrupted his thoughts. “Anna Milton is here, sir.”

He straightened his tie and strode to the door. “Anna, so good to see you. How was your trip?”

“Hello, Teddy. The trip was good. I never realized how big this province used to be until I started coming up here.” Anna Milton was the special representative for the Prime Minister of Yorkland, Vanessa Anderson, and was known as the person sent in to defuse trouble. She was also a long-time friend of both Prime Ministers. At one time she had been a federal employee but the day the Cornwall Articles had become official, she left Parliament Hill and took a position at Queen’s Park. She had been given responsibility for negotiating the Canadian railways compensation on behalf of Yorkland and had been fair to both sides according to all reports.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods, Annie? Your call sounded both urgent and mysterious. And requesting that nobody from the government meet you at Charest really got me wondering, I’ll admit.”

“I’m here strictly unofficially Teddy, but with the PM’s knowledge and blessing.”

“Uh oh, sounds ominous. Better tell me about it.”

“Our sources tell us there is a lot of discontent among the people right now and some very eloquent speakers are only stirring things up more. The theme these people are hammering at is that Yorkland would be better off being part of a larger nation and urging that the government give up, to use their term “this foolish dream of being a country” and open talks with both Canada and the States about either becoming part of the States or rejoining Confederation. There have been several demonstrations in favour of what they’re calling “re-Confederation” that turned quite violent when opponents showed up.

“Teddy, for twenty years now, Yorkland has not only survived, but prospered. If you don’t mind me saying so, Yorkland has done better economically over that period than has Canada.” She paused and walked over to the window, then continued “As I said, I’m here unofficially. Actually it would be more accurate to say I wanted to hear what an old friend would have to say if we requested help. You know we don’t have any armed forces to speak of other than the renamed OPP, and they’re still basically traffic cops, so if this situation were to deteriorate into an armed conflict, do you, Teddy Johns, friend, not Edward Johns, Prime Minister of Canada, think Parliament would consent to sending troops to help quell any such uprising?”

“Anna, Annie, if it were my decision alone, I’d send all the military personnel and equipment I could lay my hands on – RCAF, army, hell, I’d even get frigates into the Great Lakes for you. But, as Prime Minister, I have my doubts such a request would be considered. There are too many people in Parliament who remember The Cornwall Articles. Some of them weren’t very happy at being uprooted and forced to seek re-election elsewhere. Some of them are still here, in both Houses and I’m afraid they may adopt a “screw the bastards, they wanted independence, they got it” attitude and block any request for assistance.

“What I will say though, is that if things really fall apart, I’m prepared, both as a friend and as PM, to offer asylum to you, the Prime Minister and any other member of your government who chooses to come. If necessary, we’ll designate a part of New Ottawa as Yorkland territory, in addition to the embassy, that is. But from what I’ve seen on the news, I don’t think things will deteriorate that far. Hell, Annie, despite the fact Yorkland is now independent, we’re still all Canadians in our attitudes. Some compromise will be reached.”

Anna considered his comment, then laughed briefly. “I suppose I should feel insulted at that last comment Teddy, but it’s true. In our attitudes and temperament, we’re just the same as when Yorkland was Southern Ontario. Thanks, dear friend, I’ll relay your offer to Herself.”

“How is Vanessa? Well, I hope. The millstone of government hasn’t ground her down yet?”

“She’s well. I think it’s more a case of her grinding the millstone down with some of the things she’s been able to accomplish.

“You know, I think that’s part of the problem we’re having. Even though we’re half way through the twenty-first century, some people still have problems with a strong female and they resent what Vanessa’s doing.”

“Well, she’s been around long enough to know that she’ll never please everyone. I think you’re probably right in what you say. There are people in Canada who have the same problem, only they aren’t as vocal as some of our citizens appear to be.

“Let me bounce the idea around a bit with some trusted advisors – don’t worry, they won’t say anything – and we’ll see if we can come up with any ideas. Do I contact Vanessa directly, or work through you?”

“For now, I think it would be better if Teddy Johns called his dear friend Anna Milton once in a while, just to ask how she’s doing and talk about old times. I can relay anything important to the PM.”

The return flight to Toronto was uneventful and Anna spent the time studying papers from her briefcase. Shortly before they were due to land, the pilot approached her. “Ms Milton, the tower tells us there is some sort of demonstration taking place at Pearson. They are asking if we can divert to Munro instead.”

“Pearson”, or to use its full name “Lester B. Pearson International Airport” was the main airport for Toronto, in fact it was the largest in Yorkland. It had been named after a previous Prime Minister of Canada, a local boy from Newtonville, just north of Toronto and a winner of the Nobel Prize for Peace. “Munro” referred to John C. Munro International Airport, located in Mount Hope, just south of Hamilton and named, once again, after a local resident who had done well in national politics before the separation. Landing there would mean an hour longer out of her office.

“Ask the tower if the demonstration is peaceful. If it is, I’d prefer to land here.”

The pilot nodded and returned to the cockpit, only to re-appear a few minutes later. “They tell me it is peaceful so far, but are concerned that may change.”

“Okay. I think I’ll take my chances with Pearson.”

The plane landed without incident and taxied to the private craft terminal where Anna Milton disembarked. Clearing customs, she entered her limousine, the front seat as was her custom unless formality required otherwise, for the ride to Queen’s Park. During the ride, she tuned the radio to a news station, just in time to hear a report regarding the events taking place behind her at the airport.

“The demonstration at Pearson International appears to be dispersing. This has been odd. According to a spokesperson for the airport, it started forming about an hour ago on the arrivals level of Terminal One, then after standing around quietly, broke up without anything happening.

“No-one from this group was willing to speak with us, so the reason for it isn’t known at the moment. Passengers from commercial flights arriving during this period weren’t bothered by the crowd, so we are unable to determine any reason for it. Information obtained from the tower indicates the only other craft to land was a government jet, which went directly to the private aircraft terminal. It is not clear who was on that flight. We’ll report more details as they become available. Now, back to the studio.”

“Thank you Robert. In other news, there are rumours circulating in Queen’s Park that Anna Milton, the Prime Minister’s special aide made a trip to New Ottawa today. Sources tell us … “

Anna switched the radio off. “Damn! That trip was supposed to be secret. I’ll …” She broke off as her cell phone rang. “Anna Milton.”

“Oh, hi Vanessa… Yes, I just heard on the news… No, I have no idea how they found out, but if I find the leak, I’ll plug it with someone’s head… Okay… I was going to go to my office… All right then… I’ll see you there… About half an hour… We’re just pulling onto 401 from the 409… Goodbye.”

Anna turned to her driver, who was a trusted member of her staff and had followed her from Ottawa to Queen’s Park. “Change of destination, William. We’re now going to the Prime Minister’s residence.”

She sat quietly for a few minutes, studying the traffic. Then, “Do you think you could do a bit of detective work for me?” After receiving assent, she continued, “I’d like you to find out who told the press about our little jaunt today.”

“Yes, Ms Milton. Do you want the leak plugged, or do you just want the identity?”

“For now, just the identity. Once I know who it is, I’ll decide what to do.”

“Of course. One final question: Can I involve some friends, or would you rather this was ‘hands on’?”

“Your usual friends? Or third party?”

“Probably my usual.”

“I really don’t want this traced to us, so use your usual men.”

Traffic began clearing and, as he moved forward, he responded “Very well. I’ll advise them of the request after I drop you at the Prime Minister’s residence.”

“Thank you, William. Don’t wait for me at Vanessa’s. I’ll call a cab to get home.”

“Very well.”

Anna stared out the window, thinking as William smoothly guided the government car through the rush hour traffic. The only people who knew of her visit to Teddy were on her staff, and the crew of the aircraft. She trusted her staff. William had done his own background checks on them once they had passed government scrutiny and pronounced them all clean. So, unless one of them had turned traitor, the only options appeared to be someone at the either Pearson or Charest airports or the aircrew. That it had just been a fortuitous sighting by some other party didn’t even warrant consideration. There was no such thing as coincidence in the politics of the new nation of Yorkland.

William stopped smoothly before the mansion the Prime Minister of Yorkland used as her official residence. Located on a quiet cul-de-sac in the fashionable Rosedale area of Toronto, it blended in with the neighbours. Even the additional security required by the head of state didn’t seem out of place in this area.

Anna spoke. “Don’t bother opening the door for me William. Vanessa doesn’t stand on ceremony outside Queen’s Park and you know I certainly don’t. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Very good Ms Milton. I’ll have at least a preliminary report for you by then.”

“Thank you, William.” She stood there until the official limousine drove away, then climbed the steps to the front door. The Prime Minister herself opened it.

“Anna, you’re at it again. Trying to be just an ordinary person when you’re probably the second most powerful person in Yorkland. Are you ever going to stop?”

“Hi Vanessa. I’ll stop when you do. I remember what it was like to be the one opening doors for someone else. It can be a thankless job, so I try to be as courteous and accommodating as I can.”

“Well, it must be working judging from the number of people who want to work for you. Come in and tell me how your visit with Teddy went.”

For the next hour, Anna Milton gave her report to her friend and employer. She finished with “so, if anything happens, Teddy Johns will call his dear friend Anna Milton to talk over old times.”

The two most powerful women in Yorkland sat quietly, sipping their coffee for a few minutes. Then the Prime Minister spoke “Well, I suppose I should have expected that. The separation did really screw a few of them and now it appears some of them will get a chance for revenge. But, thanks Anna, for trying. Let’s hope we needn’t call upon Teddy officially.”

Anna thought for a few moments. “I just had a thought. Suppose we were to approach the Canadian government officially? Suppose we were to ask for assistance in training the OPP – sorry, the army? Or maybe invite them for some joint exercises with our troops? Do you think Teddy might send a battalion down for such “exercises”? That would give us some additional, not to mention well-trained, troops for at least a short term. And perhaps that might buy us enough time to defuse the situation.”

Vanessa stood up and began to pace. She had always found this helped her when she needed to marshal her thoughts and this occasion was no different. “Can you stay a while longer? I want to call the Army Chief of Staff and ask him to stop by..”

“Vanessa, I’m in no rush. I’ve only some plants waiting for me at home and I watered them this morning.”

“Great.” Vanessa Anderson reached for the telephone.

“This is Prime Minister Anderson. Please locate General Meaford and ask him to come to my residence as soon as possible. Thank you.” She turned to her friend.

“There. Was that courteous enough?” she asked with a smile on her face.

“Not bad. Not bad at all for the Prime Minister” Anna replied, also smiling.

“Right, while we’re waiting, can I interest you in some food?”

“Gladly. It’s been a long time since lunch with Teddy.”

Unlike some heads of state, Vanessa Anderson preferred to cook for herself. She had always been an excellent cook and saw no reason why leading a country should interfere with that enjoyment. She found there were occasions when something as simple as stirring a sauce was just what she needed to relax. “Come join me in the kitchen. We’ll talk some more.”

Anna, who knew Vanessa’s cooking from experience, not just reputation, gladly accepted the invitation. And, if she were honest with herself, she would admit that she felt much more comfortable in a kitchen. The sitting room at the mansion was far too much “Prime Minister” to be comfortable, while the kitchen was pure “Nessa Anderson.”

When the food was prepared, Vanessa looked across the table at her friend. “Okay Annie, spill. What’s really happening?”

“Well, as I said, Teddy will do what he can to help us if we need it. He can make no guarantees because, as you stated, there are still Members of Parliament and the Senate who are angry with Yorkland because they had to relocate in order to get re-elected. I think he’d go for the ‘joint exercise’ idea though.

“There was some sort of demonstration at Pearson that broke up just after I landed. Can’t say if I was the reason for it, or if the demonstrators had some other bug in their ear, but the timing of the end of it is suspicious. I’ve asked William to find out if someone in my office is leaking my itinerary to outside parties.”

“Oh, my. You do think you were the target of the demonstration then?”

“Yes, Nessa, I’m afraid I do. And if that is true and someone in my office has leaked the information of my trip to Canada to someone else, I’ll see that person pilloried. They won’t be able to get a job as night clerk at a gas station when I’m done with them.

Their talk was interrupted by the door chime. Excusing herself, Vanessa answered it.

“General Meaford, thank you for coming. Anna Milton and I are in the kitchen enjoying a late dinner. Would you care to join us?”

“No thank you Madame Prime Minister, I’ve just eaten.”

“Of course. You’ll join us for coffee though?”

“With the reputation your coffee has? I’d be a fool to decline.”

As he finished, they arrived back at the kitchen. General Meaford nodded at Anna.

“Ms Milton, glad to see you again.”

“And I, you, General. How are your wife and family? Well, I hope?”

“Yes, very well.”

General Meaford had previously been the Chief Superintendent of the Ontario Provincial Police and his bearing still screamed “cop”. He looked ill at ease in the new army uniform.

Anna poured coffee for the three of them. Although it was known that Vanessa Anderson didn’t stand on ceremony in her kitchen, the presence of the Chief of Staff made Anna’s action seem natural.

“Thank you Anna. You didn’t have to do that. You know that when it comes to the kitchen, I’m not the Prime Minister of Yorkland, I’m just Nessa Anderson.”

Turning to the general, she carried on. “Gregory, as you are aware, there are certain factions who would like to see Yorkland fail and rejoin Canada. You are also aware that some of these factions are resorting to civil disobedience and violence to see that happen.” She paused.

Nodding, Gregory Meaford spoke. “Yes, Madame Prime Minister, I am aware of those facts. As you know, the army is still basically the OPP in new uniforms and some of the ranks are having difficulty in adapting to the more militaristic role required of us.”

Nessa glared at him. “‘Madame Prime Minister?’ In my own kitchen at that. Gregory, you know I don’t stand on ceremony, especially when I’m in my own home.”

“I apologize Mada … Nessa. Force of habit.”

“That’s better. Okay, now. Anna has just returned from a trip to New Ottawa to talk to Teddy Johns. I mean no insult to the army, but as all three of us are aware, they are still basically a police force. Part of the reason for Anna’s trip was to see if Canada might be able to help us if this civil disobedience gets out of hand to the point where our own forces can’t handle it. No, don’t get upset,” she held up her hands as she saw the top soldier bristle, “as I said, and you yourself admitted a few minutes ago, the army of Yorkland is still adapting to their new role. A lot of the officers would still be more comfortable handing out speeding tickets.”

“You’re right, they would. And it’s been difficult getting them trained as army personnel in some ways. Many of the functions of an army are similar to those of a police force, but, well … Nessa, some of those police officers have never had to draw their sidearms on duty. They are having problems with the thoughts they might have to use arms against citizens. I can’t blame them. In all the years I spent as an OPP officer, I think I only drew my weapon perhaps five times while on duty and I never had to fire at another human being. The only time I discharged that pistol was on the range.”

“Okay, I fully understand. Would it help with the training of the men and women if we could arrange a joint exercise, held here in Yorkland, with the Canadian army? Or perhaps Teddy could send a regiment here as trainers for our troops.”

General Meaford took a sip of his coffee. While fine china was used in the dining room for the formal dinners, Vanessa Anderson preferred a proper mug in the informal setting of her kitchen and the mug, which looked enormous when held by her and Anna, looked normal in his hand. “Yes, that might help. It would give our troops some much needed training and a joint exercise would give us an idea of how far we still need to go. Oh, I know that some of our men were Canadian army regulars before the partition, but they constitute a small percentage of the forces. I’ve a policy, with which you concurred, of making those ex-Canadian regulars officers and non-coms where possible, just to take advantage of their experience. Many of them had been in Afghanistan and have experience in a hot zone. That is invaluable to us, but unfortunately not all of them are good instructors; they can’t pass on what they’ve learned.”

Vanessa looked at Anna and gave a slight nod. “Greg, Nessa and I have been discussing my meeting with Teddy and,” she paused and looked at the Prime Minister, who nodded again. “Teddy Johns doesn’t think Parliament would authorize the deployment of Canadian troops on the soil of Yorkland to help put down a civil uprising should one occur. But, if we were to ask officially, nation to nation, if Canadian troops would stage a joint exercise with our troops, that wouldn’t need to go through Parliament. The Army Staff could decide that on their own.

“Now, my sources tell me that the situation with the protests and disobedience is reaching the boiling point and could erupt any day. We thought that if we had Canadian troops here to augment our own forces, we could put down such an uprising and save this country.”

Vanessa spoke up again “Think about it Gregory and let me know tomorrow. If you think this plan is workable and the Canadian troops can help train our own army, fine. If not, as long as you have good reasons, you know I’ll listen. That’s all I ask.”

“Of course, Madame Prime Minister, I’ll give it honest thought tonight. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ll get my staff started considering all the ramifications.”

“Considering you were responding to an official, if informally phrased, request I’ll forgive the ‘Madame Prime Minister’ this time. Finish your coffee before you go rushing off to save Yorkland.”

“I apologize again for my formality Vanessa.”

After the Chief of Staff left, Vanessa and Anna spoke of general matters. There would need to be a by-election soon in one riding, as the sitting member had resigned to avoid conflict of interest charges. Their talk revolved around the timing for calling this event as the riding was known to be home to some very vocal opponents of the government.
General Meaford had wasted no time in speaking with his Canadian counterpart and that worthy individual had seen the sense in such proposed exercises. The current political situation in Yorkland wasn’t discussed, but that Canadian troops may become involved in countering any uprising was tacitly understood. Before Anna had finished her visit, he called the Prime Minister.

As usual, Vanessa Anderson answered the telephone herself.

“Madame Prime Minister, General Meaford speaking.”

“Yes, Gregory, what can I do for you?”

“Sorry, Nessa, again, force of habit. I’ve spoken, informally of course, with John Dell, the Canadian Chief of Staff, and he’s agreeable to joint exercises. In the morning, I’ll send confirmation from my office.”

“Greg, is he aware of the problems that might arise? Does he know that his men – and women – may be forced to defend themselves against civilians?”

“We didn’t explicitly discuss that, but he is aware of the situation here and hinted that his troops would be ready for ‘anything’, to use his word.”

“Great, thank you Gregory. Have a good evening.”

Vanessa sketched the conversation for Anna. “So, Annie, if things continue on their present course, we may, may mind you, have the assistance of Canadian troops in this. I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but…”

“I know Vanessa. Neither of us want to involve Canada in our internal problems, but unfortunately, the timing isn’t in our hands.”

Shortly afterward, Anna Milton took her leave of her friend and Prime Minister.

While she slept, events were occurring that was to force the government’s hand.

The trouble began early the next morning. When it started, it came not from the cities, where there had been demonstrations and therefore would seem the likely sources, but from the old “United Empire Loyalist” area of eastern Yorkland. This area had a history dating back to the late 18th century, the original settlers having fled the American Revolution to settle in British North America and remain loyal to the Empire.

Analysis in the aftermath seemed to show the trigger had been a routine traffic stop. Someone with more exuberance and horsepower than brains had been clocked at twice the posted limit on 401 in the Belleville area. Much as parts Canada used the national police, the RCMP, as provincial forces, in the rural areas of Yorkland, the new army still performed the functions of their former title, using the designation “military police”..

When the speeder saw himself being stopped by a military police vehicle, he had contacted someone on his cell phone. Within minutes of the cruiser rolling to a stop, the sergeant found himself surrounded by a hostile group. Being greatly outnumbered, he retreated to what he felt was the relative safety of his vehicle. That proved to be a fatal error. While he radioed for assistance, he suddenly found himself showered with glass as someone smashed in his windows. Angry hands dragged him from the cruiser and he found himself punched and beaten to the ground, where feet took the place of fists and other weapons. Unconsciousness and death quicky followed. The mob threw his body back inside the cruiser, then set the vehicle on fire.

Response teams found only the burnt out shell of the vehicle when they arrived. Using the information the sergeant had radioed in when he made the initial stop, two men called at the home of the speeder, only to be met with gunfire. They fell back and called for reinforcements. Waiting for the arrival of the extra men, they tried to talk with the occupants.

The homeowner, one Albert Johnston, rebuffed each attempt with more shots and obscene tirades. From his rambling, the two officers were able to determine that Mr Johnston objected strongly that Ontario, as he insisted upon calling Yorkland, was no longer a part of Canada; and further that the army, which he described in colourful scatological terms, had no right to impede the lawful pursuits of Ontarians.

The sounds of gunfire had attracted the attention of neighbours, and one kind soul saw fit to advise the local radio station. A reporter arrived within minutes.

The ensuing live broadcasts from what this reporter described as “an armed stand-off” were picked up in larger cities, and stations there sent their own crews to the scene. Within the space of an hour, Highway 401 between Toronto and Belleville was crowded with various remote studios from the television stations and army vehicles moving at high speed.

Among the first military personnel to arrive was Captain Gerald Monaghan. Capt Monaghan had been career Canadian Army and had joined Yorkland’s forces with his rank intact. He was also a veteran of Afghanistan. Sizing up the situation rapidly – a skill learned under fire in Asia – he detailed the two original responders to keep the press at a safe distance. One of his first calls to his base, using a secured cell phone, not a radio, was for more troops and a negotiating team.

While this was going on, the television crews arrived and began setting up. As is usual, when the situation is stagnant, the reporters cast their nets for someone to interview. Through these interviews, they learned of the murder on the highway; the resulting visit on Albert Johnston by two army police, and his response to their appearance. Filling in the blanks with conjecture, the reporters broadcast live to air from the scene. Each member of the electronic press of course first made certain there were views of army personnel in the background. The more enterprising stations also sent their news helicopters to Belleville. These were quickly chased away by official aircraft, some still bearing OPP markings. Surveying this media circus, Capt Monaghan again contacted his base and requested a press officer join them.

Most stations in Toronto cut into scheduled broadcasting with these reports and many of their affiliates also followed suit. Consequently, the entire nation, as well as parts of Canada, was aware of the stand-off in Belleville and the reasons for it. Among those watching were other people not happy with the existence of Yorkland. Some of these decided this was the moment they’d been waiting for and mobilized their own members.

Capt Monaghan was being advised of these other uprisings and was determined to end this siege quickly. Glancing at the hordes of media personnel, he suppressed a shudder, for he knew that unless he could end this peacefully within the next hour or so, Yorkland was going to go up in flames of discontent. He also knew, or suspected, that Albert Johnston was not going to come out quietly, but was determined to take soldiers with him. Mindful of the media circus the Branch Davidian affair at Waco had turned into, he was determined not to have the same thing happen at Belleville.

More and more troops were arriving, among them some, like himself, seasoned veterans of foreign action. Using these troops, and some authority he claimed but did not actually have, he moved the press back a mile. When questioned by the reporters, the men responded to the effect that the occupant appeared to be using a high-powered rifle, which had an effective range of over a mile, therefore the move was for their own safety. Most bought it.

Back in Toronto, Anna Milton was awakened by her telephone. Answering it, she heard Vanessa’s voice “Annie, turn on your television! Then call me back.”

“What’s going on Vanessa?”

“Just turn on the TV. It’s all going to hell right now!”

Turning on her set, she was stunned to see live broadcasts from the siege in Belleville as most of the stations were calling it, on all channels. Interspersed with this coverage were reports of riots in some of the major cities.

Calling her driver first, Anna smiled when, in response to her request, she heard “I’m already on the way, Ms Milton. I started as soon as I heard the news reports.”

“Thank you William. I’ll be ready.”

While she dressed, she called the Prime Minister back. “Nessa, it’s Anna. What the hell happened there?”

“According to the reports I’ve received, the military police stopped some meathead doing 200 on 401. We’re not quite sure what happened there, but the officer was killed and his vehicle burned. Based on information he’d radioed in, two sergeants paid a visit on a home in Belleville and were met with gunfire. That’s about all I know for certain right now.

“How soon can you get here?”

“I called William before I called you back and he’s on his way here; in fact he was on his way before I called. Say, twenty minutes tops?”

“Sounds good. I’ve got a call in to Greg Meaford and the Minister of Defence as well and he’ll be here shortly.”

Anna hung up the phone just as the doorbell sounded. Answering it, she found William standing there, surveying the area. “Good morning Ms Milton. I think you should ride in the back seat today.”

“Oh? Why?”

William gestured at the vehicle. “This isn’t the same car we had yesterday. I picked up one of the armoured ones and you’ll be safer in the rear.”

“Do we need the protection that much?”

“‘Fraid so. According to reports – not the newscasts, my sources – there are demonstrations at Queen’s Park; The Prime Minister’s residence, and just down the street from here and while the ones here and the residence are relatively well behaved, Queen’s Park is being attacked.”

“Okay, you know best. I’m going to the PM’s by the way.”

“Very good.”

There were no incidents as they left Anna’s home, Along the trip, William briefed her on what his men had learned about the demonstration the previous day. “The leak came from New Ottawa. An airport ground worker spotted you and made a phone call to Toronto. I’ve had the situation corrected.”

“Thank you, William.”

As they arrived near the Prime Minister’s residence they were met with a roadblock manned by security forces. Powering down the window, William flashed some identification at the sentry. In return, he received a salute and the barrier was hurriedly moved to make a path for the limo.

“What was all that about? Are things that bad?”

“No Ms Milton. The dissidents are on the main road. I came along a secondary route that leads to the rear of the property. The guards managed to get the barricades up before the crowd got too close.”

Arriving at the rear of the residence, Anna spotted the erect figure of Gregory Meaford. He noticed her vehicle arriving and waited for her. As William glided to a stop, the general gallantly opened the door and offered her his hand.

“Thank you General. That was most gracious of you.”

In response, the man bowed slightly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be meeting under better circumstances Ms Milton.”

“I agree. Well, let’s see what Vanessa wants.”

As they approached the door, it was opened by the lady herself. “Oh good. You’re both here. Come in, come in. I’ve got the coffee ready. The Minister’s here already. ”

Once again the trio gathered around the kitchen table, mugs of coffee at hand, joined by Neal Haddon, the Minister of Defence. “I’ve given orders, so we won’t be disturbed by anyone except my secretary.

“Now, what are we going to do about this problem?”

Anna spoke first. “All I really know is the little bit you’ve told me and what I gleaned from the newscasts on the way over here. Can you or General Meaford fill me in a little more?”

The military man spoke, “If I may Madame Prime Minister?” Receiving assent, he continued, “About five this morning, a military policeman on traffic patrol on 401 in the Belleville area clocked a vehicle at double the posted limit. He stopped that vehicle and while he was speaking with the driver, one Albert Johnston, several other men appeared. They overpowered the sergeant, beat him to death, then burned the cruiser with the body inside.

“Acting on information the sergeant had radioed in at the time of the initial stop, two other officers attended at a residence in Belleville and attempted to apprehend the resident. As they approached the house, they were met with rifle fire. At that point, they called for reinforcements. At the moment, the army has the house surrounded and are attempting to negotiate Mr Johnston’s surrender .

“From what I understand, the media coverage of this event has sparked demonstrations of other dissidents in other parts of Yorkland. We’re keeping an eye on them as well but will act if they get violent. I hope it stays quiet, for we’re being stretched pretty thin right now.”

Anna shook her head. “Damn! Too bad we don’t have Canadian troops here now. They’d certainly be a great help. General, according to what my driver said, Queen’s Park is under attack by these mobs.”

“Perhaps ‘attack’ is too strong a word to use at the moment. There have been stones and other objects thrown at the main doors, but that’s all. And I agree, having the Canadians here now might help.”

“I know, but we can’t deal with what might have been. We have to go with what we’ve got and what we know.” Vanessa paused as her secretary entered the room.

“Excuse me Prime Minister, but there’s a telephone call for General Meaford from General Dell.”

“If you’ll excuse me Madame Prime Minister. I think I should take this call.

”Mr Haddon, would you care to join me? Your advice may be necessary.”

“Certainly Gregory.”

While the two men were absent, Vanessa and Anna continued their discussion. “Anna, what do I do? I can’t allow this to continue. If these other groups unite, they’ll tear Yorkland apart. We’ve got to stop this thing in Belleville before that organization can take place. Any ideas?”

“Yeah, but none of them will win us any support.”

“Look, Annie. There’s just the two of us here. Let me hear them and get them out of the way before Gregory returns.”

“Well, my first instinct is to tell the army to get this guy any way they can. If that means bulldozing the place, so be it. But then, I think back to all the press coverage when the FBI stormed Koresh’s compound in Waco; and I don’t want that. I doubt the government would survive. Other than that, continued negotiation; and that hasn’t proven effective so far.”

The door opened and the general returned. “General Dell has offered to speed up the combined exercises and send troops beginning today. They’d land at Pearson and, acting in concert with our own troops, take command of the airport. They’d also help provide security for the Cabinet. I’ve told him that, subject to your approval of course, his men should start packing.”

Vanessa was silent for a moment. “I was really hoping we could avoid using foreign troops -and Canadian troops are foreign troops – internally, but if we’re as thin as you say Gregory, I can’t see any way around it. Okay, tell him to proceed.

“Anna, do you want to call Teddy and let him know what’s going on here? This will be an official call.”

“Yes Prime Minister” as Anna rose to use a different phone.

A short time later she returned. “Teddy will speak with General Dell about these ‘exercises’ and make certain he knows exactly what his troops may face. And he’ll be calling you officially later today.”

Turning to Gregory Meaford, she continued, “General, Prime Minister Johns advises me he’s going to recommend General Dell send a battle experienced regiment.”

The military man nodded. “Good, but I hope we don’t need to call upon that experience against our own citizens.”

“You and me both, Gregory, you and me both.

“Now, while you were on the telephone, Anna and I discussed the situation in Belleville. We both feel it needs to be defused quickly, before the fact this Johnston is holding the army at bay emboldens some of the other dissidents.

“Anna made some rather bloodthirsty suggestions which, I must admit, are beginning to sound more acceptable each minute.” She paused as the secretary opened the door and stood aside as a couple of aides wheeled a television set into the room.

“I hope you don’t mind Prime Minister, but the kitchen is probably the best place right now and you need to see this.”

“Not at all Peggy.”

The secretary turned the set on and, placing the remote on the table, left the room. The quartet watched in fascination as the news showed the continued stalemate in Belleville and scenes from various cities of the demonstrations.

Vanessa muted the sound, then spoke to her companions. “Okay, this has gone far enough. It has to be stopped now.

“General, who’s in charge in Belleville?”

“A Captain Monaghan is Madame Prime Minister.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Captain Gerald Monaghan was career Canadian army before the Cornwall Articles and joined Yorkland with the same rank. He has combat experience in Afghanistan, as well as peace-keeping duties elsewhere as part of the UN forces. He also understands the importance of media and their influence. If I had to pick a man to head that operation, Gerry Monaghan is the man I’d choose. As it was, it was just happenstance that he happened to be duty officer at the time.”

“If I were to send Anna to Belleville with carte blanche to end this, would he have any problems in taking orders he may consider distasteful from a politician?”

“No, ma’am. He swore an oath to uphold the Constitution of Yorkland and accept orders from its legal representatives, of which Ms Milton is one. May I ask why?”

Vanessa looked at her friend. “Ms Milton, tell General Meaford what your idea was – the nasty one.”

“From the way you phrased that, I take it as a direct order from the Prime Minister.

“Mr Haddon, General Meaford, my bloodthirsty idea, to use the Prime Minister’s description, was to make one last attempt at negotiation and, if that fails, flatten the place.”

Both men looked astonished. The Minister spoke first. “Ms Milton, that’s outrageous! We can’t go around annihilating Yorkland’s citizens willy-nilly! Think of the reaction!”

The Prime Minister glared at her Minister of Defence. “Minister,” her voice cold, “this so-called citizen has already murdered three of your soldiers.”

“Three madam? I understood only the man on the highway was killed.”

“Three. In addition to the sergeant on highway patrol, two of the men at the house have been killed by rifle fire.

“Good God man! This maniac is holding a good portion of the army at bay. And doing it on international television! And you expect us to walk up and say ‘pretty please, Mr Johnston, would you put down your rifle and surrender quietly? Don’t be an ass!”

The Minister had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I apologize Prime Minister. I was not aware of the other casualties.

“General, what’s your opinion on this? You’re the military man.”

Gregory Meaford took a few moments before replying. “Madame Prime Minister, Ms Milton, Mr Minister, based on the reports I have, I must agree with Ms Milton’s assessment and suggestion. This man is not going to surrender quietly. Our negotiating team has been there for hours and the only result has been, as Ms Anderson said, two more Yorkland soldiers killed.”

“Fine. Thank you General Meaford.” Turning to Anna, she continued “Anna, I want you on the ground in Belleville as soon as you can get there. I want you to give negotiation one final try. If it fails, turn Captain Monaghan loose.

“General, can you arrange a helicopter for Ms Milton?”

“Yes Madame Prime Minister. I can arrange for her to be picked up here.”

The secretary opened the door again. “Prime Minister, turn up the volume.”

Vanessa did as requested and the foursome turned their attention to the news once again.

“We repeat. We have just received information that three other men, allegedly members of the mob involved in the highway killing have just been arrested at their homes. All arrests are reported to have been accomplished without violence. As details are received, we’ll pass them on. Now, back to Belleville.”

The Prime Minister spoke first “Well, that may help you Anna. If Johnston knows his buddies are in custody, it may make him unwilling to keep fighting.”

General Meaford, who had left the room to arrange for the helicopter, returned. “The flight is all arranged Ms Milton. The chopper should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you General.”

“General, while Anna is in transit, could you contact Captain Monaghan directly and inform him of what we’ve decided here this morning“glancing at her watch, she corrected herself “or rather afternoon, and let him know that Anna speaks with the full authority of the Government of Yorkland?”

“Certainly. Do you wish me to tell him what the plan is? That Ms Milton will attempt to negotiate once again and that if it fails, he is to take the objective?”

“It sounds so cold put into military terms, especially when we’re talking about destroying a man and his home.” She sighed. “Yes, please make certain he knows exactly what may happen.”

The secretary knocked on the door again. “Ms Milton, the helicopter has arrived. It’s on the front lawn.”

“Thanks, Peggy.” Turning to the other three, she continued,

“Well, by tonight the four of us will either be Yorkland’s greatest heroes, or its greatest villains. Wish me well.”

“You’ll do well Anna. I’ve not seen your negotiating skills fail yet.”

With that Anna Milton left for the short flight to Belleville.

Vanessa Anderson turned to General Meaford, ignoring the Minister of Defence. “General, I know you’ve been keeping an eye on the more obnoxious groups or dissidents for months now. Do you know who the key people in each group are?”

“Why, yes, of course. We’ve got dossiers on them all.”

“Good. When we get word from Anna on the outcome in Belleville, I want you to round up those leaders.”

Neal Haddon started upon hearing those instructions” Madame Prime Minister, I must protest! You can’t use the army as your own private police force. These people are just exercising their right of free speech!”

“Mr Haddon, I’ll try to explain this to you in words without too many syllables. ‘These people’ as you call them, are attempting to overthrow the duly elected government of Yorkland. They are not doing this because of oppressive policies or actions on the part of that government, but because they wish to bring about the dissolution of Yorkland. I agree with free speech, but what these ringleaders are engaged in is sedition, not free speech.” Pausing, she pointed at the television. “Haven’t you been paying attention to the news lately? And do you know what another word for ‘sedition’ is, Mr Haddon? TREASON!” Vanessa screamed that last word at the unfortunate Minister of Defence.

“These people don’t care that Yorkland has a booming economy, in fact a better economy than Canada. They don’t care that they have a high standard of living. What they do care about is that Yorkland, the former southern Ontario, is no longer part of Canada. Most of them are screaming for what they’re calling ‘re-Confederation’, or if that isn’t possible, becoming the next state in the Union.

“As you know, ever since September 11, 2001, Canada enacted anti-terrorism legislation. What you may not know, and should, since homeland security falls in your bailiwick, is that Yorkland copied that legislation. ‘These people’, as you called them, are advocating terrorism and treason!

“And you would have the government just tell them ‘Naughty, naughty, mustn’t do that’?

The Minister of Defence sat quietly for a few minutes, weighing Vanessa’s words. Finally, “Madame Prime Minister, I feel I have lost your confidence in my abilities to perform my duties as Minister of Defence. You will have my resignation on your desk within the hour.”

Vanessa softened a little. “Neal, it’s not that I don’t have confidence in your abilities, I just don’t think Defence is the proper portfolio for you. I need your skills in Cabinet. Don’t resign, please. Let’s get this settled, then I’ll shuffle posts so you’re in a Ministry more suited to your talents. Okay?”

“Okay, I won’t resign now. Let me think about your offer and I’ll consider it. In the meantime, I don’t think I can contribute anything else to the meeting. Madame Prime Minister, if I may be excused?”

“Certainly Neal. Be careful.”

The Minister left without a backward glance.

Gregory Meaford looked at his friend and leader. “You know Vanessa, I think Anna is right and by tonight we’ll be either heroes or monsters. We’ll be hailed as the saviours of Yorkland or the people who destroyed the country. In any case Yorkland will never be the same.

”And, if I may make a suggestion? If you replace Neal Haddon, find someone more supportive of the military. Mr Haddon means well, but he hasn’t a clue what we need.”

“I’ll do that. I have a feeling we’re going to need a strong military in the future. Now, what else can we do? If we do nothing, anybody with a grievance against anything will take to the street and kill our people. If Anna fails with the negotiations, we’ll make a martyr out of Albert Johnston.”

“No, I don’t think we’ll make a martyr of him. We will make an example of him. People will see that we take the murder of our soldiers very seriously and deal with the culprits severely. That in itself will deter some of these dissenters. Vanessa, if my troops have to rase the complete town of Belleville, Albert Johnston will pay for murdering that sergeant, as will his cronies.”

The landing of the helicopter carrying Anna stirred the media from the lethargy that had set in as they waited for some action at the scene of the siege. The waiting game made for terrible television and the arrival of some personage by helicopter promised to liven things up. Speculation among the reporters, some of it on air, had Vanessa herself arriving. Some had General Meaford arriving. Guesses covered the complete Cabinet, but all were foiled. Anna was taken in a closed vehicle to the command post to meet with Captain Monaghan.

“Ms Milton, welcome to my nightmare.” When he saw Anna’s shocked expression, he continued, “Sorry to sound so flip, but General Meaford spoke with me and explained the plan. I realize the army of Yorkland is still basically a police force, so I must admit to a certain misgiving deploying troops against my own citizens. Don’t worry though, it won’t stop me from carrying out my orders, Ms Milton.”

“Thank you Captain Monaghan. General Meaford assured me of your co-operation. Can you fill me in on what’s been going on here?”

“Sure. First of all, one of the other men involved in the murder of Sergeant Williams had a change of heart and turned himself in and identified the others. We have them in custody now. Sergeant Williams was a good man and will be missed.”

Anna interrupted. “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve heard his name.”

“Bob Williams was one of my men. That’s one reason I won’t have a problem dealing with Mr Johnston.

“Now, as I was saying. We attempted to apprehend Mr Johnston early this morning and my men were driven back by rifle fire. Since then, we’ve tried negotiating with him and lost two more men. Head shots, both of them. They were wearing body armour, so it seems Mr Johnston can be a crack shot when he chooses. I moved the press back a mile. Because of the layout of the neighbourhood, this area is out of their sight and the trees block the view of their cameras. I’ve had all air traffic banned from the area and the former OPP traffic helicopters and planes are enforcing that ban. I was able to bully the telephone company into giving us his number and we’ve been trying to negotiate by phone rather than risk any more personnel. I have to say, Ms Milton, my men are getting hot and cranky just sitting around waiting for something to do.”

“Well, Captain. That’s the reason I’m here – to make something happen. You are aware, are you not, that I’ve been given full authority to act in this? I’ll try negotiating again, and if that doesn’t succeed, your men will have something to do. Where do you have the negotiations set up? I may as well get started.”

“We’ve been working from behind cover. We’re well within range of the house and, as I said, Mr Johnston has proven extremely accurate. I’ll take you there now. It’s a rather roundabout route, but it keeps us away from the windows of the house.”

Arriving at the location, set up behind a sedan, Anna made herself comfortable. Noting the telephone was equipped with a speaker, she flipped in on, then called the house. After five rings, an angry voice answered. “I told you no more fucking phone calls!” she heard.

“Mr Johnston. I’m Anna Milton and I’d like to talk with you to see if we can resolve this situation.”

“Well, well, the bitch who destroyed Ontario herself. Doesn’t matter what you say bitch, I’m not coming out.”

“Mr Johnston, I’m sure you are aware we have enough men and supplies to just wait you out. You can’t last forever in there.”

“I’m doin’ okay. I’ll just wait until your little toy soldiers get called home by their mommies.”

While he was speaking, Anna scrawled a note to Captain Monaghan “have you cut the power and water?” and received a nod in response.

“Mr Johnston, you’ve already learned we’ve cut the power and water to your place. How long do you expect to survive without water and lights?”

“I can outlast you, bitch. Now get off my line and get off my land!” The last was punctuated by several shots, all of which came uncomfortably close to the sedan.

“Mr. Johnston. This is the last time I’m going to ask. Put down your weapon and come out.” More shots greeted the statement.

“You know we have the others who were involved in the murder of Sergeant Williams. They’re all saying you did it.”

“You’re lying! You don’t have shit!”

“Mr Johnston, do you recognize these names?” Anna read the names of the arrested suspects. More gunfire was the response.

“Screw you bitch! Those guys wouldn’t give me up.”

“What do you say Mr Johnston, want to come out peacefully?”

Silence greeted the question.

Anna waited a few minutes, then turned to Captain Monaghan. “Well, Captain, it appears that for the first time I failed in my negotiations. Now comes the part neither of us wanted.”

She turned away. With her back to the military officer, she said, “Captain Monaghan, please effect the capture and arrest of Albert Johnston.”

Captain Monaghan saluted her back and said simply “Yes, Ma’am.”

He strode off to set up the operation, leaving Anna alone. Pulling out her cell phone and fumbling with the keys through her tears, she called Vanessa Anderson’s private line. “Nessa, it’s Anna. I failed. I’ve ordered Captain Monaghan to effect the arrest of Albert Johnston.” Anna was weeping as she said the words.

“Thanks Annie. I’ll relay word to Gregory. After you left, I told him that once Johnston was in custody – somehow – he was to round up the ringleaders of the more rabid dissident groups. I told him to use the anti-terrorism legislation as grounds. Annie, Annie, as Gregory said, Yorkland will never be the same after today. I think I understand how you feel.”

“Thanks Nessa. I’ll come directly to your place from here. But, I’m not going to leave until this is finished. I gave the order, I’m going to stay and see it through.”

“Okay dear friend. Be careful.”

Retracing her steps, she returned to the observation post, where she found Captain Monaghan barking orders.

During a lull, she approached him. “Captain, with your permission, I’d like to stay with you during this.”

He looked at her, but before he could speak, Anna continued. “I gave the order for this. I want to see it through. I won’t interfere, I promise.”

The captain nodded. “Let me explain what I’m hoping to do. I’ve got marksmen with their weapons trained on every window. Johnston has been wandering about the house every so often, checking the windows. I’m hoping one of my men can get a clean shot at him. If so, the man will advise me he has a shot, but won’t fire until I give the order. Otherwise, the sound of a shot could start a major battle.

“I’ve set up a forward observation post. You can watch from there. Depending upon which window he appears at, we may see nothing.”

Anna nodded. “I understand. God, I really wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“You and me both Ms Milton, you and me both.”

They made their way to the observation post. Once there, Captain Monaghan checked with his men to see if they were all in position. Receiving conformation, he turned to Anna. “Now we wait for Mr Johnston to get careless.”

The wait wasn’t long. About five minutes after they arrived, the radio whispered the words “Two. I’ve got a clean shot. He’s standing near the kitchen window.”

Captain Monaghan picked up the microphone. “Two. Take the shot.”

A single shot rang out.

Thirty minutes later, when no movement had been observed, a man crept to the kitchen window and using a mirror, peeked in. Albert Johnston was dead, sprawled over the kitchen table with most of his head missing.

Again the radio sounded. “Johnston is dead sir.”

Captain Monaghan turned to Anna. She looked pale. She shook her head and whispered, mostly to herself. “What have I done? Why couldn’t I negotiate a different ending?”

Gently, the captain spoke. “Ms Milton, Albert Johnston effectively sealed his fate when he murdered Sergeant Williams. Everything since then was just leading to this moment. If you hadn’t given the order, I’d have gone to General Meaford. He’d have checked with Prime Minister Anderson before agreeing. Either way, the end would be the same. A murderer has received his just punishment.”

“Thank you for that Captain. I appreciate your meaning, but I’m still going to have nightmares about this for a long time.”

“Ms Milton, if you didn’t, I’d wonder if you were human. Without meaning any insult, I strongly suggest counselling. The man that took that shot will be doing just that, even though he’s been trained to do exactly what he did. There’s no weakness in admitting you can’t handle everything.”

Anna smiled. “Thank you Captain. I’ll look into it. Now, I suppose I better get back to Toronto and report to the Prime Minister.”

Captain Monaghan escorted her back to the helicopter himself. On his return to the command post, he was intercepted by the press officer he’d requested. Briefing the man, a lieutenant, he told him to fill in the media on what had transpired, and told him to leave out the name of Anna Milton.

The helicopter again landed on the front lawn of the Prime Minister’s residence. Vanessa was waiting for her at the front door. “Annie, glad you’re safe. Come in. Gregory’s still here.”

“Thanks Nessa. I could use something strong to drink. Hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all dear. I think Gregory and I could use something as well. It’s been a hectic day for all of us.”

They sat once again in the kitchen. Although they had all expressed a desire for strong drink, all three were drinking coffee once more.

“All right, when you’re ready, tell me about Belleville” Vanessa consoled her friend.

Anna Milton took a deep breath. “Oh God, Vanessa. I hope I never again have to issue such an order. I’m going to have nightmares about this day for a long, long time.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee while she gathered her thoughts. “Okay, just let me run through it without interruption, if you don’t mind. If I stop, I’ll never start again.” Another deep breath.

“When I arrived, I was introduced to Captain Monaghan – he’s very nice, by the way. Captain Monaghan took me to the spot they had been negotiating from; it was a safe area and negotiating was being done by telephone. I tried to convince Mr Johnston to surrender and was met by gun fire.” She paused and looked at her friend, then “Vanessa, that son of a bitch was shooting at me!” Looking at General Meaford, she said, “Pardon my language General, but I’ve never been shot at before.”

“No need to apologize Ms Milton. Worse things get said when the bullets start flying.”

Anna continued “All attempts at negotiation failed. The last words he spoke were ‘screw you bitch, those guys wouldn’t give me up’. I asked him again to surrender and he didn’t respond.

At that point, I gave Captain Monaghan orders to effect the capture and arrest of Albert Johnston, then I called you, Nessa. After that I rejoined Captain Monaghan. I felt that as I had given the order, the least I could do was be there to see it carried out. When everything was ready, Captain Monaghan explained what the plan was and about five minutes after that, one of the soldiers reported he had a clear shot. Captain Monaghan ordered him to shoot.

“We waited about half an hour, then someone peeked in the window and reported Johnston was dead. Then I came back here.”

She drained her coffee cup, took a deep breath, then continued. “Vanessa, as I said, I hope I never have to give such an order ever again in my life and I certainly hope you never have to do it either. That applies to you as well, General. Knowing that words you’ve spoken resulted in the death of another human being is a tremendous burden.”

Silence for a few moments, then Gregory Meaford spoke up. “Ms Milton, don’t look at it like that. Albert Johnston effectively signed his own death warrant the second he resisted the sergeant on 401. Every action he took from that point on, from murdering Sergeant Williams, to killing the two negotiators, to shooting at you seemed designed to lead to his death. If you hadn’t given that order, Captain Monaghan had the authority to make the decision on his own. No, Anna, this man was dedicated to the overthrow of the government of Yorkland – according to what Captain Monaghan told me, he kept referring to it as Ontario – which is treason and the punishment for treason is execution.

Before Anna could respond, Vanessa’s secretary knocked on the door. “Excuse me Prime Minister, I think you should turn on the news.”

“Thanks Peggy.” Vanessa reached for the remote and adjusted the volume.

“We’re live at Belleville and we’ve just been informed the army will have a statement in a few minutes. Gunfire was heard about an hour ago – several bunched shots, followed a short time later by a single shot.

“Here’s an officer now”.

“Good afternoon members of the press. My name is Lieutenant Shaw. I have a brief statement to make and will take a few questions afterward.

“At 1430 hours this afternoon, that’s 2:30, Albert Johnston was killed by an army marksman after lengthy attempts at negotiation failed. Included in these attempts were several by a government negotiator as well as our own team. Mr Johnston was wanted in connection with the murder, early this morning, of Sergeant Robert Williams on Highway 401 near Belleville.

“We currently have four other men in custody who are also charged with Sergeant Williams’s death.

“Mr Johnston had faced a long list of charges, including three counts of first degree murder.

“I’ll take questions now.”

“Lieutenant Shaw, you said ‘three counts of murder’. I understood only Sergeant Williams was killed.

“No sir. Mr Johnston shot and killed two of our negotiating team earlier today.”

“Lieutenant, can you tell us who the government negotiator was? Was it an experienced negotiator?”

“I will not identify the negotiator, but yes, they were experienced in negotiation.

“Thank you gentlemen, that’s all for now. As more information becomes available, we will release it.”

Vanessa muted the sound. “Well, that was well handled. General, please thank Captain Monaghan for keeping Annie’s name out of it.”

She turned to Anna. “Now, while you were gone, we weren’t idle. After you left, I gave Gregory instructions to round up the more radical dissident leaders as I told you on the phone. Once you called me, I told him to proceed with that. According to reports he’s already received, most of them have been detained already, and the remaining few won’t be free long.

“Anna, I hated doing it, but these groups were taking advantage of the situation in Belleville to attempt an overthrow of the government. They’ve attacked other government ministries and facilities including Queen’s Park. I couldn’t allow that to happen for many reasons.”

The secretary returned at that moment. “Prime Minister, we’re getting calls both here and at Queen’s Park asking for comment from you on the arrests. What shall I tell them?”

“Give me a few minutes Peggy. I’ll let you know shortly.”

Vanessa looked at her Chief of Staff and her friend and advisor. “Well, you both heard Peggy. What do I do?”

The three sat at the kitchen table, discussing what the Prime Minister should do in light of the situation and the reaction. Various ideas were put forth and dissected. Finally, all was ready. Vanessa picked up the phone. “Peggy, can you arrange network time for me tonight, say eight? And I’d like to do it from here.”

Shortly afterward, the secretary knocked on the door. “It’s all arranged Prime Minister. The crews will be here in about an hour to start setting up.”

“Thanks Peggy, you’re a gem.” Turning to her companions, she continued, “I’d like you to both be there – off camera, but there. One thing we didn’t discuss was whether I’ll take questions. Comments?”

Anna shook her head “I don’t think that would be wise at this point Vanessa. We still don’t have the full story, so they could trip you up.”

Gregory Meaford nodded. “I agree. Once we know the full story, we can put out a proper press release. But until then, I’d stick with what we’ve already discussed.”

“Thank you both for your opinions. Now, I must start preparing to meet the press.”

The next few hours were hectic ones at the Prime Minister’s residence with the camera crew, who would cover the speech for all the networks and any local channels that chose to carry it, setting up lights and cameras and checking sound levels; the staff hustling about in the usual performance of their duties; and Anna and Gregory trying to maintain low profiles.

Finally, a few minutes after eight o’clock, the announcer spoke up “We are at the residence of the Prime Minister, where she will shortly make an announcement regarding the events of today. We’ve been told it’s a comprehensive speech, so questions will not be entertained at this time, but full details will be released once they become available. Now, The Right Honourable Vanessa Anderson, Prime Minister of Yorkland.”

Vanessa took the dais, placed her notes in front of her and smiled at the cameras.

“Good evening, citizens of Yorkland. This has been a sad day in the short history of our nation and I fear we will never be the same again.

“As you all know, early this morning, army sergeant Robert Williams was murdered at the side of Highway 401 in the Belleville area. Four of the men believed responsible for this atrocity are in custody. The fifth member of the mob is dead. I will not identify the four suspects, as they are innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

“The fifth member was one Albert Johnston of Belleville. Mr Johnston was a known opponent of Yorkland’s separation from Canada and had been involved in previous acts of sabotage. Today, along with several other men, he brutally beat Sergeant Williams to death and later, when officers went to apprehend him, fired upon them. Over the course of the day, Mr Johnston also killed two members of the negotiating team. Finally, after a government negotiator was unable to convince him to surrender, and he fired upon that negotiator, an army marksman shot him dead.

“Concurrent with the events in Belleville, and, in our opinion designed to take advantage of them, several other groups attacked government personnel and facilities in other Yorkland locations.

“Under the National Security and Anti-Terrorism Act, the leaders of these groups have been placed in custody, and are facing charges of, among other things, sedition and treason for their actions.”

“All people arrested today, both in Belleville and in other locations will begin appearing in courts across the nation tomorrow.

“Thank you and God help us.”

An open letter to Caitlyn Jenner

This was dictated to me by a friend who doesn’t have access to a computer. This friend is not trans, nor lesbian, so qualifies as a disinterested bystander.

Dear Caitlyn:

Despite what you may hear from the media and the costume makers, you are not a superhero. Despite all the media attention, know that you are the wrong person to be designated a spokesperson for the trans community. The reason is simple – you haven’t paid your dues yet. Had you completely embraced the idea of being trans, you wouldn’t refer to other trans people as “they” or “them”, but would use inclusive pronouns such as “we” and “us”.

From what I’ve seen on “I am Cait”, you live in a protected bubble in your gated mansion and have no idea with what the average transwoman has to deal. A short visit to speak with ordinary transwomen does not qualify you to speak on their behalf.

My best friend is a 71 year old transwoman and lesbian and has been for 19 years now. I’ve known her for 11 of those years and right from the beginning I saw her simply as a woman – no thoughts of “he” or “it” or “he/she” – just a very beautiful and likeable woman. Unlike many people, I never asked her what her name was; she volunteered it after about ten years. When she visits, my husband who knows of her past life, treats her as the lady she appears to be. She has been accepted whole-heartedly and without reservation by my own family. Over the time I’ve known her she has told me much of what she’s gone through – the discrimination in employment; the hurtful words heard on the streets and other less savoury things. To me, she is the superhero, not you, for she’s lived through a lot in her quest to be her true self.

If you truly want to live up to that “superhero” billing and become a true media spokesperson, donate some of your money to trans causes. Try living as an ordinary transwoman and see what real life is like. Then we can discuss your status.