Read the Introduction
February 21, 701
I met Noodin Kasabien a day after Ally and I moved into NAHE. We became friends and then family. When we met, he introduced himself to me as a member of the Chippewa tribe, part of the indigenous people who roamed the land before humans learned to cross the sea. Once travel by sea was possible and the land was settled by those from the European continent, to say they were mistreated is putting it mildly.
The Foundation tried to find and save people from as many cultures as possible. A focus for the habitats of North America was recruiting those who descended from the indigenous inhabitants of this continent. It was a difficult group to recruit from; they were people connected to the land, sky and water around them. Deciding to leave the surface to live underground, possibly for generations, wasn’t always easy. Noodin was proud of his tribe and the fact he had been born on tribal lands. He sat many times to record his language, remembrances and memories of his culture for the archives.
Even though we lived in different parts of the country in entirely different cultures, we were raised around the same time and were exposed to many of the same concepts of what it meant to be male. At least in the United States, almost anything outside the mainstream was considered shameful in the 1950s and most of the 1960s. Anyone with a penis was always understood to be male, and anyone born with a vulva was always female, regardless of any genetic inconsistencies. Society expected and decreed everyone should dress and behave in ways conforming to their assigned gender. (1) Back then, anything other than sexual attraction between a male and a female under those definitions was considered deviant behavior and deserving of punishment. (2) For those like myself, designated male, our role models taught us how to behave through their behavior. We learned to rarely show deep emotion other than anger or contempt except when within our immediate family; even then, our gentlest emotions were reserved only for the female we expected to bond with and our children. (3) We were also taught friendships between men were only expressed through mutual interests like sports, politics, or the pursuit of money and power. The result for me and so of the men of my generation meant there wasn’t much room for showing my gentler emotions, except when I was with Ally. It was oppressive compared to how we live now. But even when we began living in NAHE, I didn’t know any other way of being.
Even then, it took time to begin to understand how badly society on the surface had shaped me and even longer to work on changing my behaviors. Unlearning the crap lessons we were exposed to, both spoken and modeled, is hard. I don’t want the children born now to do the same unpacking and struggle as I had to. Even if I couldn’t change what I felt, I could change what the kids saw, so I did the work and encouraged others to do the same.
I don’t want our kids in the habitats unknowingly conflicted by the contrast between what we teach them and the attitudes and subtle actions we expose them to. And Noodin wasn’t just beside me for this part; he was the person who called me out on my actions and led the charge to expose the need and so began the first attempts toward what we now call directed social evolution.
Kevin Hanlon - March 22, 2017
Almost everyone moving into a habitat had a few weeks to acclimate before starting their jobs and tasks. Speaking from experience, I needed the time. Ally thought differently; she only took a day before diving into work.
Our first full day here was a blur; we spent most of it exploring the Mercantile floor. We needed all the basics, including more furniture, and Ally needed clothes for her meetings. We wandered around, first together and then apart, meeting up again for a late lunch/early dinner. Eventually, we found an Ally-safe place to eat and finally collapsed at home. I just wanted to snuggle, and Ally wanted to unpack. We compromised; she got to unpack one box before I got my snuggles.
The next day, I found myself alone. I had nothing to do and didn't know anyone. I admit I was off balance, and my mind started swirling. I couldn't admit it then, not even to myself, but I was afraid. Even after all the assurances we could live here for the rest of our lives once we signed the Charter, I couldn't shake the feeling our ability to live here depended on how well Ally did in her job.
I didn't know what we would do if we had to go back to the surface. I had taken an early retirement, which meant we were stuck with my bringing in less money unless I could find another job. And who wanted to hire someone so close to retirement age? Ally would have to find another job, we'd have to buy a new house, and how would we explain any of this to anyone?
I've learned to recognize these mind-spins, as I now call them, but I couldn't back then. Even now, when I realize what's happening, I can't always stop. I know I can't hide it from Ally, but she gracefully pretends not to notice when I do.
Once we agreed to live here, we only stayed a few days for medical appointments and meetings, at least in Ally's case. I didn't want to explore without her, so I spent the time she was away playing with the computer system, trying to understand what our life would be like once we moved. Now, I knew I had to register and schedule my community tasks. I had seen it listed on the interface, but there was also an option to register in person at the Liaison office, and I needed a reason to get out and explore.
Ally and I still live in the house we were initially assigned. It's at the edge of the third slice, right up against the outer wall. Since the Liaison office is located at the inner circle, I headed to the nearest walkway.
I still remember what it was like as I left the house. So much of it felt normal. The weather seemed just right for a morning in late March; the sun was up, and it was a pleasant stroll to the walkway, if slightly warmer than I was used to this time of year. The yards resembled every fantasy of a white picket fence come to life. The fences were low enough to invite a conversation with a neighbor or someone walking past. Each yard was planted differently, and while I didn't know what anything was, I could see some of the trees and bushes even had buds on them. But I couldn't see past the front yards. Higher fences adjoining the front of the houses separated the front and back yards.
And there, alongside the familiar, was the unfamiliar: the houses looked like depleted and squashed balls cut in half and set onto each normal-looking yard. Each house's walls curved seamlessly into the other and attached to a flat roof with no straight edges except for the door lined up with the entrance into each yard. The walls were smooth, with no windows—panes of transparent material allowing the sun's light into our homes. I had learned the images we could display in any room were streams from cameras on the exterior walls, not that I could ever find one. I knew it made for more private living, but not seeing any windows around still made me feel strange. Windows were part of almost every building on the surface but let others peek into our lives, especially in our homes. To protect our privacy, we covered them, shutting out the very reason we had them in the first place. After thinking about it, I decided this solution was a win-win situation. I got to see outside and was secure in my own home. I figured I'd get used to the look soon enough. The houses were still distinguishable, even with similar walls and construction. There were homes of different sizes, even a few double houses like ours, and each of them was colored in a unique and colorful counterpoint to the yards just coming out of dormancy. It was beautiful but very different from what I had spent my entire life around.
Once I was on the walkway, I kept looking around. Even here, things seemed normal, but not. I was used to walkways like these in public spaces like airports, but never outside. Looking ahead, I knew the central platform tube was projecting the opposite side to hide itself. I didn't notice it much, especially from further back. Everything felt the same, just like a few days ago, the last time Ally and I had taken a walk on the surface. The walkway ended and I made my way over a greenway and finally came to the buildings wrapping around the platform. As I got closer, I could read the signs on each unevenly placed door announcing what was inside: 'Community Room 1', 'Mini Stores' and 'Liaison Office'.
I felt strange as I approached the Liaison office. Ally was going to be in charge of it—not just the people in this office but in all the other habitats all over the world. I decided not to mention her name here; I didn't want any special treatment. Then, my mind started spinning again.
She didn't have any experience in management; what would happen to us if she couldn't do the job? What if they were lying and they did kick us out?
Luckily, once I stepped inside, I didn't have time to go further down the rabbit hole. The liaison who greeted me led me into an empty private office. I had barely sat down when the door opened, and a woman came inside, introducing herself as Anna (she/her). I asked her if it wouldn't be easier to identify herself only if others couldn't figure it out for themselves.
I still remember her answer. "Not everyone identifies with the gender roles their sexual organs or even their body or facial features indicate. Much of surface society has historically chosen to require everyone born with similar sexual organs to abide by specific and limiting roles along with symbols of their assigned gender, such as toy choices, clothing types and colors. When someone doesn't naturally fit into a role, they are pressured to fit in. The stigma against non-conformity runs deep, even today. The animosity against those attempting to fit their natural inclinations turns them into outsiders. We cannot support that, especially when the Charter speaks of everyone being of equal value and worth. We want to change the habits of the surface and accept everyone living here based on their chosen identity. We reduce the stigma of identity by making this into an ordinary situation where everyone is addressed according to their choice, not society's assumptions. It’s considered respectful and polite to declare how you want to be addressed." She told me an easy way to help would be to add my preferred forms of address to my personal profile.
When she asked if she could explain the etiquette around gender, I have to tell you, I sighed. My default thought process at that time was, I'll call you whatever you want, but can't we just agree pronouns should default to the regular ones and only be said if it's outside the norm? You can probably tell what I used to think of as PC stuff didn't come easy to me; I hadn't been brought up to act the way people seemed to expect now. It made me feel out of step. But I knew I'd just have to get used to it, so I let her explain.
Her explanation was, "It's fairly straightforward. If you put your preferences in your profile, your identification will be a part of every reservation, scheduled event and meeting. It makes it much easier for conversations to flow. When meeting someone for the first time, introduce yourself with your preferences. If you are already acquainted with someone in a small group, they will introduce you using your preferences. And finally, if you don't know someone's preferences, always use the gender-neutral, they/them." At least she explained the rules to me in a way I could understand. I was grateful she was so explicit. So I told her I was a he/him.
Once we got through my first etiquette lesson, Anna and I got to work on why I came in. She gave me a quick rundown about mandatory tasks and why we did them. The community's most critical jobs allow it to survive and thrive, but historically, they were also the most despised and underpaid jobs on the surface. Making sure everyone does their part removes the bias from those crucial jobs, and everyone has a part in keeping their surroundings and community healthy. It made sense to me, and while I didn't want to do any dirty jobs, I would, as long as I knew everyone had to. I signed up for a few tasks at her suggestion just to see what they were like. I can’t remember what else I signed up for back then, but my mandatory tasks were mostly recycling and gardening in those early years. Anna explained that the houses' colors and patterns were designs I could license or even learn to create. She told me where to find a custom design program and where I could license exterior and interior designs. She recommended we license a few interiors to simulate the house we were supposed to be living in for any video calls with those on the surface. I hated the requirement we couldn't tell anyone on the surface where we were, but we had agreed to live by it.
Once I left the office, I wasn't sure what to do. I noticed the medical office I would be working in was next door. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I found myself hoping for the personal camaraderie I had enjoyed as a volunteer paramedic for my local fire company. In my experience, first responders of any type become a tight and close-knit group, so I was hoping for the same down here. Once I entered the office and introduced myself, I quickly realized it was a professional operation. Oh, everyone was friendly, but they were focused on their jobs. I took the hint soon enough and wandered out.
I wasn't ready to go home, but I wasn't ready to explore another floor, especially by myself. I decided to follow the path around the building and see what was around. As I wandered, I saw some shops, a mini market complete with a small produce section and a miniature version of Stores that stocked the same essential items we had picked up the day before. I saw places to get haircuts, which I wouldn't need, but Ally would. I saw doors marking community rooms set further apart.
Gradually, I became aware of the noises coming from the other side of the path and looked over to see what was happening. I first noticed small children running around and playing on playground equipment scattered across the ground. Then, I saw small groups of adults scattered across benches and tables, talking and laughing. I noticed I was right next to a shop selling pastries and hot drinks and decided to get something to eat. Once I came out with my apple strudel and coffee, I scanned the area, looking for a place to sit, and I saw a hand raised in my direction, waving me over.
I approached the group, seated at a few tables dragged together. Some had people playing board games, and others were filled with people talking and laughing, including the person who had waved me over. He looked a few years older than me, with a similar build to my own and long, graying brown hair he wore in a braid down his back. It looked like he had spent plenty of time outdoors on the surface; his smiling face was creased much more than mine.
"I’m Noodin Kasabien. I’m Chippewa, originally from Minnesota."
Now, Noodin never hesitated when naming who or what he was. He was very proud of his heritage. He and everyone else seemed friendly, so I introduced myself. I told them we had just moved down, and Ally was already working. After that, a few of them decided to take me to the fun areas.
As they talked about where to start, Noodin told me about the group. Some had partners working today, like Ally, while others had moved down here by themselves. He told me it was much more fun to be around other people and do things together than alone. I agreed with him. Ally was a loner, but I wasn't. I liked being around people even though it took more time for me to figure things out before I started interacting than it did for most people. I liked talking with Noodin. He was all upfront, and I didn't have to spend energy trying to parse his words or figure him out.
Sheri Slade, who looked older than Noodin, began explaining the different floors to me when she found out our tour had been cut short. I was amazed there were five recreation and entertainment floors in each section. It seemed like a lot. One of the rec floors was for indoor-type activities and physical exercise classes, from martial arts to yoga. There were places to play games like racquetball and even roller skating rinks. The other two recreational floors were for outdoor activities; a few sections even had stadiums. They told me the playing fields were often rented out for festivals or parties. I found out the entertainment floors had separate age focuses. One featured pursuits available to everyone, emphasizing activities for children of all ages. The other was an age-restricted floor, only available to those old enough to sign the Charter.
After a lot of discussion, during which I sat and ate my snack, and Noodin just grinned, they decided to take me to the indoor recreation floor. And that is how I found myself being escorted over to the elevators behind the shops and up to recreation floor 3.
When we arrived, the layout reminded me of other floors I had seen, like Mercantile or Culinary. The layout resembled those floors, with paths crossing walkways and buildings on either side of adjoining paths. The buildings were different, though. Instead of curved edges, these buildings were all straight lines, uniform in color and design. Each had a light gray background with a regular pattern of darker rectangles. The greenery surrounding the buildings was uniform as well. It reminded me of an office campus.
We walked by a few buildings and finally entered one; a schedule was on the wall close to the entrance, showing the classes and locations for the day. I noticed a variety of exercise classes, something for everyone, from high-intensity cardio to martial arts and yoga. Sherri pointed out day spas offering massages and other body treatments, which I knew Ally would love.
There was so much! I saw racquetball courts and gyms full of equipment, including some pretty cool treadmills with the runner's heads and shoulders hidden beneath a hood or bubble. Sherri told me the bubbles played regular streams or displayed 360-degree views of virtual runs or walks. I had no idea what to do next. After about an hour of walking into different buildings and peeking into rooms, I was tired and a bit overwhelmed.
Noodin suggested we see a travel movie on Entertainment 2. He told me he loved them. The theater was small, with five rows of four seats. Each seat was on its own base, separated from the others. Sherrie and Noodin sat on either side of me. Sherri insisted on my using the seat straps.
Once the movie started I forgot about everything else. We were on a river. It reminded me of the White River in Jamaica when Ally went a few years ago. The river was slow, and we floated down. The banks were filled with bright flowers against tall trees. It was relaxing, and I found myself almost falling asleep. Then the river picked up and turned into some rapids. I might have fallen out of my seat if I hadn't been strapped in! I was awake then, and it was a lot of fun.
I found out later these movies were all part of a genre, all with experiences we didn't have down here. Sledding, moving through forests, exploring ruins of the ancient world, all of those were shown regularly. Not anymore, though. Back then there was a nostalgia for the surface and what we no longer had easy access to, mainly by those of us who had been recruited. As time passed and our population was replaced by those born in the habitat, they became less interested in the surface and what we had lost, so the movies weren't shown anymore. I can't blame anyone. Still, I miss those travel movies.
Throughout the day, I found myself drawn to Noodin. I wanted to get to know him better, but I wasn't sure how. I never picked up on social cues, not like Ally did, and I depended on her to navigate these situations. I didn't know what to do and then everyone was saying goodbye. Then Noodin asked me if I wanted to go fishing in the morning.
I have to tell you, I was totally confused. When we were here the first time, we were told by our tour guide they couldn't replicate some important agricultural ecosystems, including the ocean. "Fishing?"
Noodin's grin just made me want to grin back. "Yep, Section One has a freshwater lake. We can catch some fish for dinner if you’d like," he offered. "Say yes."
What could I say but "yes?"
We agreed to meet at the same place on the green, but he wanted me to be there by 5:30 a.m. I'm not a morning person, not then and not now, but I agreed to go.
Ally hadn't slept well the night before and neither did I. When I did get up, it was as quietly as I could to let her sleep. I decided to put aside my fears for the future and just enjoy a morning of fishing with a new friend. I made it to the green with just a minute to spare. I was relieved when I saw him right where he had said, with a drink and pastry in front of him. I hadn't been sure it wasn't a joke, it's why I hadn't told Ally where I was going last night.
"Aanii Kevin," Noodin said. It sounded like he was saying hello, but I wasn't sure why he was using another language. So, I asked him what he meant. He didn't laugh or smirk at me as if I should know. He simply told me it was 'hello' in the language he first learned. (1) His response, a simple explanation without being condescending, made me happy. He answered the question I meant, even if it wasn't the question I asked. I went into the shop to get my breakfast with a light heart.
I was teased a lot as a kid; I just didn't seem to think the same way everyone else did. What seemed natural or even instinctive to most wasn't for me. I had to consciously assemble the clues telling me how to act. I did this whenever I was in a new situation; I had to go through my mental lists to find a way through. It made me appear slower of thought than I was. When Ally and I got together, she encouraged me to ask questions and stop assuming. It wasn't always easy and sometimes I still slipped back into my old habits, but we had agreed I would try to ask when I didn't understand.
Once I got my food and sat across from him, he told me about how he was recruited by the Foundation fifteen years before when he was in charge of a waste-water treatment plant in New York State, hundreds of miles north of where we are now. He continued to work and spent most of his tasking time training others to keep the water in the habitat clean and safe. He told me, "It's essential work, so the time I spend training is worthwhile for everyone."
I hadn't spent much time thinking about the Foundation or what it would be like to live down here. I had spent those last four months on the surface, laser-focused on what we needed to do to get Ally down here. I hadn't thought about who was recruited, but I knew I would never have been recruited on my own. I was here because I was married to Ally, and my personality was acceptable. They needed her unique skillset, not me. I was replaceable. But I hadn't thought about everything necessary to keep a place like this going; it took skills of all kinds. For instance, they didn't just need doctors; they needed lab technicians, phlebotomists, nurses, assisting staff, researchers, and everyone else necessary to keep everyone healthy. Noodin was like me, an older guy, each of us smart enough in our own way. But not nuclear scientist or brain surgeon smart. He'd gotten recruited directly to perform a job he knew well. He didn't just bring the knowledge and keep it to himself; he was training others, passing all his knowledge and skill to a future generation. For some reason, this made me feel better. I felt as if maybe I could create a life down here for myself, Kevin, not just with Ally but on my own. Once I learned how things worked, I hoped I would find it easier to navigate down here.
Once we finished our meal, Noodin pulled a cooler out from under the table, and we made our way to Section One and the lake.
It was still dark when we walked through the treeline surrounding the lake. Like the last ag floor I had visited, there was no walkway. Instead of the expansive view I had on all the floors I had been on, all I could see was the path before me and further away in the dimness, seemed to be a wall. Between the treeline and the wall was a small, open-sided building. As we approached the building, the wall revealed itself to be the slope of a hill. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this.
We made our rental equipment choices at the kiosk and began walking the path up the hill. As we started climbing, the path became steps, and we grabbed the cooler to lift it between us. To either side were terraced fields planted with grape vines, still dormant. Just as we topped the rise, the sun rose behind us, revealing the scene before us.
Looking down in front and to the side, the downward slope was anchored by trees. I could identify cedar, some sort of pine, and bare-branched trees scattered between. Below was the lake itself. It was large and dark, still and quiet. It looks much the same then as it does now. In some places, the trees meet the water line, hanging over and creating shadowed shallows. In other areas, the trees end further back, giving way for picnic tables set onto sturdy ground cover and then melding into the sandy beaches leading to the lake. The patterns are constructed, but I didn't care then or now. It still feels like the surface to me.
As we got closer to the lake, we came to another building near the water. The attendant had our fishing equipment already stowed in our double kayak resting at the water's edge. I agreed to the rules: no more than two fish home per person, anything smaller than 45 centimeters had to be released. I saw a ruler on the kayak, which made it easier since I had no idea how long 45 centimeters was. (2) Noodin was kind enough to give me time to practice with the kayak near the shore before we headed out into the lake. He knew of a spot where he was sure we would find the fish he wanted.
We paddled for a while, and I just let myself enjoy the gentle exercise and the day as it unfolded. I watched as the light from the sunrise caught the wisps of clouds and turned the sky above me into an iridescent light show. I watched it change from grays and blues to faint orange and yellow tendrils. It was beautiful, and I found myself relaxing for the first time since Ally and I had been introduced to the habitat. I could hear birds begin chirping in the distance, making it feel like one of the few times my father took me camping.
After a while, Noodin found a spot he liked, and we got down to the serious business of fishing, which included a lot of soft conversation so we didn't scare the fish. He explained the lake's existence, telling me. "This is a fish farm, which allows for recreational fishing. This lake serves all the sections, and since the harvest is divided evenly, fish isn't on the menu much. I'd rather catch our own, even if we can't keep most of them. I don’t mind. I like being on the water here; it reminds me of home. I grew up on a reservation in Minnesota, also known as the land of ten thousand lakes, where I spent a lot of my life fishing and hunting. This isn’t the same, but it’s close enough. We're looking to bring home walleye today. I dredge it in cornmeal mixed with my special spice recipe and then fry it."
He was curious about Ally, and I explained she was the new Director of Habitat Liaisons. He thought she was replacing Mika, the NAHE Liaison Director at the time, but that wasn’t the case; Ally was brought in to run all the Liaison offices in all the habitats. He seemed satisfied once I told him Mika's job was safe and she would report to Ally.
We discussed how neither of us expected to like it down here, and he told me a part of his story.
"I grew up on the White Earth Reservation in Minnesota; we were poor, and it wasn’t a good life by any stretch of the imagination. My dad was an alcoholic, and there weren’t a lot of jobs around; we ended up hunting and fishing for sustenance. Between all of us scrounging, hunting and the garden my mom and sisters grew, we ate. We all worked, but I wanted something more than I could hope for on the reservation. So, I ended up about 100 miles outside Minneapolis, working at a wastewater treatment plant. I worked my way up and met my wife, Abeque; she was also full Chippewa. We had a daughter, Anang, and I was happy. When Anang was 18, my wife died. Without Abeque between us, my relationship with Anang quickly went downhill. I didn’t know she was attracted to other women, and once I realized it, well, the gloves came off on both sides. I couldn’t accept it, and shortly after, she stopped talking to me.
"I told myself I didn’t care, got offered a job running a plant in New York State and moved there. I was too proud and stubborn to try to contact Anang then. A few years later, I got recruited to come down here and help run this plant. I didn’t have many close relationships up there, no one to go fishing with, and I wasn’t interested in most of the sports the guys around me were into, so I decided to move. It’s been challenging, but it wasn’t the job; it was learning to live an entirely different life."
In the middle of his story, the fish started biting, and I got the thrill of feeling and seeing my rod begin to dip into the water. Noodin taught me to set the hook and reel it in, dipping the tip of my rod toward the water to straighten the bend and then pulling it up as I reeled in the line. Once I brought the fish to the surface, it began to fight and try to get away, pulling our kayak along. I finally got it close to the kayak, and Noodin reached out with the net and brought it into the boat. That got my heart going. I felt terrific, a fish flopping on the kayak and the sun shining down on us. I was hooked! Once that excitement had passed, we returned to fishing, and I shared some of my life with him, including my work as a volunteer paramedic. I told him I'd be working triage in the medical office on our floor. We talked about what it meant to live down here and the adjustments he went through as a single person. Even though we had grown up in drastically different circumstances, there were a lot of ways we were alike.
We spent a few hours fishing, talking and bonding. Then we headed back with our catch, three walleye for dinner.
That night, Noodin showed up for dinner with the fish we caught and a bag of groceries. He and Ally took over the cooking and bonded over that simple act. While we ate our fish and the vegetables Ally had sauteed, Noodin opened up. He spoke about his daughter and his regret at severing their relationship. He talked about how his attitude had shifted in the fifteen years he had lived here. How it finally registered after he moved here and he finally understood people were just people, and it didn’t matter who they loved, how they dressed or identified, or how they chose to change their appearance. It was obvious he wanted to make things right with Anang. He had found her on social media but hadn't contacted her.
When Ally asked why, he told us it was because he couldn't be honest with her about where he was or how he had come to change his mind, and he didn't want to forge any relationship they might have moving forward based on a lie, even one of omission. Back then, even though we moved to the habitat, it didn't mean we gave up contact with the outside world. Some still held jobs with surface companies, working remotely; many kept in close contact with friends and family either directly or through social media. The only requirement was we could not tell anyone on the surface the truth of where we were. The Foundation provided a cover story, including interior and exterior backdrops we could use for video calls and real estate links to share. Neither of us liked the idea, yet we knew we had to adhere to our agreement. I felt sad about what Noodin was going through.
Ally promised him she would see what she could do but cautioned she couldn't promise anything. Later on, she did persuade the Foundation Board to allow it after the Pharos Project was publicly revealed to the world. And so, ultimately, those who wanted to be honest with loved ones above ground had a chance.
Noodin and I became fast friends. He was my first brother down here and helped form part of our family in those first few years. He was with me when Ally couldn't be, and he helped keep some of my mind spinning at bay. His support of me helped me support Ally when she needed me.
We ended up going fishing a lot. Sometimes, we even caught something.
Read the Reflections
20625/01/16
Noodin Kasabien invited Kevin to go fishing and then invited himself to our home for dinner that night. The presumption wasn’t something I was used to, and I was still unclear how anyone entertained in the habitats. Later, I learned most entertaining was done on the culinary, recreation and entertainment floors; many restaurants on the Culinary floor had private gathering rooms of various sizes. Noodin’s presumption eventually turned into our preference; over the years, while we did a lot of typical gatherings in public spaces, I was happiest when we and our chosen family came together in our homes. Gathering with those you love, sharing food, and conversation are among my most precious memories.
Once we were eating, it didn’t take long for me to understand Kevin had mentioned my position and what Noodin was requesting. He had severed relations with his daughter years ago when he was still on the surface over her choosing to love someone of her same gender. After coming here and learning better, he found her on social media and desperately wanted to connect with her, but he refused to do it if he had to lie. While I could understand the reasons for being required to lie, I also, at that moment, understood the toll it was taking on some people.
When we chose to move into the habitat, we weighed the cost of requiring us to lie to our friends and family, and I thought everyone grappled with the same ethical issues. But I hadn’t considered the cost to those who hadn’t, or others like Noodin, who had severed relationships over attitudes they now realized were outdated and harmful. I could well understand why he wouldn’t want to use a lie in an attempt to rebuild a broken relationship. I found myself aching for him, wishing I could promise to fix this and right this obvious wrong and that no one should be required to lie.
But I couldn’t. We had signed the Charter, and I took the oath for my position only two days before, rendering me a public official sworn to tell the truth and required to hold secrets by the very same oath. I could choose to say nothing, but only in a way that held back the fact that secrets even existed. I wasn’t going to dabble in misdirection or double-speak, either, not because of the Charter or my oath but because of my connection with my primary deity.
Hecate has been a part of my spiritual life since I was just beginning to take my first steps on the path, coming as a surprise guest during a guided meditation. Over the years of my partnership with her, her primary injunction to me has been to ‘see yourself with an objective eye’. I have taken it to mean I need to understand the motivations behind my actions and ensure my motivations reflect my ethical structure. To ask myself the hard questions when they diverge, working to be consistent in my reasoning and decisions. Up until we moved, I chose to be open and transparent when answering a question; I didn’t want to lie to anyone.
But how could I correlate what I wanted with the fact that much of my job was sensitive and shouldn’t be shared with most people? I decided on a strategy in the months before we moved to NAHE. The first time I had to use it was with Noodin that night, and I hated it. Because the Charter did not forbid lying, only forbidding lies from those in charge or who had the power to sway public opinion. In other words, lying was forbidden when doing so would harm our community. There was no injunction on lying to those not under the Charter, especially to those who could harm us. Politics on the surface above many of our habitats was becoming more unhinged by the year. Truthfulness on the surface was fainter, drowned out by an ever-increasing firehose of lies. (1) Those who were complicit in trying to destroy the underpinnings of our society spread misinformation through as many channels as they could, using psychological methods to hook nominally rational people into zombie-like adherents. (2) I think it made those of us in the habitat at the time even more sensitive to being truthful and honest with each other.
We watched in real time the havoc being inflicted by those in power on the surface who were lying continuously on complicit media sources. As President when the pandemic hit, Donald Trump’s refusal to acknowledge the severity of that pandemic and actively lying about valid treatments was linked to 40% of the deaths during his time in office. (3) He lied because he thought the actual numbers of those sick and dying would hurt his re-election chances. Almost 200,000 people died because of his lies and the reach they were given. Those most devoted to him, who believed the disinformation he and his allies spread, lived in areas with far higher rates of death than those who chose to decide and act on the facts.(4) To expose our existence to those on the surface who became more radicalized by the year? We couldn’t afford to be honest. As a community, most of us choose to be truthful with our words, and those in public spaces must be impeccable. But the disconnect between not lying to those in the habitats while forcing lies on those on the surface was emotionally problematic, to say the least.
The Foundation Board never relaxed the rule, but they did decide when the time for secrecy had ended, and we came out to the surface world; those down here should be able to choose to be truthful with those on the surface. It was a compromise, but at least people were able to be honest in the end.
End Notes
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Written by: Brandon Sheehan January 15, 152
I heard how Kevin met his first best friend on my inaugural trip to the lake. Noodin Kasabien was proud of his heritage as a member of an Indigenous tribe but, like many others, was raised in poverty and held in disdain by those who immigrated from across the ocean. (1) Although he and Kevin were raised in very different circumstances, they had similar experiences growing up at the same time, children who were influenced toward conformity regardless of the cost to any one individual. Rather than embrace a daughter who chose to love differently than he considered normal, Noodin rejected her with anger. It was only when he came to live here in the habitats where the focus was placed on acceptance and integration that he began to recognize his own intolerance.
I have a hard time imagining the society Noodin and Kevin grew up in. It was a time when casual cruelty towards those who were unlike oneself was accepted and promoted. It took time, but eventually, these two men recognized the damage their upbringing continued to inflict. They took steps not only for themselves but also to help move all of us toward a society where our instincts match our stated values. We still have our faults; after all, it’s only been a hundred and fifty years, not nearly long enough to begin to reverse the damage our ancestors inflicted on us for millennia. But it’s a start.