The worthiest enemy of authoritarianism is authority. But who are the authoritative heroes available to us, and to the younger generations in particular? Who speaks a truth that everyone can get behind?
"Because it’s America, Tommy. Land of the fries, home of the craven. You’ll get to be you for the first time in your life and you’ll have mucho dinero in your pockets."
The little bike wound up, down, between trees. This certainly was unusual, but she wasn’t complaining despite the bouncing up and down over the now-nonexistent road.
Mateo was barefoot and had no trouble walking on a narrow path covered with raised, gnarled tree roots and undefined decayed matter. She was glad to be behind him so that he didn’t see her trip every few feet.
She told him about living with cows in the Midwest, going off to college in the East, trying some hallucinogens, getting into Hinduism for a while and then getting a degree at the Yale School of Management. It just seemed more practical at the time.
Her schooling in Switzerland was academic enough. Not only could she walk balancing a book on her head, she read the books she balanced. That was a prerequisite.
Peter had known this Sergey for many years. They met first in Berlin, became reacquainted in Managua, ran into each other in Zurich and then under orders from Putin, Sergey had him escorted from his apartment under guard to the Moscow airport.
The professor entered the Fuel Coffee Shop and joined a short, somewhat rotund, Caucasian man wearing a blue Polo jogging outfit who was sitting at a rear table. They spoke rapidly and softly in a language no one in the coffee shop recognized.
