Revolt of the Perfectly Free

Two-Spirit held a wooden bowl high and slammed it on the raccoon-hide blanket on the ground. The bone dice inside jumped. “I win!” He adjusted his soft brown robe, which was cut in a style that would befit either a man or a woman. His hair fell in black curtains to his shoulders. “Would you like to play again?” I didn’t know Two-Spirit’s real name, even though he was my best friend. Only his close family and name-giver knew. Like him, sometimes I didn’t dress according to normal gender roles. Today I wore a style that had first become popular across the ocean: black pants, a white, long-sleeved dress shirt with a high-stand collar, and a gray Mulrooney vest. My blonde hair was pulled back into a long braid. “Brother!” Two-Spirit’s sister Fawn appeared in the doorway of their longhouse, calling for him in the Lenapé language. He and I were playing mamandin just outside. “Father needs you.” He scratched around his newest tattoo, a turtle on his arm. “I’ll be right there.” I stood and switched to their native tongue, as well. “I should see what my own father is doing.” “Bye, Amelia.” I left the longhouse and passed several more. Some of the homes belonged to Lenni Lenape families, and others to those whose ancestors were from Europe, Africa, or Asia. I’d been raised in a true melting pot of the best features of many multicultural beliefs. We lived in Lewes, the capital of Delaware, a coastal city with a diverse mixture of those from Lenni Lenape tribes, people of European, African, and Asian descent, and younger generations which were uniquely American. My father was the governor, and Two-Spirit’s father the sachem, or chief. The position was not like that of a king, where a son would automatically inherit the position of his father, but it was likely that Two-Spirit’s father still might designate him as his successor one day. The sachem and governor worked together to make sure the cultures of not only our city, but our entire state, continued to flourish. Two-Spirit was a year older than I, seventeen, and had just completed training to be a healer. Sometimes he suggested I consider it, but I thought I would do better as a counselor. People like us were supposed to be especially good at those kinds of things. I was shocked when I learned that, across the ocean, people with spirits which did not always match their physical bodies were jailed, or even worse. The groups of longhouses I passed were mostly occupied by farmers, hunters, or those who simply liked to live close to Mother Earth. As I strolled down the dirt path towards the city proper, a steam-powered planter driven by an automaton rolled through a field to my left. I walked for almost a mile past several more engines working the fields until the surroundings became more urban than rural. The majority of buildings were now European-style. This is where Father and I lived, amongst cobblestone streets crowded with people, horses, and carriages. Merchants of all sorts preferred the crowded city to the longhouse communities. The fire engine rushed past; it was known to race blindly to fires regardless of anyone in its way. I jumped to avoid it, and bumped into a portly man. He grunted, barely glancing at me. “Watch where you’re going, boy.” I smiled. “That’s ‘girl,’ Mr. Pickett.” The man I’d hit had run against my father for election and lost. Mr. Pickett turned to face me, adjusting his eyeglass and top hat. “Oh, Amelia, I should have known. It’s so nice to see the daughter of the state’s leader dressed as a gent when she isn’t running round with the heathens.” I frowned. “If you don’t like it, go back across the ocean.” I stormed away, but soon pushed the encounter out of my mind. Most people here were not like Mr. Pickett. I honestly had no idea why he would bother staying in this country if he liked the tyrannical English way of life. Great Britain used to rule the U.S. colonies, but our country had been free for two generations now—no more persecuting the gender-queer, no more slavery, and no more slaughtering the natives. After walking a few more minutes, I reached the brick house where Father and I lived. As I walked in the front door, my automaton whirred down the hall at top speed holding a red dress that looked far too silky and ruffled and uncomfortable for my liking. “No, Nickey!” I stepped past his cylindrical body (as a child I had decided Nickey was a boy), but his box-like head spun round. Somehow the one black hole there was capable of following my every move. He raised the dress higher in his metal arms and rolled after me, gears clicking and whirring. He couldn’t speak. But it was obvious, once he latched himself to the banister and slid past me as I walked upstairs, that Father had programmed Nickey to put this dress on me come hell or high water. “Oh, hang it. Is something important going on?” Of course, I received no reply. In my bedroom, Nickey grabbed a hairbrush from the bedside table. I waved him away impatiently, and wondered why Father wanted me to dress so hideously today. I could never oblige myself to be suffocated in a corset, so I wore leather underclothes beneath my long, flowing dress. After transforming my hair into a mass of soft curls, Nickey was satisfied and rolled away, leaving me to squeeze into tight black shoes with three-inch heels and straps that wound up my calves. Father’s voice drifted upstairs. “Amelia, are you home?” I decided to rush happily to meet him instead of plodding. “Father!” “You look lovely. We have a very important function to attend.” I forced myself not to slump. “Do I really have to go? Two-Spirit’s initiation ceremony is tonight.” “I’m afraid his ceremony will have to wait.” It was only then I realized Father was sweating. He rushed past me to his library, still talking, so I followed as fast as my pinching shoes would allow. “A delegate from Great Britain arrived today with a message from Queen Victoria. I can only imagine what sort of message it might be, and we’ll need Two-Spirit’s father and all our other top leaders at the capitol building.” “Why on earth would they come here and not New York City?” Father chuckled. “They didn’t intend to arrive here first, but seem to have lost their bearings. It must be a common trait amongst our ancestors.” I shrugged and resigned myself to a boring evening. But as Two-Spirit’s father was considered just as important as mine, I knew at least I would be with my best friend. Father and I soon got into our horseless carriage, foregoing the usual riding goggles. Father’s automaton, Hack, drove us across town to the state capitol. Father and I were supposed to live there, but we preferred the house where we’d been all my life. Mother’s memory was there. She died of cholera just before my eleventh birthday, two years before Father became governor. Father could potentially remain in office for years, and we didn’t want to leave Mother behind. * * * * The sun set as we arrived at the grand capitol building. A slew of other carriages, horses, people, and automatons crowded the front entrance. I didn’t think too often about the privileges of being the governor’s daughter, but in this case, we were spared the crowds and entered the building through a back door. Inside the spacious ballroom, I spotted Two-Spirit and his father, Eagle Eye, sitting at the head table. I passed many other tables to join them, swishing my skirt. Our table seated twenty people, and was filled with other office-holders. Two chairs remained empty; one for my Father, the other for our guest of honor. “You look delighted to be here,” I said, attempting a British accent. “Overjoyed.” If Two-Spirit was disappointed his night was ruined, he hid it well. He wore healer’s robes and his hair looked beautiful, adorned with feathers and beads. For several minutes Two-Spirit and I chatted in Lenapé while the room filled with local leaders. Father circled the room, shaking hands. Suddenly Mr. Pickett appeared at the door, and the entire room hushed. I looked closer and realized it wasn’t really Mr. Pickett, but someone who looked remarkably similar, right down to the eyeglass and hat. “Ah,” Father said. “I am Governor John Corn. Please, be seated at our head table.” The man frowned. “This is all very unorthodox. Is there no one here to announce me?” For once, my father looked flustered. “Why, we all know who you are. But if custom dictates…ladies and gentlemen, may I announce the emissary for Queen Victoria, Sir Joseph Pickett.” I smirked at Two-Spirit. This man didn’t look like a knight one whit. He was surely related to our loveable Mr. Pickett, though. As he moved into the room, I gasped. Several African people followed. Though dressed exquisitely, it was plain as day they were slaves. I lowered my gaze in shame. My ancestors were responsible for trying to bring this way of life to America, but we had overthrown it. How dare this man shove his immorality in our faces? When I looked up again, I lost my breath. The slaves were following the man to our table. They were male and female, and one of the girls looked about my age. I caught her eye, and thought I could happily drown inside it. Her eyes were rich brown, her braided hair adorned with flowers, her dress every bit as fancy and uncomfortable as mine. The slaves stood behind Sir Pickett as he took his seat. I stood immediately and held my arm out to the beautiful girl. “You can sit here, if you’d like.” The room grew still. I could hear horses whinnying outside. But then everyone else at our table stood, too. I smiled at the beautiful girl. She looked like a princess, not a slave. But she wouldn’t look at me. “What’s this nonsense?” Sir Pickett snarled. Automatons appeared carrying trays of food and beverages, aware of nothing but their programming. The slaves rushed to help. I clenched my fists and fought tears. How could people be made to work like machines? “Sir, we do not subscribe to your belief system,” Father said. “If you do not wish to let those who accompanied you sit, then none of us will sit, either.” My heart swelled with joy as everyone else in the room stood. Only Sir Pickett was left. “I have a message to deliver.” He waved away food and wine brought over by one of the male slaves and unfolded a parchment from his pocket. “Citizens of the United States of America, Queen Victoria has decreed she will rectify the mistakes of her forefathers.” Two-Spirit and I exchanged skeptical glances. Sir Pickett continued, still seated. “The colonies desired independence two generations ago, and now this so-called nation has become a quagmire of heathen immorality. The Queen wishes to offer a treaty to usher the United States once again into a glorious future. You shall be partnered with Great Britain, your rightful ruler, and reinstate the relationship of colonies and home country.” Father raised his head and stepped closer. “We will never make such a pact. Are you going round to all the states with this nonsense? Are you going to make these claims to President Running Water’s face? Why did you come here first instead of our nation’s capital?” Sir Pickett folded his parchment. “I’m going to speak to all the major leaders on the coast, including your president in New York City. But if he does not agree to this treaty, the Queen will regard his refusal as an act of war and we will claim our colonies back.” With that, he snapped his fingers for wine. I had never heard such an uproar in my life. My own father shook his fist in Sir Pickett’s face. The room exploded with shouts and screams. In the tumult, I gripped Two-Spirit’s hand and backed away, ducking through the crowds of angry men and women. I caught one last glimpse of the beautiful girl before we slipped out of the room. “We must do something,” Two-Spirit said. “I know. This is an outrage. And Mr. Pickett…he’s been a spy all along. His plans got thrown for a loop when my father won election three years ago instead of him, though. His brother arriving here first is no accident. He means to subdue us and build an army here.” “You’ve read too many of your father’s novels, but you’re probably right.” We ran to my father’s horseless carriage as I fought panic. I pulled a punch card out of the driver’s compartment and inserted it into the automaton driver’s boxy head. “Hack will take you to the longhouse communities. You can warn everyone there.” I opened another compartment and pulled out my father’s radio communicators. “I’m going to check out Sir Pickett’s ship and see if I can’t find a way to stop this before it starts. I’ll keep in contact with you.” “What are you possibly going to do alone out there?” Two-Spirit asked. “I don’t know, but I want to find that fink Mr. Pickett. I know I can make him talk. If that doesn’t work, I’ll sneak on board Sir Pickett’s ship and steer it into the rocks.” Two-Spirit laughed. “Then we’ll just send a message to Britain saying, ‘Sorry, but I’ve decided I like it here. Love, Sir Pickett.’” I smiled. “If we take out the ship, our problems will be solved. Sir Pickett could be lying, too. How are we supposed to know if he really had a message from the Queen or if he and his brother just want to try to rule America?” “You’re right. I’ll let the elders, healers, and shamans know what happened. They’ll be able to tell me if it’s likely this whole story is even true, and what else we could do to stop this. But maybe you shouldn’t act until I have a chance to talk to the others first. You know they’ll want to gather in the Council House and seek visions before we do anything. The blood of the young warrior is hot, and the guidance of elders can help make our actions most effective.” I bit my lip. “Well, maybe you’re right. I’ll go to the harbor to see what we’re up against. Then I’ll radio, and the elders can advise us from there.” Cursing my dress’s lack of pockets, I shoved my communicator down the front of my dress. “Wait,” Two-Spirit said. He slipped off his moccasins and handed them to me. “In case you need to run.” I sighed in relief and unfastened my oppressive heels. I couldn’t help but giggle as Two-Spirit put them on his own feet. “May the spirits walk with you…or ride.” I toggled a switch on Hack’s chest and the carriage chugged away, emitting puffs of steam. Taking a deep breath, I turned and ran down the cobblestone streets. The harbor wasn’t too far away, but moccasins made the trip much easier. A cool spring breeze blew my curls as I gathered up my skirt and dodged the surprising amount of people and carriages on the roads at this hour. People were shouting and waving their arms—word must be spreading about the Queen’s decree. * * * * Things quieted as I neared the harbor. I slunk through an alley and stopped in the shadows near the end. Ahead, gas lights illuminated a wooden pier and the black, choppy ocean. There amongst the regular fishing boats was a massive ship displaying the British colors. A row of rifle-wielding redcoats stood guard on the shoreline. I reckoned I would be able to sneak past them if I had to. Crashing the ship might not end all our problems, but it would still be fun. Then the distant lighthouse beam swooped round, and I gasped. An armada of warships loomed on the horizon. I ducked farther into the shadows and reached for my communicator. Before I could pull the radio out, loud thumps caused the blood to run backward to my heart. I tried to blend into the brick wall of the nearest building, sweat popping out on my face, as more bumps and scrapes sounded on the adjoining street. I saw a shadowy figure attempting to carry two enormous bundles. As the figure emerged into a pale streetlight, I jumped out of the shadows. It was the beautiful girl from before. I adjusted my dress and tried to walk elegantly towards her. But even in moccasins I wasn’t good at that, so instead I strode over. “Allow me to help you.” I grabbed one of the bundles, a luggage bag, before the girl could do anything but widen her eyes. “My name is Amelia Corn. I’m the governor’s daughter.” For a second, I thought she would refuse to speak. Then her look of shock faded. “I’m Nadine Pickett, and Sir Pickett is my master.” Her British accent sounded musical to me. I gripped the heavy bag in both hands and we walked out of the direct light, but made no move toward the ship. “A governor’s daughter,” Nadine said. “Are you similar to a princess, then?” I felt a blush creep over my cheeks. “No, it doesn’t work like that here. Why are you carrying such a heavy burden?” “Sir Pickett was going to sleep in the capitol’s rooms, but after…after the bedlam, he’s decided to remain on his ship.” I glanced over at the soldiers. None had taken any notice of us yet, but surely I couldn’t just stand here chatting with Nadine all night long. It might be nice if I could, though. I leaned closer to her. Even in the dim moonlight, her eyes were intoxicating, and she smelled like jasmine and lilac. Her skin was so rich and dark—I wanted to run my fingers across her jutting collar bone but forced myself to focus. “We can end this,” I whispered. She drew back. “How?” “My friend Two-Spirit is the shaman’s son, and a healer. He’s telling the rest of the community what’s going on. We can have warriors here at dawn to destroy all these ships. But we’re going to need help. Do you think you could get your fellow bondsmen involved in some sabotage? You could all be free here.” Now it was Nadine who leaned closer to me. “Free?” I nodded, heart pounding. Nadine’s breasts had already been pushed up to the limit of comfort in her corset, as was custom both here and across the ocean. When she leaned forward, the beautiful dark flesh pushed out from her dress even farther. I couldn’t help but imagine what their lower halves must look like, but once again, I snapped myself back into reality. “If you can convince the people who are forced to mind the warships to let them drift closer to the harbor through the night,” I explained, “and if they will abandon ship at dawn, we’ll take care of the rest.” “Who goes there?” a British soldier shouted. Nadine slipped a hand over mind and I gasped, but she grabbed the heavy luggage from me and picked both bags up with an ease she hadn’t shown before. “’Til dawn,” she said, and hurried away. When she was gone, I pulled out my radio. Two-Spirit sent Hack back to get me, and I rode to the longhouse communities. Two-Spirit had gathered the elders together, and we were soon joined by our fathers and the other local leaders who had attended the disastrous dinner at the capitol building. Together, we worked all night on a strategy for ridding ourselves of this threat to our way of life. * * * * As the inky night sky faded to navy blue, Two-Spirit and I led a group of moccasin-footed warriors through the outlying fields and trees of Lewes to a different shoreline from the one I’d visited the night before. Right behind us was Strong Arrow, an eighteen-year-old with whom I’d seen Two-Spirit exchange many kisses. Strong Arrow had a black Mohawk. He was one of our fiercest men, and already covered in tattoos despite his young age. I breathed faster as we crouched near the edge of the forest. I’d pulled my hair back into a braid once again, and after walking just a few feet through the thick forest, I shed the oppressive dress in favor of my scant leather underclothes. Two-Spirit wore only a simple pair of breeches. Tattoos covered his chest and arms, and his face was painted in red stripes. As a healer, he wasn’t required or expected to know the ways of the fighter, but he enjoyed it all the same, and was one of the few people of his stature to qualify as both. The other warriors were other Natives around our age and fighters of other ethnicities, though I was the only paleface girl around who had undergone warrior training. We all carried longbows and had full quivers of arrows slung over our shoulders. Leather bags stuffed with rags hung from our black war belts, along with small wooden jugs of oil. A bare patch of land stretched past the trees in which we were concealed and overlooked a rocky cliff. We could see Sir Pickett’s ship to the south, surrounded by fishing boats. Two-Spirit and I knelt behind a log; he signaled to the others, and everyone fanned out on either side of us to hide behind trees, bushes, and large rocks. I signaled to Two-Spirit. “Over the water.” The armada had moved much closer, almost in range of our arrows. Nadine had done well. I felt like I was on a hunt. We sat as silent and stiff as stones. The gigantic ships moved almost imperceptibly, much like the moon, as time passed. My legs were numb, and my back itched from sweat trickling over my shoulder blades. Two-Spirit looked as though he were meditating. I should have been doing so, as well, preparing for battle. But all I could think about was Nadine. I’d fancied many a girl before, but none had ever captivated me so fiercely. I hoped she was all right and wondered if she had been treated poorly. I imagined somehow that I would have to personally rescue her from the clutches of Sir Pickett. She was probably very valuable to him, and he wouldn’t want to let her go. But I could see the perfect path down the rocky cliffside in case I needed to run to the harbor and rescue Nadine from Sir Pickett’s clutches myself. I could use an arrow to take him out from a distance, but if he made the mistake of putting his hands on her, I had a flint knife, as well. Nadine would be so grateful to me, and happy to be free. She’d turn her beautiful eyes my way, and the scent of jasmine and lilac would grow stronger as I wrapped my arms around her. I wanted to caress her cheek and kiss her lightly at first, and I wondered in what way she might like to touch me. A warm feeling spread throughout my body. I tensed my muscles and forced myself to concentrate. The birds were awake now, their songs filling the air. Once the sky turned a pale pink and orange which reflected off the ocean, the armada was within range. I squinted and turned to the harbor. Still we waited. As the sun’s tip peeked over the ocean water, the first signal came: the lighthouse beam turned off. A militia of automatons swarmed onto the pier and harbor. Some carried rifles, others pistols, and I even saw cannon rolling along. A gleaming cavalry of mechanical horses appeared next, gun barrels sticking from their broad chests as they stepped slowly to avoid clanking too much in the morning silence. Two-Spirit and I stood, and soft rustles all around let us know the other warriors did the same. We pulled out our arrows and wrapped the tips in the rags. One by one we dipped the arrowheads in oil and placed them on the ground by our side. Two-Spirit looked at me solemnly and nodded. “May the spirits guide you.” I nodded, licking dry lips. As we nocked arrows on our longbows, one of the young warriors-in-training appeared, his shaved head glistening with sweat. He spiked a torch into the ground and lit it with a match, leaving us with eternal flames at the ready. He ran off to assist others and I took careful aim at the nearest warship. And now the final signal to those onboard. The town’s fire siren screamed. Simultaneously, cannon were shoved through the gunwales of the British ships into the ocean, followed by hundreds of slaves jumping overboard. In the confusion, before the British soldiers had time to fire what weapons were left to them, our automatons let loose with guns and cannonballs. I cringed as the foremost ship aimed a gigantic gun barrel from the bow towards the harbor. But suddenly the whole front end of that ship exploded. “They sabotaged those guns, too!” Every nerve in my body tingled with excitement. I dipped my arrowhead in the torch flame and let it fly. Several others followed, making direct hits onto the warships. Again and again we fired. The younger warriors were ready with new arrows when ours ran out. When there were no arrows left, they whittled sticks into spears with their flint knives, and we fired those. Within minutes all the ships were aflame, including Sir Pickett’s and some of the unfortunate fishing boats. When the rags were used up, we dipped our arrowheads or spear-tips into oil-soaked moss and lit those ablaze. The Africans swam or rowed to our shoreline, some having managed to commandeer lifeboats. They clambered up the rocky cliff. Some took up weapons while others rushed past us to the safety of the trees. I exclaimed in delight as Sir Pickett’s ship took one last cannon blast and exploded into smithereens. The other ships were sinking, engulfed in flames and smoke. Grimly, the warriors and I picked off British soldiers in the water with fireless arrows, except for those few who waved white handkerchiefs over their heads. * * * * By noon, it was all over. Smoky and sweaty, Two-Spirit and I walked through the trees to the harbor. There were no cheers; even killing such evil people as these was not cause for celebration. But seeing the happy, freed people was. Other warriors emerged from their hiding places. Most of them were older than we were, and wore either traditional wooden war helmets or headbands with red turkey feathers. Some also carried large, painted, wooden clubs and rectangular moose-hide shields. I shuddered to think some of them had been close enough to the enemy in battle to use clubs. But many of the warriors appeared to have fought with arrows, as we did, or with rifles. Automatons were hurriedly reprogrammed. The freed Africans and British turncoats were welcomed by my father and offered new clothes. Father took one look at my half-naked body and practically dressed me himself in a loose-fitting deerskin shirt and breeches. I hadn’t even caught my breath when the street party started. Mechanical vendors appeared with food and drinks. A human band materialized on the pier and struck up a tune. Dancing lasted until nightfall. It seemed I’d talked to everyone in town twice…except the one I wanted to speak with most. Once in a while I saw her, surrounded by admirers. Father had given her much credit for organizing the Africans’ (now Americans’) role in the rebellion. Two-Spirit and I were also congratulated, but finally everyone had gotten their fill, and I was able to have a moment alone. I watched Two-Spirit and Strong Arrow dance together for a while, their tattooed chests still bare. I rather liked the way I smelled of smoke, fire, and victory. I laughed as Two-Spirit and his lover jigged boisterously, knocking hats off gentleman and winking lewdly at ladies. When a slower song began, they grew more serious. As they caressed each other and kissed, I walked away, feeling unaccountably melancholy. Then I saw Nadine. She sat alone on a wooden barrel out front of the General Store. Her hair was braided the same as the night before, minus the flowers. She still looked like royalty, even in flat leather shoes, knee-high black and gray striped stockings, a short, black, ruffled skirt, and a gray, sleeveless shirt. I broke away from the crowds to join her, but at first she wouldn’t speak to me. “What’s wrong?” “Everyone keeps telling me what I did was heroic. But some of our people died today. If I’d really done something special, we wouldn’t have lost any lives.” Impulsively I gripped her hands in mine. “I wish none had died. But you really were amazing. We defeated Sir Pickett, and we’ll continue to fight any who dare follow in his footsteps. Nadine…believe me when I say we could not have done any of this without you.” Her hands squirmed and I loosened my hold, heart sinking though I was quite used to the fact that most girls did not have the same feelings as I. But instead of pulling away, Nadine interlocked her fingers with mine. My breath quickened, and the things I’d imagined earlier in the forest seemed less like silly fantasy and more like blissful reality. “Thank you for seeing something in me which many people don’t see,” she said. I steeled my courage and leaned closer. “If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to tell you more about the good things I see when I look at you.” As the moon shone overhead and music surrounded us, I smiled at my princess, and she smiled back at me.