by Les W Kuzyk
Tribe 5 Girl
by Les W Kuzyk
Thanks to my daughter Lana Kuzyk for the cover art.
Copyright 2014 Les W Kuzyk
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Tribe 5 Girl
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Tribe 5 Girl
“Watch what this little one does.” Annalise gestured towards the hologram floating above the end of the meeting room table. Before their eyes two aggressive mini-drones manoeuvred around each other, sizing up weaponry. She watched the faces for reactions when a small girl jumped in, stopping directly between, a hand raised towards each.
“Ignoring self-preservation,” Annalise stated, “Kiki positions herself to negotiate. She now has the full attention of both remote pilots.” As they listened, the girl in a firm voice instructed each pilot to talk, taking turns. From her PhD research Annalise knew that Kiki spontaneously set conditions without any instruction. This T5 voice allowed both parties to get what they needed without any hitting, or in this case weapons discharge.
“We need to seriously consider this proposal,” Julia told the other Councillors.
Marta, who was chairing, crumpled her screen and sat back. A sign Annalise knew meant she had lots to say. Their One Valley home security was not a joke, with so many climate refugees, so many movers pushing north. Dark dreams of desperate hordes kept Annalise awake at night while she knew all wasn’t right. There shouldn’t be an emptying California surging in their direction but there was, leaving the threat of total invasion hanging out in a storm.
Annalise pressed at the tiny creases in her suit jacket, as she judged the tone of the meeting. She had braided her long brown hair that morning and fastened it up into a tight bundle swirl on top. Light makeup added to her natural look.
“As one of the five-to-seven-year-old girls, Kiki’s tribal cohort coded as the most community oriented,” Annalise emphasized. “What I’m proposing here is a two-pronged approach. First, we use the tribe 5 mindset loaded in surveillance drones as our first engagement with movers. And second, we make this response package available as an advisor to each of you Valley Councillors.” While only two percent of the broader population fit into this T5 level from tribal analysis studies, an amazing twenty-three percent fit at Kiki’s age and gender. Annalise was proposing the voice of psychologically type-selected girls to be the official voice of both defence and Council advisor.
Annalise had taken a chance when she selected Community Security for her dissertation research. God, not the risk of a generation ago. In her father’s time, that would have meant risking her professional career choice. In her lifetime community security wasn’t so much about protecting the rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Having a life was a lot more about not being dead. And she had her father to consider and any future family of her own. Meanwhile, the Pacific NW needed to risk dropping the archaic shoot to kill mentality. Wrap strapping had to go too and not just due to bears and cougars. On patrol she had twice witnessed the inhumanity of a drone incapacitated person and she could just imagine being strapped. Their valley cultural model had to survive and do that by growing up.
At twenty seven and after years of study she knew the science. But her supervising professor kept saying her challenge was messaging to everyday people. Data existed—thousands of girls in multicultural cohorts had logged responses to typical human situations. The fearless six-year-old female cohort came to be known as Kiki’s group. Yet, with all the extra potential the feminine outlook had on community decisions, the challenge remained of getting authorities to listen to this young girl voice. In spite of all the analytics showing a reduced fear factor, who would submit to the directives of a kindergarten girl?
She held her breath until she could hear her heart beat inside her ears. If home Council rejected her, well, there was that lakeside community in Idaho. But her home valley had such potential and she knew the people here! No one moved if they didn’t have to—way too risky. She had to make a hero out of this little girl mindset, this digital composite of the girls who came together as Kiki. She exhaled slowly. She knew much depended on perception. Of her model, of her and what she said. Or didn’t say.
Although they inherited this chaotic social environment from those ignoring climate warnings a few saw the situation as opportunity. Annalise had high hopes of carrying on the struggle for brotherly love, always feeling her heart soar with that T5 life is great outlook. The trick now was to hold out a friendly hand without being stomped on or conquered or raided and raped. Destruction and assimilation back into the older ways that had caused this mess in the first place was not an option. Most movers, she emphasized, though in the degraded state of refugees, still pursued the inherent human desire for a better life.
This topic was not new to Council. In a region least devastated by a planet in the throes of accelerating adaptation to new normal climate, they had to respond to cultural ambience knocking on their valley door. She was offering Council a way to peacefully engage movers. No bullets, no wrap straps.
“Nothing but child talk,” Marta voiced the expected pushback. “With no experience, no education, she offers nothing but naivety. Childish foolishness explains her action.”
Some Councillors, many men, nodded. Others remained silent.
Anthony coughed. “A strong defense comes from good offense,” he intoned. “We automate ground weaponry at well-marked border points. True some will die, but the message will be clear and consistent. If no one enters our valley we retain our homeland security.”
Many in Kiki’s group coaxed to respond would immediately sense Boys would do that. Data trends reveled most but not all boys would, some girls would too—all depended on tribal outlook. As people see the world—so they behave. This girl cohort typically responded to imminent conflict saying: Let’s try to make friends. A more advanced might phrase it, Welcome to our garden. Consensus revolved around cooperation; Our sandbox, ours together. Many girls, the future thinkers, wondered: How will this make our tomorrow? Sexist though it may seem, Annalise knew from her graduate study boys and girls were measurably different.
“An improved model of civilization, I’m quoting our prime directive,” Julia spoke. “Would killing for nothing but survival be acceptable to keep our model alive? Or does that destroy what makes us better?” Julia had grown up in Switzerland.
Anthony shook his head and spoke in even tones. “To lay down all arms would be an ideologically based decision. To put it in a polite nutshell, foolish.”
Annalise, feeling a tremor rise within, recalled that prime directive established but a decade ago when the Pacific NW region first gained official recognition. These days their valley contested with other regional communities to create a desired model of civilization replicable planet wide as that old save the world expression merged with the times. Reality required they avoid hostile invasion. Disruption of their model would just as effectively destroy any chance of success. A massive incursion by movers in the take-anything-mindset would be devastating.
With not just her life, but the existence of her home valley at risk, Annalise needed focus on her proposal’s acceptance. Not in a theory but in the real world.
