On the 200th Anniversary of the Founding of Venice
The following manuscript was given to
me by a rather odd-looking person I met at Abbot’s Habit recently. He
claimed to be a time traveler from the future, who wished to remain anonymous. I
don’t know whether his account of these events 102 years in the future is
accurate or not. But, he was honest enough to admit the Beachhead Collective had
rejected his article when he submitted it in 2110. – Jim
Smith
The Abbot of Venice took a long sip of her
cappuccino, and sighed. This would be the longest day of her life, thought
Shelly Cabrera. Not only was it the 200th anniversary of the founding of Venice,
but the Doge of Venice - that one on the Italian peninsula - was in town, and
she was expected to make a momentous political decision. And it had only been a
year ago that her party, the Dolphins, won a majority in the Venice Assembly and
installed her as Abbot. Now she had to fill the shoes of a Venice icon, the late
Bill Sawyer of the Justice Party.
She
looked out at the surf from her third floor apartment where the Grand Canal
entered the Bay. They called it Brooks Avenue in the old days, she mused. Then,
right on time, Chester Sims walked in with the day’s itinerary. “How
did you sleep, dear Abbot?” he purred. “Chester, no amount of small
talk is going to soften the blow of this day. Let’s get to it.”
Then, feeling a little guilty for jumping on her secretary, Shelly added,
“I’m fine. How are
you?”
“I’m wonderful
as usual, considering I had to lug all these paper up three flights of stairs.
The elevator’s not working again,” he moaned. “And you should
be feeling good. Your friend Marco, the Doge is
coming.”
“There’s nothing
between Marco and I, Chester. It’s just politics,” retorted Shelly.
“As you like it,” said
Chester. “It’s just that we Venetians love to gossip. Oh, yes, and
you had a few visitors
downstairs.”
“I hope you
told them this was a holiday,” Shelly asked hopefully. “I
did,” Chester responded. “There was a delegation demanding better
conditions in the slums down on the Strand. They’ll be back tomorrow. But
your Justice Party friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’s
still waiting.”
“Why does
Christina Li have to torment me today?” Shelly asked no one in particular.
“Oh well, show her in, please.”
“Christina, how nice of you to
visit.” The words were hardly out of the Abbot’s mouth when her
sometimes friend and elder roared her disapproval at having to use the freight
elevator. “Do you know that there are laws, Shelly, laws to protect those
of us who cannot walk? When are you going to fix that
thing?”
Shelly seems to be
whispering in response, “Christina, unless you’ve come to make a
citizen’s arrest, tell me what you want. I’ve got a million things
to do today.”
“Yes, I
know, Shelly. Bill Sawyer told me a thousand times that it’s not easy
being Abbot of Venice. I just want to make sure that you use this celebration to
announce the declaration of independence. You know that Bill worked all his life
for this day. What would he think if you passed up the chance of a lifetime? The
Doge is here and our “dear friend,” the California Prime Minister is
not. If you don’t act, we may be forced to call for a vote of confidence
in the Venice Assembly, and some of your Dolphin Party delegates may defect over
independence.”
“Christina,
stop.” Shelly interrupted. “First of all, Bill Sawyer is dead.
Bill’s will asked the Assembly to consider me, not you, to succeed him as
Abbot. The delegates agreed, and here we are. Besides, I haven’t decided
what I’m going to do. You know how I hate to make these kinds of
decisions.”
Shelly could see
Christina preparing for a long harangue, when Chester rushed in, exclaiming.
“Shelly dear, you’re going to miss your speech at the Pagan Parade.
It is the 4th of July, you know.”
“Chester, do I have to?
There’s so much to do today,” complained Shelly.
Chester made a face, “Now you
know you do. The Pagan Party holds the balance of power in the Assembly. If you
desert them at the parade they may desert you in the Assembly, Goddess forbid.
And, you know I’m a proud member,” smiled Chester. Shelly
surrendered, “All right. But I’m not going to wear that silly cape
with the moon and stars.”
Shelly
descended the stairs and caught the first municipal launch heading down the
Grand Canal. She arrived at the start of the parade - the old city hall museum -
to the cheers of the pagans. The short trip down the canal followed a diagonal
line of what was once called Abbot Kinney Blvd. in old Venice. That was before
the great subsidence.
In the
early morning hours of July 26, 2065, the residents of Venice were tossed from
their beds by one of the largest earthquakes ever to hit a populated area.
Because of the hour, only a few thousand people in the Los Angeles megalopolis
were killed. But then thousands more died in days of aftershocks nearly as large
as the first giant quake. Less than a week later, the first evidence of the
subsidence was discovered. Los Angeles was sinking. Not rapidly, but steadily.
The evacuation began in earnest. Most Angelenos trekked to the north, never to
return.
In the mass chaos, no one
outside of Venice noticed that their sandbar was not sinking. In Venice, the
evacuation was from the lower parts of the city to the sandbar that runs
parallel to the beach and rises a few feet above sea level. Others set up camps
on Mar Vista hill, which had seceded from Los Angeles and joined Venice a few
years ago.
Venice had finally restored
cityhood following the 2048 law passed by the United Nations General Assembly
that prohibited outside intervention in any people’s decision for
self-determination. Within a few weeks Venice voted for cityhood, and a few
months later, the nation of California came into being.
Meanwhile, on the Italian peninsula,
the Serene Republic of Venice was proclaimed. Later, under the leadership of
Marco Zitelli, it became a leader of the small nations caucus in the United
Nations. The small, but historic, country became a trading power by sending its
giant cargo airships throughout the world, when the petroleum crisis made jet
airplane freight prohibitedly
expensive.
In Venice, California, its
Abbot, Bill Sawyer, worked like a mad man, rallying Venetians to stay put. Those
who still had homes above water took in those who had become homeless. Boats
that broke loose from their moorings in the now submerged Marina were
commandeered to find food and fresh water to keep the bedraggled Venetians
alive. Sawyer seemed to be everywhere, using his great bulk to help Venetians
move their meager belongings to higher ground, or to upper floors of submerged
houses. “Now I know why I spent all those years pumping iron,”
Sawyer supposedly said after a particularly strenuous
day.
Sawyer knew that California was in
chaos, and couldn’t help. Although a great deal of aid poured in from
Pacifica in the north, the Rocky Mountain Alliance and Mexico, little of it
found its way to what had become the island of Venice. In recent years, the town
of Venice had established cordial relations with that other Venice, in Italy. In
desperation, Sawyer sent a plea to the first Venice asking it to remember its
stricken namesake. Three days later, when the situation was growing desperate
for the Venetians, and even Sawyer was almost without hope, the refugees raised
their eyes to see three giant red airships emblazoned with the Winged Lion of
Venice hovering overhead.
As every
school child knows, those airships bore food, medicine, earth moving equipment
and pylons upon which to base new buildings. Within days, canals were being dug
and the dirt and mud was piled up to create little islands surrounded by streets
of water. Before long, 30-foot steel pylons brought from Italy were driven into
the ground to make sturdy foundations for new buildings. Venice spread out,
incorporating the remnants of the Palisades and Ocean Park. But few of the
shell-shocked former residents of Los Angeles wanted to take a chance on living
on an island bordered by a new inland sea full of sunken buildings. Sawyer and a
few thousand hardy Venetians were left to build a new society, much to their own
choosing.
After the parade,
Shelley walked north on Ocean Front Walk from the Windward Plaza, past Jim
Morrison’s tomb. Workers were busily installing the loudspeakers and
holographic projectors that would carry tonight’s festivities -and her
talk - up and down the Ocean
Front.
Lost in thought about her big
speech, Shelly didn’t notice Chester rapidly bearing down on her.
“Shelley dear,” he said breathlessly. “The Doge is here. He
wants to see you.”
Ignoring his
impatience, Shelly mused, “You know Venice has changed so much, yet
somehow it remains the same. I wonder if someone from Abbot Kinney’s day
– or even John Haag’s day – would recognize the
place?””
“I’m
sure they would,” Chester responded, forgetting his mission to rush
Shelley back to the municipal hall. “You of all people should know that
Venice is magical,” he continued. “Time goes by, but the magic
remains. Why even the gods spared Venice during the great subsidence, he
exclaimed!”
Marco Zitelli, Doge
of Venice and the Lagoon, surprised Shelly as she entered the lobby. Instead of
an official handshake, Zitelli flung his arms around her and kissed her
passionately. Fortunately Chester had gone off to see if the elevator was fixed.
“I’ve missed you so much mio amore, Marco whispered.”
Shelly drew back in shock. “Now,
Marco. I told you that night in your Venice that we couldn’t continue our
romance. It’s
impossible.”
“Yes, yes, I
know. You have your Venice, and I have my Venice. But please humor my
fantasy,” he pleaded.
Just then Chester
returned with bad news. The elevator was still out of order. After an
embarrassing silence, Marco said excitedly, “Shelly, I saw you at the
parade when we were coming down the canal. You looked magnificent in that cape
with the moon and stars. How
daring!”
“Marco,”
Shelley changed the subject, “the Assembly has gathered to meet you. Would
you mind saying a few
words?”
Hours later, the
Ocean Front Walk was jammed in both directions with Venetians. It seemed that
the entire city of 125,000 had turned out to celebrate its 200th anniversary.
Venice musicians had been performing on nearly every block until the holographic
projectors flashed on, showing Abbot Shelley Cabrera approaching the podium on
the second floor terrace of the municipal
hall.
“My fellow Venetians, Doge
Zitelli, honored guests, it is my great pleasure to speak to you at the
beginning of the third century of our great and unique city. Venice is more than
buildings and canals. It is a state of mind. Throughout our history we have been
trying to define this state of mind, through poetry, painting, song, sculpture
and lifestyle. Even today, we do not have the words that describe exactly what
is Venice. But we will keep trying, and by so doing, create more and more
art.
“If you were not born in
Venice, you came here and went through a transformation that made you a
Venetian. It made you more thoughtful, more cordial, more excited by the small
pleasures of life. How could we better define the difference that being Venetian
makes than to listen once more to the words of our great, and sorely missed,
Abbot, Bill Sawyer.” He said: “Before I came to Venice, I would walk
down the street of some strange city and see fear in peoples’ eyes when
they saw me. Even 200 years after the end of slavery, I was not accepted. But
when I walk around Venice, people see me and grin....and I grin back. This is
truly my home!”
“Fellow
Venetians,” Shelley continued. “Today we are faced with a difficult
decision about our future. I have dreaded offering my opinion about our future
relationship with California and with the world. But walking around Venice
today, seeing thousands of you and talking with hundreds of my friends has given
me confidence that we are in a better position to determine our destiny than is
anyone else. Therefore, I have decided to call a special session of the Venice
Assembly to consider placing a referendum before our community. I am
recommending that the referendum declare our intention of joining the 500
sovereign and united nations of this planet. My fellow Venetians, Venice has
come of age.”
Suddenly Shelly
felt that yet another earthquake had come to strike her down at her moment of
decision. Then she realized that it was the deep roar of conga drums and
thousands of Venetians applauding her words. Shaken, she stepped back from the
podium and was quickly replaced by Venice’s finest salsa band. The party
of the century had begun.
Chester was
almost the last person to see Shelly that night. He glimpsed her and Marco
climbing the stairs to her third floor apartment. Then, he turned, yelled
“Viva Venice” at the top of his lungs and waded into the
celebration.
Posted: Tue - July 1, 2003 at 06:00 PM