It was hard to leave Sherwood with its children, culture, history, dancing, and cuisine. He wanted to stay a little longer, but he had an obligation to his followers. Marto peddled down a little way to the South and east toward his next destination. The streets became less improved as he went, and he had to carry the uni over washed out sections of crumbling, light gray asphalt. The place where he was headed was back in the direction of the Sound and away from the Merritt, but he felt it was important to make this detour.

Over a little hill, he saw before him the run-down town of Glenville. It had been hit hard by the hurricane. Trees were knocked down, homes lay broken. Most were broken years ago. He tensed when he saw a paltry group of inhabitants walking in his direction because he knew what was about to happen.

Against all odds, we live in what can only be described as a series of Utopias. Like Troy, we are under attack from those who cling desperately to the past, but we manage to hold back those onslaughts through our intimate embrace of technology and our Interconnection. Those of us in the greater tribes enjoy the best this society can offer. We are the Meritorious because it is in our nature, and because we are good at it. Not everyone is good at gifting. Few of us wonder about our lesser friends and neighbors who disappear overnight, unable to contribute enough to stay in our communal embrace.

When the first papers outlining the basis for a Merit economy were published by the Sunday Sunshine Klatsch over 80 years ago, critics derided them for embodying an idealistic form of egalitarianism. They called the writings 'naïve pablum,' the effect of which, if realized, would remove competition from the marketplace. The supporters of the papers, on the other hand, praised the Sunshine Klatsch for their innovative vision of an economy where value was based not on scarcity but on plenty, and which, if realized, would end all poverty.

They were both wrong. Now that the Sunshine Klatsch's ideas have borne fruit, there still remain winners and losers. Those who cannot keep up with the prospering generous do not merely evaporate as anyone in a position of privilege would dream, but soldier on as best they can in a lower realm.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 6, lines 139 to 141

Marto adjusted his personal algorithms to allow communication from the people of Glenville. Immediately, offers of all kinds, both unrealistic and heartbreakingly realistic, poured in. He had to refuse most of them, accepting only water and a place to rest. His trip today had not been tiring, and he didn't need rest, but he accepted it anyway.

There were families here. In his scan of the community, he could see there were parents and children, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. The less Merited clung to each other in the antiquated groupings of their predecessors. Likely, the structure for the shared raising of young couldn't work here due to the lack of sophisticated connection, or general willingness. They were getting by here, but with limited tech, limited resources, limited connection, and limited, but enduring hope.

["Some of us were aware you would be coming here,"] thexted Thomas Ng. ["my son has made a painting for you to take on your travels."] Thomas handed Marto a piece of blue paper with the image of a man on a unicycle. Marto accepted it and rated it highly. His father and mother Theresa hugged their son and beamed. Marto felt that he might cry. He had no way to carry it with him. He looked at Thomas standing with a hand on each of his son's shoulders, and the ground shifted under his feet.

• • •

Marto is looking at his father's face. His father has no beard, his chin is bare, and he is smiling. Over his eyes are light-colored tortoise shell glasses. In his hand, he holds a toy airplane. The airplane is flying. There are mountains in the background capped with snow. The sky is a deep clear blue.

Marto's father passes the airplane to Marto, and now Marto is flying the plane, over the mountains. They are standing on the wooden balcony of a multi-story home, high above the ground. Marto feels like he is in the airplane, sailing over the tops of the mountains. Happiness fills his chest. He drops the plane and jumps into his father's arms. His father spins around, and the world spins around Marto. They are both laughing.

• • •

["Are you all right Marto?"] he heard a voice. His eyes opened, and he saw the concerned faces of the Ng family. His followers chimed in with messages of concern. He waved his hands up as if to clear the noise, clear the air, and hands grabbed his, to pull him up.

["Yes, I'm sorry. That's the second time it has happened to me. I might be more tired than I thought. It's probably nothing."]

It was definitely not nothing. That man was the same one from his previous blackout, but this time he seemed younger and happier. In the vision, he knew the man to be his actual father. This didn't match the story he had always been told about his past. His father died before he was born. Someone had either lied to him or these visions were a trick. In either case, he didn't have time to work it out. His mission was to shine a light on the less Merited people of Glenville. He straightened and tried to put on a neutral face.

["It's not nothing Marto,"] Dizzy thexted from Reverside, mirroring his own thoughts. ["You passed out again. You dropped right off the network. You were gone for almost a minute."]

["Do you need to lie down?"] Theresa Ng thexted. ["You can come inside and rest a bit before we show you around our town."]

["No, I'm fine,"] Marto lied. ["I just need to stand still for a little while and get my bearings again. I want to see more of your community now if you don't mind."]

The town had a view of the ruined shoreline. The tops of taller buildings stuck out of the surf past a gradual slope leading to the water's edge. Back toward him from the water, there were gardens, dogs, chickens, and sheep. The animals were unaugmented, the gardens exposed to the elements. Though the crops had been ravaged by the storm, the farming looked successful. These people were not starving. That was something.

["Have you been to Sherwood?"] asked Drocilla « Terri « Mimi « Joyce « etc ["I used to live there a while back. It was wonderful."]

["Yes, I've just come from there."]

["How did they manage in the storm?"] Drocilla shifted anxiously on her feet.

["Oh, they did all right, some minor damage, but nothing which can't be fixed."]

["That's good,"] she responded, pausing and then, ["I lost my home last night. Most of us stayed in the old high school. It was a bad storm. We could hear the power of it. It was frightening."]

["Now Drocilla,"] broke in Gerald « Lachme « Yeshe « Hester « etc, ["Don't trouble him with our petty issues. Can we get you anything to eat?"]

["No thank you, I ate before I left,"] thexted Marto. ["I'm fine."]

Theresa Ng looked at him sideways but said nothing.

["Who are these people?"] Chimed in Marto's follower, Nazboy2060 from Montpelier. ["They don't seem to be in Flow. Parents hoarding their children from the tribe? That's not right. Their community is a mess."]

["I recognize a couple of them,"] responded Robin « Marian « Johnatha « Roberta « etc, ["two of them at least. They used to be part of Sherwood. Now I guess they are outliers?"]

More of Marto's followers began discussing the sad state of affairs in Glenville. There were criticisms of the townspeople coming in. They blamed them for the run down condition of their town. Others chided those critics for their attitude. They didn't know about these people because they had either consciously forgotten them, or blocked all augments below a certain threshold of Merit. Marto let the conversation build. He was uneasy and knew this leg of his tour might cause him to lose some followers, but he had come here to deepen the scope of his tour. He had faith that in the end, it would be a net gain. He only hoped he had not come to an outlier town too soon.

["Thank you so much for visiting us, Marto,"] thexted Lauren « Halley « Marissa « Betsy « etc. She stood before him, an older woman with an air of authority about her. ["Many of us here are avid followers of your work. We admire your writing and reporting."] Marto rarely thought of himself as a reporter, but he entertained the idea and found it appealing. ["Our way of life here is different from the one you are accustomed to, I imagine. I invite you to look around and get to know us."]

["How do you manage your water supply?"] Marto asked. Part of his reason was selfish. He wanted to know what he was drinking.

["We have older generation humidity collectors, and a solar desalination generator connected to pumps which store the water uphill from here. The storage containers are enclosed. The water you are drinking, however, is direct from the collector with trace minerals added. It's pure, have no doubt."]

["Thank you,"] replied Marto. He was embarrassed about the selfish aspect of his query, which was so quickly sussed by Lauren. He changed the subject. ["I notice you have families living together here in Glenville."]

["Yes, some of our members are former inhabitants of other tribal communities who couldn't share their children with the tribe. We allow direct lineage parenting here. We also adopt children who are lost or cast out."]

["Cast out?"] Marto was incredulous. ["Do you mean from tribes like Sherwood?"] This was unimaginable. ["Does that really happen?"]

["In a way, yes. We have no hard evidence of children being left outside the walls, but passively the effect is the same. Some children never adapt to being so closely connected and monitored. Some children have social bonding issues. Some miss parents, who couldn't maintain their position in the tribe. They run away as soon as they are old enough."]

["This is awful,"] replied Marto. ["This is frankly astonishing. So you are saying some children don't adjust to our ways even when they are raised in them? And the tribes just let them disappear without looking for them? They forget them? If this is true, the tribes would bear major responsibility. I've never heard of this before, but it is worth checking out."] Marto walked a bit in silence as he let it all sink in. His followers were chatting like mad, most in flat denial, others calling for verification. Still more were open to the truth of it and called on an audit of their tribe's child care records. Marto dimmed the discussion to focus on his surroundings.

They were walking on old crumbled roads, toward the center of the town. A large group of people was waiting there. He could see the very young and the very old, wearing handmade clothes, a group of people carried shovels and hoes. They must have been working on the damaged crops. Marto's unicycle tagged along behind him a few paces. He was glad he had charged it back in Sherwood. He didn't know how much power this town was generating, and he didn't want to take any away, even if it was offered.

["Story man!"] A girl with short dark hair, maybe eight or nine approached. ["Will you lead a story tonight?"] Marto recognized her from Sherwood. She had been there during a previous visit. She had bright eyes and was smiling up at him. Behind her were other children, about her age, watching them.

["Of course I will,"] replied Marto. ["I would be happy to. You remember me? Were you there six years ago in Sherwood when I led a story before?"]

["Yes, I was only three then, but I remember. It made me happy. I told my friends about you."]

["Did you leave Sherwood afterward?"]

["Yes. I didn't like it there. It was too quiet. I didn't like the games the others played. I missed my mama. She had to leave before you came."]

["Did the people in the tribe force you to go?"]

["No, I sneaked away at night. I had to turn off my thinking so no one would notice. A storm had broken part of the wall. I got out that way. I walked around in the darkness, but I wasn't scared. I found my mama with my thinking and she came and got me."]

["I can't see your name, can you share it with me?"] Marto was used to being able to find the name of a person via thext, but the girl was not sharing it.

["Yes. I'm Maria. My mama is Susan Lamartine."]

Marto was caught short. This girl was a likely descendant of Martina, who founded Sherwood. Her mother had been unable to stay in the community. This was a sad shock. Marto had been researching this girl's great or great-great grandmother, highlighting her as a nexus of tribal life, and here was her progeny, outside the walls.

["This can't be right,"] posted Titus from Murray Hill ["She and her mother should be part of Sherwood."]

["She wanted to leave. I don't see what is wrong with that. We cannot hold onto members who don't want to stay with us,"] responded Nikki from T-Neck.

["She was only three when she left"] replied Dizzy from Reverside. ["Couldn't the tribe have noticed she was unhappy and done more to include her?"]

["She's referring to her patrilineal lineage, and not listing her foremothers,"] rebuffed Langfeld of Ogunquit, ["Her mother may have taken the father's name. It is possible she isn't a direct descendant. We need to know more. Researching."]

There were more responses and queries. It was determined that Susan, her mother, was, in fact, Susan « Brenda « Shakita « Martina « etc, a direct great-granddaughter of the founder of Sherwood. There were seven siblings and cousins total, and Susan was the only one living in an outlier community. Two were in tribes other than Sherwood. The girl's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all taken the founder's name.

Marto greeted the group of kids, many in thext, and some verbally. It was hard getting used to the ways of these outliers, but he was getting the hang of it. The community was not as depressed as he had first thought, but their limited means concerned him, as it did a growing number of his followers.

In the center of Glenville, there was a common square. It must have been a park or town green from before The Tide. There was an old stone bandstand, tables, a fire pit and other wooden structures forming what looked like shops around the edges. A few had minor storm damage, but the majority were intact. Marto settled in at one of the tables, and the town crowded around him, asking questions about his tour so far.

["I have only been out for two days now. You are my second stop,"] this was obvious to those who had been following his tour from the start. To others, it was a flattering surprise.

["Where is your pack? Don't you travel with food, water, or a tent?"] asked Donald « Martika « Beylea « Odessa « etc. He was older, in his seventies, maybe. He would have been young when the pandemics, tides, and depression were at their worst. He had white, tight wiry hair around the fringes of his head. He looked strong for his age. His arms were bare and they were dark and hardened.

["No need for one,"] replied Marto ["My gifts are my writings, my perspective, and my shared travels. I am offered whatever I need along the way."]

["Isn't it risky?"]

["Not when you live in Flow."]

["What do you mean by Flow?"]

["Flow is an easy state of giving and receiving,"] Marto said, sounding to himself like a corny lecturer from an old web-vid. ["It is a word you can apply to either an individual or a community."] Marto offered references for the community members who could receive rich-thext. ["I am fortunate my talents as a writer and observer are in great demand among a great number of the Interconnected. I offer my experience and perspective to my followers as I write and travel, and gain Merit in that way. Others gain Merit by supplying me with things they know I want by checking on my habits and preferences. I rate their gifts and in that way, their wants are more likely to be met with offers as their Merit grows. It's a flow of desire and fulfillment."]

["I think we all know the basics of the new economy,"] retorted Lily « Mia « Zoë « Ava « Aurelia « etc, a woman of similar age to Donald, with straight white hair and missing teeth, ["but that does clarify it a bit more. I wish there was a way to learn how to be 'in Flow.' I struggle with it. Like, I always assumed when you 'gift,' you should get something in return, right?"]

["Actually no,"] Marto replied, amazed at how this misunderstanding could still persist. ["You expect nothing in return for your gifts. That is what makes them gifts. It is easy to fall back into the failed ways of the past when you think along those lines. This used to be known as quid pro quo. What we do in Flow is quid pro nihilo – something for nothing."]

["But you do expect to get Merit."]

["Gain Merit. Yes, we hope to."]

["But isn't that something?"]

["I suppose you could look at it that way, but you would be missing the point. There is no negotiation for Merit. It's not something you hoard and spend like people used to with money. It's an attribute – part of your public persona. If I accept something from you – no, let's say if you accept something from me, your Merit does not go down for accepting it. You are not giving away your Merit to get something. Merit isn't something you have, it's part of who you are. You see?"]

["Not really, It seems like Merit is just a different kind of money. If you have it, you get things, if you don't you can't have them. You say it becomes an attribute...? It just sounds like the old aristocracy to me."] Her feet were planted, her expression hard. She seemed willing to learn about this but was blocked by the habits of her way of thinking. This was true of many of her generation. Unable to shift away from accumulation and exchange and toward the more open fluid reality of gifting, they suffered in the new world.

["Well, things themselves are given and used, but the notion of ownership is removed. Things are also in Flow. Our new economy isn't one of barter. There is no equivalency associated with our gifts. Does that help?"]

["Maybe"] Lily was straining. ["But it seems too idealistic to be real. There is a flaw in it somewhere, I think."]

["Well, it does seem to work in Sherwood, doesn't it?"]

["I suppose."] Lily's ideas were hardened, Marto thought. Evidence was not enough to persuade her. She imagined the Merited tribes existed in a cloud-like fantasy. He thought of Nora by the river and her own resistance. He tried again.

["I agree, Merit can be hard to understand. It's like a game. When you give-up, which means giving to someone with higher Merit than yourself, your Merit increases as a function of the Merit of the receiver. When you give-down, it goes up less or stays the same. That way, the flow of gifts is ever upward, and the object of the game is to move upwards in the direction of the Flow."]

["So if I give you everything I have, and I am left with nothing, my Merit might go up, but I am still left with nothing?"]

["But not for long, Lily. As your Merit increases, so does the Flow of gifts in your direction. You are positioning yourself to receive more, by gifting more."]

Their conversation had attracted other people from Glenville. They were walking toward the green to watch the two of them argue. Over the next few hours, Marto found himself holding a public class on the basics of a Merit-based economy. He felt unqualified, as there were hundreds of super-mods who dedicated their lives to the analysis of Flow. But, none of them were here with the people of Glenville, so it was up to him. He did the best he could, choosing not to incorporate too many suggestions from his followers, who offered them enthusiastically, regardless.

Finally, the crowd thinned out, and the inhabitants started making preparations for the evening. Lauren and Thomas remained, along with Thomas' son, whose name, Marto learned was Bruce, and Thomas' father, Steven. Marto turned his attention back to Lauren, who seemed to be either the mayor or sheriff of Glenville. The idea of a community having a leader was repugnant to Marto's followers, but Marto understood it. They needed her to inspire them with confidence, and keep the community together. There was nothing wrong with it. She seemed to be doing a hero's job.

["What do you have in the way of defenses?"] He asked her.

["Thankfully, we've not had much need for them,"] she replied. ["We have Sherwood to the Northwest and Cos tribe to the Northeast. Raiders don't tend to try their luck between the two of them, so we are pretty safe. Some of us train. We have a store of old firearms and modified bow weapons, but we have not had to use them,"]

["You are fortunate,"] thexted Marto. ["We sometimes catch them coming over the bridge at Reverside, but we have advanced countermeasures. Have you thought of having them installed here? Perhaps one of the two tribes would be interested in helping you with that?"]

["They barely know we exist Marto. I don't think they would find it worth their while."]

["Maybe,"] he smiled.