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Easter week Thursday
Since two days, the local cell phone company was subjected to a 50% upsurge in data traffic as just about every student of Manatee Bay High School, Palmetto Drive Jr. High and Poplar Road Jr. High started sending text message after text message. Manatee Bay's sole ISP, as well, noted a major upsurge in hits to Google, Yahoo, Wikipedia and other on-line search and reference sites. One technician, just out of college, even commented to a colleague as he skimmed the dailies that he hadn't even seen that much traffic during the previous spring's exam week.
It all culminated that Thursday when just about every one of Manatee Bay's more than four hundred junior high school and high school students, seemingly at random, ended up at the abandoned warehouse of a fish processing plant that had gone belly-up a few years ago in the east end of town. Several of the more enterprising kids, although since they were college students for the most part, they couldn't really be called kids anymore, had laid in a totally 'unofficial' patch to the power grid and the warehouse had become the 'secret' hangout where gaming aficionados of all stripes would gather, compete and discuss strategy. The Sheriff's office knew about the place, of course, but since the kids were not doing anything wrong (beyond stealing a minimal amount of electricity – computers don't consume all that much), they turned a blind eye to the goings-on.
In the open central area of the warehouse, there was a raised platform, like a stage. On that that stage was an eight-foot long table and a half-dozen or so folding chairs that had been salvaged from Manatee Bay High School's garbage. Sitting on these chairs were Ernesto, Consuela, Tori, Mandy, Kristen and Jennifer. Sandy's son, Scott, was standing in front of the table. Below them, on the floor, crowded together, were most of the twelve to seventeen year olds of Manatee Bay as well as a few older ones.
After a quick glance at his watch, he opened the proceedings. "Okay, everyone ... pipe down!"
There were still quite a bit of murmuring. Scott took a deep breath and yelled... "QUIET!"
"Thank you. Allow me to introduce myself, my name Scott McCormick. My mom owns BreadBasket. Most of you have seen how our parents hold public meetings, Home and School, School Board, City council meetings and so forth ... let's try to behave responsibly, shall we? The more discipline we have, the sooner we'll be finished."
"Now, as you all know, we're here to discuss what to do about the new crowd that's hanging out at the Marina. Just in case some of you just came back from outer space, I'll ask Mandy to give you a quick resume of what happened last Sunday and Monday. Then Tori will give you some background information about these people and, finally, Consuela will propose some concrete options. Then, as our parents say, we'll entertain questions from the floor before voting. Is that all right with you... ? Quiet!. Show of hands, please..."
"Good. Mandy... ?"
"For those that don't know me, I'm Mandy Brooks. My mother is chair ... woman, I'd guess you'd say, of the Manatee School Board. Unlike Tori and some of you, I was not raised a naturist. For me, it started six years ago when the State added mandatory swimming classes to the school program. Since the only pools in the county were at 'Cuda Beach, we were obliged to do those classes in skin. Two months later, the school I was at burnt to the ground and the new school was built within the grounds of 'Cuda Beach. There were, apparently, good reasons for this but I don't really care. What's important is that I got to like running around in skin ... no more hassles of shopping for clothes, trying to find something that fit, that didn't itch, that didn't pinch ... you all know what I mean."
"As I got older, I discovered another advantage although I didn't realise it at the time. We all watch TV and everyone on the shows we watch is dressed. What I slowly got to understand is that, in those shows and in the movies on the movie channels, the teens, guys mostly but the girls as well, spent an awful amount of time trying to grab sneak peaks of the other sex in locker rooms, at the beach, what have you. We don't have that here and, frankly, that's a relief."
"Last Sunday, Kristen, Jennifer..." Mandy pointed to two of the girls behind the table, "and I went the Marina. That new crowd was there. The guys were wearing board shorts ... now, board shorts I can deal with; nobody here wears them but we see them enough on TV. The girls, however, were wearing full-body leotards in feminine colours like sky blue, turquoise, covered with flowery cotton blouses. On their heads they had what looked like tube tops, you know, like those stretchy things women on TV wear to cover their breasts. They had absolutely nothing showing, not even their hair. When we got there, we were stared at as if we were some weird kind of insect. I've never felt as uncomfortable as I did then. We turned around and went home."
"The following day, rather than face them again, we decided to go to the pool at 'Cuda. At least there, we feel welcome. While we were there, Connie, here, and Mike ... Mike Hollingsworth, came and joined us. They, too, had been to the Marina but this time, rather than just stare, that crowd started yelling insults and throwing rocks. What we found out, though, when we talked about it afterwards is that they didn't seem to care that Mike was nude; all the insults were directed at Connie."
Mandy looked back at Tori and the two traded places.
"I'm pretty sure everyone knows me but since the others introduced themselves, I may as well do it too ... I'm Tori Jackman. My dad owns 'Cuda and is the mayor of Manatee Bay. I first heard about this two weeks ago when one of Chef Jacques' friends came for a visit from France. He told us that there was a bunch of puritanical Arabs planning to set up a ... beachhead, he called it, a base from which to gradually invade the States. He said they were not terrorists but rather a kind of fifth column that would slowly try to install their cultural beliefs and influence our laws."
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