Photo by Sasun Bughdaryan on Unsplash
2030 Spring
“Patrick, there you are.”
I eye the gathering and nearly turn back around. The entire Three-Prong Woodlands was gathered in our ramshackle tent and shack community we had stitched together to help the farmer backing our development. “We came in early like the runner asked. Problem?” I ask Jeremy, though obviously being called in early from spring planting, there is a problem.
A big one. I see the triple tribunal gathered on the back of two dead pickups we had pushed together as a stage. The ordinary tribunal, the eldest male, the eldest female, and the mayor, plus their supports, the next eldest two males, next eldest two females, and the outgoing mayor and the incoming mayor. That means, usually, criminal proceedings; happy news would not have needed runners.
Being one of the tallest males in our two-hundred-person community, I look for Farmer McConnel and his family as the rest of my workcrew streamed around me and breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever happened didn’t involve our food.
“Yeah, Nick decided to scratch the cat.”
“Fucking idiot. She was two weeks out.”
“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded his agreement. “But two weeks is two weeks and now we got to set precedents.”
I frown as Jeremy and I elbow our way through the crowd to the work crew chiefs. Emily and Richardo, both with fields closer in than mine look settled. Mary, the crew chief in charge of numbers and supplies, had her autistic ass up with the triple tribunal and her special blue notebook at the ready with sheets of paper to take notes to transfer to the notebook once precedent was settled. Alledria heads our way with a toddler, not hers, on her hip; an elementary teacher turn education organizer since our part of Texas has gone gridless. Three men and three women of the crew chiefs on the left side of the trucks. On the other side were the four crafter heads: construction, lead chef, textiles, and bard. Miguel couldn’t sing a note to save his life, but he organized the news services, the full moon dances, storytelling, and had a lot of overlap with Alledria. Textiles, Lucy, may be fifty-six and arthritis was betting the better of her hands, but she could teach anyone how to adjust clothes as the kids grew, taught us sprang to make the hammocks everyone used to keep cool during the summer months, and actually knew how to weave baskets.
Once Alledria joins us, as the present boss of the work crews – I was an idiot and took a piss in the middle of the discussion of who would be it this year, I walk over and let the ancient Mr. Russo my head count is complete. Everyone had arrived; some may have ducked out, but everyone had checked in.
The Mayor, Grace Marshall, banged their staff on the pickup truck bed. Noise rose for a moment as everyone told everyone else to shut up, then quiet reigned except for the sounds of a youngster asking what is happening and a mother trying to soothe a teething infant toward the back of the crowd. “Precedent must be established.” Grace projected out to the crowd. “Nick Taylor and Belle King were found together.” They let the crowd process the news.
Everyone likely already knew it, but now it was official. Nick is in his late twenties and Belle is going to turn eighteen in early April. Idiot.
“We, as a community, at our first meeting decided that eighteen would be the age of adulthood, with all the rights and responsibilities that came with it.”
Voting, marriage, and community chores to name a few.
“Between the ages of thirteen and seventeen youth would enter adult apprenticeship, including learning the emotional stakes of long-term relationships, but avoiding the long-term consequences until their bodies can handle it.”
Statuary rape stayed on the books for us.
“Bring Miss Belle King before the Triple Tribunal.”
The rightmost of the four young runners in one of their many adult apprenticeship duties ran to one of the new sturdy sheds construction had built in preparation for the year of farming. Belle’s mother and step-father immediately walk out, with a downtrodden Belle between them. Someone in the crowd yells, “Slut.” And a big slap immediately follows.
An area clears around Wyatt. Another idiot. He is lucky he is married, although his wife is one of those who stepped away from him. I consider her.
Our community was top-heavy on adult males. Of the hundred forty original adults in our forty-two-home community when we became gridless, eighty-four were men and fifty-six were female. We lost seven men and six women to birth, accident, and health not surviving the loss of electric. And only two children passed the threshold to adulthood in the past three years. It means those slow on the uptake, like me, who didn’t pair off that first year spent a lot of time with Ms. Hand.
At twenty-five, I had hoped to court Belle and thought my age and status in the community will put me ahead of the other unattached men. But if Harper and Wyatt were on the outs, that would be a much better option. There was a ten-year gap of so between Wyatt and Harper. He had snatched her out of high school to be his obedient wife; now with three children in five years, she might have buyer’s regret. Something to think about. I’m pretty sure I can be a step up from Wyatt without breaking a sweat.
Belle and her parents make it to the trucks.
“Do you understand why you are here?” the mayor asks, somehow both loudly and gently.
“I didn’t do nothing wrong.” The girl’s voice tinges with defiance.
The mayor stamps the rod, and the middle of the elderly women steps forward to repeat her words for the crowd. Margorie got the voice to rival Grace’s booming alto-tenor.
“Vickie. If you would.” The mayor took a step back and let the eldest of all our women used her rollator to move forward. Miss Vickie and Miss Maggie had their shit together. Camilla, though, didn’t have the brains God gave a chicken. I don’t know what we will do when it came her turn in the seat; I highly suspected she will have an accident soon just like Charles had during the winter, when his dementia took a turn for the worse. But that would be a woman thing, just like Charles had been a man thing.
“Belle, dear,” Vickie’s soft voice crackled with her ninety years of age, “you know that is not true.” Vickie waited which Maggie carried her words to the crowd. For an eighty-two-year-old, Margorie’s voice is amazing and shows all the signs of her years on stage.
Belle winced as those words were shouted over her head.
“What is your responsibility to the community?”
The response is mumbled even as the question is repeated for the crowd.
“Give an old woman a little grace.” Vickie winked at our two-spirit mayor. “Repeat that again so I can hear it.”
“I said, I ain’t suppose to do shit.” Belle spat at them. “But why? It’s fun. I can kiss Ian and hug Taylon, but can’t fool around with Nick? That is some serious bullshit.”
“You were hardly fooling around with Nick. Now were you?”
“So I was fucking him. Big deal.” The seventeen-year-old shrugged. “I’ve been having sex since I was thirteen.”
Belle’s mom hid her face behind her palms and her step-dad looked to the heavens for answers.
“You’ve been very lucky then.” Vickie said. “And have completely ignored your duties of learning how to adult.”
We waited for those words to be carried to the crowd. While the sex since thirteen didn’t rile anyone up much, we all knew Belle is a slut and sluts can be very useful when a community is top-heavy masculine, the proclamation of not doing the duties of adulthood sent a whisper through the crowd because that would be Precedence.
“Therefore, your apprenticeship shall be extended one year. You shall be removed from your parents as you are not responding to their teaching. For the next year, you shall work with the women tribunal and we shall teach you all the duties of the community. On your nineteenth birthday, so long as you satisfy us with your ethics, your responsibilities, and your duties, you will be declared an adult.”
The words are repeated for the crowd; Belle tried to yell over them, but her mother covered her mouth while her step-father held her still. Me and Jermey nod to each other being the biggest men, me tall and he broad, and walk over.
The first Precedence was a couple hoarding food after the community went all in, while they still ate at the community table and watched a young child waste away. Nothing could help the kid with childhood diabetes, but the fact remained they stole food from children that first year while keeping stuff back. That was when Three-Prong realized we needed a government while we waited for the grid to turn back on. Jeremy and I became the enforcers. We held the couple at the trial, we guarded them during the three days without food.
The Precedence was created: first offense, three days without food. So far no one needed more. Some people thought they could get away with things but discover when everyone lived on top of everyone else, while we did let the oil of life let some things slip – like whoever slapped Wyatt wouldn’t face assault charges, everything will be found out.
Jeremy unwrapped the handkerchief around his neck he had been using all day to wipe his face and shoved it in Belle’s mouth when her mother moved her hand. My handkerchief had been twisted and I drop it over her face and tied the ropy cloth behind her head. Lucy drops cord into my hand; I don’t ask where she got it. With her hands neatly tied behind her back, Jeremy takes one elbow and I take the other and escort her to the woman’s side of the truck with the crafters.
“Sit.” I say, pressing her shoulder down. She does prove to have some sense and drops her butt into the dirt. We nod at the crafters and return to our side of the truck.
“As for you, Jennifer King-Harris and husband, we shall want you and your family to come by the woman’s tent for some questions. Sometimes children cannot be controlled, other times guidance was inadequate. We need to make sure this is one and not the other.”
“You are most generous,” the woman says.
Maggie’s voice is just about done with the final shout.
“Precedence has been established,” the mayor says as they step forward. “Mary, if you will.”
“Um, yes, right.” Our shy mathematician and record-keeper steps forward, and I have to remind myself again, she isn’t shy, she just doesn’t like crowds, but she can lead with the best of us. Holding a piece of paper in one hand, she presses against her stomach with the other. “Those of the age of adult apprenticeship who prove to have an inadequate grasp of the duties of citizenship and community, shall be removed from their parents keeping and given to the appropriate gender tribunal for direct instruction until such time as they prove themselves trained. Such apprentices shall not achieve adulthood, even if they reach their majority, until they prove themselves worthy of citizenship adulthood. While community is a right, citizenship is a privilege with duties and responsibilities.”
How did she…for a moment Belle and Harper slip from my mind as possible partners and I fall a bit in love with Mary. She is unattached but in our Crew Chief meetings assures us she is looking and herto, mostly. Something about attracted first to intelligence. Yeah, smarts are sexy. I see that now.
She smiles broadly because she knows she nailed it and my stomach flips.
How she pulled that out of the back and forth, and the shouting, to present with no warning is beyond amazing. I remind myself: not my type.
“Not mine either,” says Jeremy beside me.
I hadn’t realized I had spoken aloud.
“But I may need to rethink that.”
“Yep.” I agree.
Grace steps forward one more time. “Bring Mister Nick Taylor before the Triple Tribunal.”
The second runner goes to a different completed shed. This one had a couple of our strong men at the door, ones you can trust to do what they are told without embellishments.
Not like Jermey and me. We show “initiative” as every mayor our community has had so far likes to say. So far we have avoided getting chits thrown into the mayor race, but I think if either one of us gets married, we will be holding that staff within the year.
Nick has a muzzle on his face and his hands are tied in front of him. The two guys walk him in and remove the muzzle.
Someone’s sex toy will need cleaning.
And Easton accepts it and attaches it to his belt. No surprise there. The mask is now on the opposite side of his whip. His skill with the whip has been very helpful as we learned to control the farmer’s cows. No one asks what he and his wife do behind closed doors, but we can hear it just fine. Whatever is happening, it is very consensual.
“Fuck this shit.”
Well, Nick, that is a great way to start, I think.
Unlike Belle, who had been given her clothes back, he had only been given his underwear. Hickies, some of them new and some aging toward green and yellow, show someone is marking her territory around his neck, chest, and thighs. Kids do stupid stuff as they learn what works for them and what doesn’t.
“Did you have relations with Belle King?” the mayor asks.
“Yeah, I fucked her.” Nick smirked. “Maybe even knocked her up this time. I think I figured out her cycle.”
Several in the audience sucked in their breath at his crude words, and even cruder intent.
“You are aware she is in adult apprenticeship.”
“Yeah, but she’s seventeen, it is as good as an adult.”
Grace’s face clouded as they look down at the nearly naked man. “No. It is not.”
“Well, fine. It’s my first offense.” The man shrugged without an ounce of repentance. “I can handle three days without food.”
Looking out at the crowd, the mayor declared, “Precedence must be set. This action is anti-community. It risks our daughters and our sons.”
“Damn right.” Tim Rodesky shouted out from where he stood with his four boys, step-stools from five to eleven. His wife was in the back with the teething infant, the family’s first daughter.
Throughout the audience words of agreement fluttered.
I saw Wyatt gulp, and I narrow my eyes. Emily takes a step next to me and elbows me and Jeremy; Wyatt was on her work group. We will be talking about things later. He was a hard worker, but is he worth it? It wouldn’t be the first time we discussed him.
“Giovanni, if you would.”
The seventy-nine-year-old eldest male, Giovanni Russo, stepped forward. “Get up here, Lorenzo.” He said pointing to his fifty-something-year-old son in the audience. “I need a mouthpiece.” The salt-and-pepper haired man bounced up from where he had been leaning on a dinner table and took the stairs up into the male-side of pickup truck beds.
There he dutiful repeated the words his father had just said. We had two years to work all the kinks out of not having electric megaphones. The agreed format was all works needed to be projected by the human microphones.
“Nick, you done screwed up.” Giovanni didn’t pull any punches. “There is no such thing as an underage fuck toy.”
The next older elder pinched the bridge of his nose as the words were shouted over the crowd of men, women, and children.
“Rape is rape. You are a good worker and I hate to lose you, so we are gonna see if you have a learning curve other than watching women’s hips.” The Italian widower nodded at Easton. “I’m gonna make this one easy for Mary. An adult rapes an apprentice, as close to consensual as you can get when a kid isn’t old enough to make an adult contract, you get as many lashes as you have difference in your ages. In your case, nine. For children between the ages of seven and twelves, the flogging is double the age difference. For the littles, six and under, four times. Add assault to it, which for the children and littles it will always be assault, the flogging will be with a scrouge instead of just a whip.” He paused between sentences, letting his son speak for him to the crowd. The Italian patriarch returned Nick’s smirk. “You are just lucky you have all the bruises and the girl has none because I always wanted to see a scrouging.”
Gio turned to Mary. “That work, girl?”
“Not a girl,” she snapped back, “but, yes. What of the second offense?”
“Death.” Giovanni didn’t even pause to think about it.
Several members of the audience, both men and women made noise.
Grace pounds their staff for quiet. “The Council of Men will welcome feedback in their tent, individually, and at the new moon meeting in six days. But the decision has been made, unless anyone has objections to this particular man receiving this particular punishment. Speak now.”
Grace held up their talking stick high, counting slowly and raising it higher as they built toward ten.
Amelia came forward by five. “My objection is always against violence.”
“Duly noted.” The mayor lowered their staff.
“I don’t need your fucking help, treehugger.” Nick spat in her direction.
Ignoring the defendant, Grace asked, “What punishment would you have in its place as correction for the community.”
“I wish I could say there is effective treatments for rapists, but the only thing that seems to work is community pressure.”
Grace looked out at the Three-Prong community in their farming shanty area. “I believe community pressure didn’t work in this case. Will you withdraw your objection.”
“I really wish there is another option, and I will talk to the men’s tent later to see if we can figure something else out.” The homesteader pacifist shrunk a little before saying, “I withdraw my objection for now, but ask that medical be available to bind the wounds to prevent infection.”
“Acceptable.” Grace turned to the Chef, which job description somehow covered food, nutrition, exercise, and medical, who looked behind him and saw the two first-aiders of the group do fingers at each other and then one ran off to their tent. “Nine flogs. To be implemented tonight after the cows are brought in and milked. Dallas, Patrick. I will need you to guard just a bit longer. Meeting adjourned.” The staff pounded the truck beds one more time. “Let’s get those cows in.”
(words 3192; first published 11/08/2026)
Three-Prong Woodlands Series
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- A Young Man’s Fancy (11/08/2026) – Spring 2030
- Nine Flogs (11/15/2026) – Spring 2030
- Gridless (11/1/2026) – Fall 2030
- Divorce Divisions (11/22/2026) – Winter 2030
- Grace Drops By (11/29/2026) – Spring 2031
- Election Day (12/06/2026) – Summer 2031
- By the River (12/13/2026) – Spring 2032.