Red Flags

By Kevin J. Phyland

“When did all this happen?” Sonia took a hand from the steering wheel and waved vaguely at the tract houses we were driving past.

“Huh?” was my response, having been startled from a doze. I tried to make out what she had noticed through the eye which wasn’t covered by a protective patch. The cloud of my remaining cataract made it difficult.

All I saw were little box houses all built from a single budget plan. Some mirrored, some rotated. All with flags visible, either on poles or in front windows.

“The flags, dopey!” she said with a familiar exasperation.

It had been part of the reason she was now my ex-wife. Not a big reason though. We liked each other a lot but we just couldn’t live together. She had moved across the ditch twenty years ago to New Zealand but had still answered my distress call when I found I needed cataract surgery. Despite all the hassles of customs and border security these days.

The flags were a recent phenomenon. Gone from an occasional symbol of national pride and camaraderie to something with a rather sinister feel. Like a club you had to join.

“Yeah,” I said. “You weren’t here for all that. A decade or so back people wanted change in government. A lot of people looked for someone to blame for their financial problems. Some of the more opportunistic parties laid the blame squarely on migrants and trumped up lies about expensive alternative energy.”

I paused and let an old anger I thought I’d lost settle back into dull lethargy.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said under my breath.

Sonia wasn’t satisfied yet. “What’s that one? The one that looks like an Aussie flag, only red?”

We had turned a corner and I could vaguely see a red blur and a navy blue blur on adjacent houses.

“It’s called the red ensign, I think. At one time it was the flag of the Australian Merchant Navy. Now it’s sort of an unofficial flag of sovereign citizens or some of the crazier conspiracy theory people. The dark blue one is probably a Eureka flag.”

Sonia spared me a puzzled look. “What’s a sovereign citizen?”

I sighed and felt the old pain rise again. “Someone who wants all the benefits of living here without any obligations. They don’t like laws or paying taxes.”

“Sounds a bit like anarchy to me,” said Sonia. “Who pays for all your services then?”

I knew that New Zealand had kept pay-as-you-earn taxation and government funded services. “Most people aren’t sovereign citizens,” I said. “Most are just regular party members. Like me.” Those last two words held no trace of humour. “By making medicine and education a user-pays system it freed up a lot of money for other stuff.”  For a moment I couldn't even think of any other stuff.

I fell back into the memory of the day a party ‘enabler’ knocked on my door and ‘encouraged’ me to buy a flag to display. The Unified Nation faithful were not known for their subtlety. I’d heard reports of refusals being followed by broken windows and harassment in the street. Nobody was ever convicted even if it was known who did it. I related this to Sonia.

She shuddered. “So you’re a member of this Unified Nation?” She sounded amazed.

We pulled into the drive of the eye clinic. I simply nodded. I felt like I was being accused of something merely doing nothing. “I actually can't afford not to be,” I muttered.

At Reception I was asked for my Unified Nation party membership card. After it was verified I was ushered into a private waiting room. The remaining patients in the reception area looked jealously at us. Most would have been hard to classify as Caucasian. It was not a coincidence. The membership fees weren't onerous but they vetted you.

“What’s this?” asked Sonia suspiciously.  

I sighed. “Members pay about a third of non-members. Members don’t have to vote in elections either. They’re automatically counted as Unified Nation.”

Sonia chewed over this idea. She came to the logical conclusion.  “User pays and two-tiered?”

Another thought struck her. “And these people don’t see that they’ve sold all their much-valued rights for cheaper services? For thirty pieces of silver?”

I cringed a bit. It was never really about rights. It was the ultimate selfish state. Whatever you could get was okay. No matter how you got it.

“Well at least you’ll be able to see clearly soon.”  

I knew she thought she was changing the subject.

But I also knew that I had been seeing some things very clearly for a long time. And would for a long time to come.

Outside the window a red flag fluttered about wildly in the uncertain wind and cracked like a whip.

About the Author

Old enough to just remember the first manned Moon landing, Kevin was so impressed he made science his life.

Retired now from teaching he amuses himself by reading, writing, following his love of weather and correcting people on the internet.

He’s been writing since his teens and hopes he will one day get it right.

He can be found on twitter @KevinPhyland where he goes by the handle of CaptainZero and his work is around the place if you search using google or use the antisf.com.au archive.