The Distributive Passions

NOTES: Engine troubles. Looks like I’ll have a little unscheduled layover in the Enewetak Recovery Area. This has to be eerie in any light. And the atmosphere. . .

Dear Josiah,

I perceive that you come, slowly, around toward my position. Our mutual correspondent sees all too well how the new harmonies are to be brought into being. Owen, it seems, will have a religion, no matter the cost to us all. I commend the Philadelphia comrades to you, and, also, Gray’s most recent Lecture. We may yet see from his pen the shape of the true social marriage. Too swiftly, I know, I must close this. Your notes on the one require more of me before I can give adequate answer. Soon, my friend. You have my promise. But affairs in Boston call, and I must answer. Meantime, tell me more of your time-money and the nature of your quarrel with Gray. Find enclosed some additional translations from the Traité. I would not force more Fourier upon you, but this I think you will find of interest. Let me know your thoughts. I will respond to all. Most sincerely,

- Cabalist

The Fourierist historians have always tended to moralism, when they did not sink into indifference, and these tendency have not diminished since the War began. Far from it. Every sudden advance of their cause they attribute to the actions of The Butterfly, and every setback, or apparent setback, to The Cabalist, though if ever there was a cabal worthy of the name it must be these smug priests of the Newest Dispensation. Historians should not be priests, or at least not priests of History. Reverence and the sense of destiny are always more than a match for objectivity, and never more than now, in the Age of Harmony-in-Abeyance. Why is it that the boldest of our sociologies seem to generate the dullest of moralisms? I feel the island-hopper nose down—with my thoughts, I think, and try to shake off this precisely pathetic, undisciplined notion—starting down towards yet another in the seemingly endless series of atoll airstrips and way-stations. The aircraft quiets as we start the slow, gliding descent. Plenty of time still to do a little work, take a surreptitious look at my dosimeter—which shows readings much lower than I had dared expect, and almost within the officially quoted rates. Three more hops, if I haven’t lost count, and I need to have my story down. The sun sinking towards the golden sea. Ah, well. The letters it is then, and without more delay. . .

Imagine that, in the early 19th century, the various libertarian currents, particularly mutualism, had met with just a little less resistance, that co-operation had dug its roots in just a bit deeper, particularly in American soil. Imagine there was a bit more to the ubiquitous social-sciences-of-everything than just hyperbole and wild metaphysical speculation. Take a few short steps with me, and we’ll see what might be possible.

Butterfly Labors combines a bridging narrative, Across Golden Seas, set in a somewhat altered present, with several sections based on familiar figures. The first of these is Sovereigns, which covers roughly the period 1826-1875. The names will be familiar; the events will be a mix of history and history-based fantasy. From time to time I’ll add commentary to explain which is which.