"Could you locate the files on the last previous updated version of the Washington Principles?" Scholar Third Grade William Harding glanced up at his younger assistant through bespectacled eyes. Technically he was eligible for surgery but he liked the feel of bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose, it added an air of respectability about him. The young man nodded, taping the request into his telepad. He was a fair haired boy, still in the prime of his youth, probably unmarried, though it wouldn't be for long, and almost a complete opposite of the aging scholar before him.

"Sir, would you like the digital versions or the carbon copies? I can procure both down at the repository."

"Oh give me both, paper makes me nostalgic." The young man looked at Harding with a look of puzzlement. "Nostalgia..?" he asked. Harding sighed, sometimes he felt like the sole protector of the old languages. "Never mind that, it isn't important. Just fetch me both." The blonde boy nodded and hurried down the long corridor from Hardings office. In his few moments of peace, a rarity if there ever was one and the level managers would be outraged to know about them, he contemplated the task set before him, a new completely updated version of the Washington Principles, with the addition of several newly uncovered teachings and a whole wide selection of essays and analysis compiled by the governing class over the past five years. Of course this responsibility was a sign of his importance in modern society and he supposed he should be happy but there was something about studying the old things, the old manuscripts, that he loved.

The fair haired boy returned a few minutes later with several small shining discs and fat leather bound volume with and inlaid gold cover. Harding indicated where he wanted them placed and began flipping through the pages rapidly, lest he set a bad example for his future successor. Harding gave the boy a quick nod of the head and sent him on his way. His fingers rain through the heavy pages, searching for the exact page he needed and seemed to find it on their own. Harding readjusted his spectacles and peered down at the small ink lettering and began reading out loud to himself. "The aim of our society is to become self sufficient, never producing more then it can consume or consume more than it can produce; using all of our resources to their fullest. To this end every member of our society must serve a role and serve only a role that they can excel at. Due to the limitations of our environment at this time only those humans who can successfully contribute to society can be allowed to prosper." Harding checked his notes, one of the new teachings had been written so that it might fit under the chapter concerning the basic rules of society and civilization, he was sure of it. Sure enough he found the new excerpt.

"We are not allowed the freedom of civil rights; personal freedoms come at the cost of society at large. Should we make the same mistakes as our forebears by establishing ways in which to equalize men? Or should we merely follow in Mother Nature's footsteps and allow privilege to those with the natural ability to handle it? Civil Rights are based on the premise that society owes the individual a debt. Is it not the individual that prospers through society? Should not the burden of repayment be placed upon the individual? I propose that these civil rights be forfeited, as they should be, and the debt be considered null and void."

What awe inspiring words Washington had; what intelligence and eloquence. They had been lucky, those bands of survivors who had clung to Washington like sheep cling to the shepherd. Harding could remember the first time he had read the Washington Principles, the real thing, not the abridged version that children receive. How it had inflamed him, fired ambition within his young body like a load of coal in a furnace. It had led him down the long path towards becoming a scholar. Of course he had also excelled on the literate analysis portion of the Test at the age of six as well. That had helped somewhat.

On his computer Harding quickly added the new passage in, between the section on the rights of the individual and the section outlining the Caste system that would be rigidly implimentated only five years following Washington's death. It fit in-between like a glove. Harding noted that the timing of the discovery of this passage was quite convenient. The governing class had been dealing with the questions of personal freedom since the, Harding shuddered to think about it, uprising in the continental colony. According to the Times for the first time in the history of Civilization soldiers had been forced to enter a city and forcible put down a rebellion. Of course the paper had been vague on details; a hundred thousand employees dead, five thousand soldiers dead or dying by the end. Some had said that you could see the city burning from the tallest towers of New London. Indeed for several weeks everyone had been quite shaken, could people shake off the pleasant hold of society like that. Even the thought that they could be tempted to do so caused shudders among the good workers of Camelot and New London. Luckily the members of the governing class and the Ruling Council had calmed the situation by repeating the words of Washington himself. "Revolution is a good for society. Only by quelching the flames of individualism can we better understand the value of Civilization."

Harding was still pondering the uprisings when the Twenty Hour bells began to chime throughout the city. He quietly and quickly stood up, cleaned up his already neat desk and walked briskly out to the level lift. The entire floor filled into the wide elevator and silently waited as it set them softly down on the main level. Without uttering a word the mass of employees exited the towering Archival Building of New London and left its columned entrances and glittering glass facade for the Nine and a Half Rest. Harding took a quick glance around the city as he made his way towards the nearest Tube running out of New London towards Huxely. He knew he shouldn't, once again the level managers would not be happy but he figured that they might allow an old man the luxury of a few moments of wonder.

Along the small walkways leading between the imposing steel and iron buildings that loomed over the teeming crowds flooding out of the many offices and food courts of New London. Spires taller than anything in the history of man reached for the heavens above, monuments to Washington, great statues and marble shrines littered the roadways and filled the gaps between the monstrous skyscrapers. Overhead rocket-planes roared across the sky ferrying the more important business men as well as thousands of couriers and supplies across the vast distances between Civilization on the Washington Islands and her colonies on the mainland and the New World beyond the great oceans. Already the sun had begun to set, even so close to the mark of midsummer, casting golden rays of sunlight down the long corridors of New London. Giant information centers, illuminated screens reading off the days news, hung on every corner. Some played out favorite Washingtonian quotes, others ticked off the numbers of commodities produced in one day. Harding smiled as he let the entire scene fill his gaze, it stirred within him an emotion he rarely experience, one he enjoyed profoundly. He knew it wasn't something the Level Managers would approve of; it was probably one of those selfish individual acts that like sex were detrimental to society and civilization at large. Still, it was his guilty pleasure, his only vice.

With hundreds of other citizens, a few speaking in hushed tones, Harding descended the three staircases down to the tube station just a block from the Archival Building. A few minutes later he crowded into the tubular shaped transport and grabbed a wrung from the many suspended from the white, sterilized ceiling. The shuttle started up with a whooshing sound and gathered speed as it hurtled down onto the main track leading north from New London to the residential city of Huxley. No longer did man live within the same city as his work, traveling via high speed magnet levitation shuttles had cut down on commute time and allowed commercial and industrial cities to exist without any residential buildings. Community Planners, the highest position in the infrastructure field, laid out entire cities in the manner first suggested by Washington with the founding of New London, pinpointed a location perfect for an industrial or commercial center. They then drew a circle around the point about ten miles in radius. This was the city center and would consist of the marvelous skyscrapers and spiraling towers that made up downtown New London. Next a second circle, thirty miles in radius from the center, was drawn. Between four and six points were drawn along the curve of this second circle, indicating where the residential communities that the city will draw on for workers should be built. Huxely was a subset of New London as well as the home of William Harding.

A quarter of an hour later Harding emerged from the main station in Huxley and took a deep breath of the warm summer air. Harding hated the summer, hated the warmth and the humidity that hung over the Washington Islands like a permanent veil. He hurried to the main door of his building, a solidly constructed ivory colored building just a minutes walk from the station. Dozens of people quietly walked through the glass doors; most people in his building were the high paid workers that truly ran Civilization. Unlike the shuttle ride over to Huxley the lift ride up was full of talk and mirth. How good it felt to be done with a day of good, hard work. Harding reveled in the pride he felt, the pride all of them felt for contributing to the good of Civilization and society. It made his old weary bones feel young and alive again. Indeed Harding felt very good until he walked into his personal space for the night rest and found four black leather clad lawyers waiting for him inside, rifles, truncheons and all.