3WW: Agree, Execute, Providence

'And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.'

The old man folded the brittle page carefully and slipped it into his pocket. The small crowd lingered for a time. Mostly old, infertile women. There were a few men, those who had survived. And a smattering of women lucky enough to have born a child or two.

After a time enjoying the scenery - they chose a different spot each year - the elders hobbled back to camp; the younger men and women followed. They could not gather in large groups for any period of time outside the anti-detection perimeter they had constructed lest the new government of the United States find them and execute them.

But on this one day, the former Independence Day, this group of rebels asserted their freedom by gathering outside their perimeter. A brief, symbolic gesture to declare their rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

The old man did not immediately return to the village. Instead, by the light of the dying sun, he journeyed to the edge of a nearby cliff and stared into the valley where he saw, in the distance, a gleaming city with highways crisscrossing about it. Odd that he lived so close to the place where he had lived another life. Where his children most likely still lived. And where his wife had chosen to die. A city of high-tech slavery. The city a microcosm of the country that itself had sold its soul to the devil in return for a blend of hedonism and ultimate power.

He made his way back across the familiar path in the darkness of the new moon. When at the gates, he spoke the password, 'I do not agree with a word that you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it. Voltaire.' And with the final word the young man bade him enter.