“It means that it’s illegal for US states and commonwealths to attempt to secede?” George looked over to Arlene - a blonde-haired girl who kept her hair tied in a ponytail - for an instant, his face turning red momentarily in synch with hers, and spoke, running a hand through his maple-brown hair nervously. That would be continuity of government, without the plans for which put in action by our prudent forefathers 250 years ago, we would all still be living in shacks and looting pre-War supermarkets to supplement our diet.” “It means that even though the secessionists claim that the United States ceased to exist in the nuclear war, it still does?” ![]() Minnie, a black-haired girl with her hair still in pigtails at 18, raised her hand first, beating Walker by a fraction of a second. “Can any of you,” he said, “explain what this concept means?” He was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of the teacher writing on the blackboard, the two words clear to him - “PERPETUAL UNION”. He remembered a field trip to the Capitol Wasteland Museum when he was thirteen, five years ago – those stuffed deathclaws and super mutants, crude pipe rifles used by wasteland dwellers to protect themselves, and explosive collars used by slavers to secure their ‘stock’ had scared and enthralled him in equal measure. Walker had known nothing of that era and the even worse time two decades beforehand – his earliest memories of the city were of shining white marble monuments, brick houses and apartments, clear blue skies and bright green lawns. Old enough to remember the bad times of the 80s, when wasteland monsters and raiders were still a recent memory. The teacher walked into the class – portly, balding and in his late 40s. George Michael Walker sat down in class and prepared for the lesson – Civics, as usual – due to unfold.
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