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Monday, November 14, 2011

From "Impossible Possibilities" by James G. Bruen Jr.

“Compensation?” snorted Wayne. “We don’t want compensation. We want our land. We want it to live on, to raise families on, to farm, and to enjoy, not to sell or to develop.”

“When the government wants your property, there’s not much you can do,” she noted. “You can’t fight city hall.”

“But my uncle’s bribed the selectmen,” protested Conlon.

“Can you prove that?” responded the lawyer. “It’s just your word, and, after your ‘Money grows on trees’ performance, most people think you’re loony. If the selectmen vote again within two weeks to condemn the property, eminent domain will proceed.”

As the four men left the lawyer’s home, Adam Wayne turned to the others. “I’ll plan the attack,” he said quietly.

The evening of the final vote began unremarkably. Large lazy clouds turned yellows and browns as the sun set; they drifted slowly from the south. Among them, though, one grew larger and larger as it neared town, but no one there noticed its approach. Pie-shaped and golden brown on top, but metallic silver on the bottom, it glided silently towards the town hall. Jackson leapt from its gondola, and, landing lightly on the building’s roof, tethered the balloon.


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