The colonel was speechless for a moment. When he finally got his voice back he was incredulous. "Why?"

"This used to be farmland, you know," I explained. "Premium farmland. Back before two-thousand four it was just a big traffic jam and plastic junk. Boston has said we need to reclaim all the agricultural land we can. That was our plan, and it has been approved."

"You'll need to do it with bulldozers," Flemming said.

"What good would that do?" Amber screwed up her face at him. "You can't farm three square miles of asphalt and cinder blocks."

"You put a little HE all around under the slab," Piso put in. "Blow it up into the air. When it comes down it smashes itself into powder. That, honey, is how you green Blue England."

Flemming turned back to me again. "Mr. Brahmin, if you want to argue, you'll have to argue with Boston. I have my orders."

"Wait." I put down my sandwich and stood up. "Wait, wait, there's no need to get all military on us. Let me show you something, okay? Can I? I just want to show you one thing."

"Mr. Brahmin, I have orders."

"I just want to show you one thing."

"What?"

"What we're doing."

"I t'ink I saw what you're doing."

"No, you didn't. You saw a big mess. Let me show you what it's all about. Then if you still think we're wasting our time, you can take every bit of bomb you want."

"What!" Piso exploded.

"Chill," I motioned him down. "Chill. Deal, Colonel?"

"You're wasting my time," Flemming said.

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe I am. But give me one try. Just a couple minutes."

"All right," he said. "But make it quick."

"Quick it is. You guys chill, Flem and I are going to go for a drive."

"I'm driving!" Amber chirped, and jumped up and raced for the Rover.

"In the back," I said.

"But Bram--" she started.

"In the back."

Her mouth dropped open in hurt surprise. Amber was seventeen, but sometimes she acted younger. She was one of those brilliant kids who had the misfortune to be born in Kansas. It had taken her mother three years to get her to Illinois, and as a consequence she had spent her childhood first hiding at the bottom of dumpsters, then working on her thesis. Nobody blamed her if a part of her was still a kid.

She stayed with her hand on the driver's door until I gently pushed her aside.

The truck hummed quietly as we drove east on Route 2, the engine making less noise than the tires on the pavement or the wind over the windows. I've driven an electric truck for five years, now, and I never tire of not hearing that motor.

For the first few minutes the colonel rode patiently beside me as we rolled along past banks, offices, upscale stores, and acres of parking nestled quaintly into groves of trees. He didn't buckle his seat belt, I noticed. Amber didn't either, but Amber was young and reckless, and at least she was in the back seat.

"See that building?" I pointed out one round brick and glass edifice with its obligatory surrounding asphalt.

"Yes, I see it," the colonel said.

"It's a doctor's office," I said.

"It's butt-ugly," Amber said from the back.

"It's a doctor's office," I repeated.

"So?"

"So who goes to it? Nobody lives around here. There aren't any sidewalks. This is a highway. You can't get here without a car. That one building is a problem. It demands gasoline, car factories, asphalt, traffic, greenhouse gases, acid rain, crime, poverty, poor education, you name it. Just because of where it is."

"Listen, Brahmin, you don't need to give me an introduction to da Reconstruction. I'm from Union Command. I was a poll monitor in Ohio in two t'ousand four, I helped author the Treaty of Columbus, I was Green when you were whining about hanging chads in Florida, okay? Vermont is not a priority for Reconstruction. Even if you were da first to secede, even if your old governor were still president, you guys are halfway green already. You t'ink dese buildings are ugly you should see New Joisey. Dis all you got to show me?"

"There's more, Flem," I said. "Hold on. Just remember that building."

We passed the golf club and Amber glued her face to the window. "Wow! Oh man, that is an ugly building. Bram, can we blow that one up, too? Please?"

"In its time, Amber, in its time," I said. "We can't do it all at once, but in time, we will do it all."

In a minute we reached Richmond, and I turned left through the covered bridge. "See this village, Colonel?" I said. "Of course, you know what I'm talking about. Nice town. Plenty of stores. Everything you need, really."

"It is nice, too," Amber said, sliding across the seat to look out the other window. "When we're done, I want to live here."

A minute more and we were in the country, sailing along Brown's Trace Road, past quaint homes lodged in the woods and fields. Mount Mansfield towered ahead of us, the old man forever lying on his back and gazing at the sky. Brown's Trace was still quite overbuilt--there was no need for so many houses scattered along the road, but I knew it would impress a man who grew up in the Bronx.

"This is what I wanted to show you, Flem. That road we were just on, it's no different than this one. That road could look just like this. We're about twelve miles from downtown Burlington, as the crow flies. Hell, you could walk here, if the place wasn't a patchwork of private property. With just a little work, we can make this country perfect, people and services in the cities, in the villages, nothing but wilderness in between, just like the Reconstruction intended. Then none of the whiners in New Jersey can say that its an unattainable dream. Every one of your Boston lawmakers who've been riding the fence on the Reconstruction can feel vindicated in publicly saying they have hope. It will be a green tide, sweeping across the nation. And all it takes is just a little plastique."