A short story written in December 2024. Posted in April 2025 as I watch the world more closely resemble the first chapter, saddened by how much less time it took than I had even pessimistically predicted.
Readers with a keen interest in fascist history may notice a few Easter eggs in the content.
Please note: If you are used to my YA urban fantasy, this is a very different piece. It is an adult short story that includes themes of transphobia, racism, ableism, other forms of bigotry, violence and fascism.
Chapter 1: 10 December 2026
Humanity has a long history of assigning value to people’s lives. From blood money paid by a murderer to compensate their victim’s family to the buying and selling of enslaved people, the forms of this valuation have changed significantly across time and cultures.
Many people alive today would consider such traditions barbaric, believing that every individual’s existence is priceless beyond measure. However, we still regularly place valuations on human life and use these to make crucial decisions.
Economics has a concept called the value of a statistical life (VSL). This is a dollar figure placed on an average human life, or how much money it is worth to avoid a person’s death. Here in the US, the value depends on which department you talk to, but it’s around USD 13 million. Back home in Australia, it’s only AUD 5.4 million (or $235,000 a year) in 2023 dollars.
Sam let their fingers fall flat onto the keyboard and looked out the large hotel window at the chaos unfolding 12 floors below. A mass of humanity spread out over Park Avenue as far as they could see, spilling into side streets and alleyways.
Even this high up, Sam could hear the noise. The musical lilt of a protest chant, the words too faint to make out. The orders from police with megaphones to stop marching and stand down. The screams of pain from those who had been tear-gassed. The pops of so-called ‘less-lethal weapons’.
Sam was struck by how easy it was to distinguish between the two opposing groups, even in this throng that some sources estimated at a million strong. Then again, Sam had booked this hotel room specifically for its location at the planned epicentre of the protest action.
Stretching down Park Avenue to their left was a kaleidoscope of colour: people waving flags and signs in all the colours of the rainbow. There were pride flags, women’s rights signs, trade union emblems, national flags from across the world, large banners calling for Black rights and the end of fascism, and home-made signs with pithy text like “We are not ovary-acting” and “So bad, even introverts are here”.
To Sam’s right, a regiment of black-clad men stood stoically, the late afternoon sun glinting off assault rifles and a range of other weaponry. Even their faces were covered with black bandanas. The only pops of colour were from Confederate and neo-Nazi flags.
Just looking at that group made Sam’s blood run cold. In their confident stillness, Sam saw too many parallels to the warlords and terrorists they’d met as a war correspondent.
Between the two groups stood another, though Sam at first found it difficult to distinguish them from the fascists as they were also clad all in black. But instead of bandanas, these people wore black helmets with face shields. Instead of assault rifles, they held riot guns, batons and shields. A large truck stood out inside the group of riot cops: a water cannon. It was trained squarely at the colourful group, a warning of what would come next if the tear gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets weren’t enough.
There had been no instigating event for the police to attack the marchers. At least, none that Sam had been able to see on the live stream from the front line that they had playing on the TV. A group of riot police had simply started spraying, firing and hitting.
That had been over ten minutes ago. The attacks had not yet stopped. They had only spread.
It was depressing how unsurprising it had been that the instigating police had been white men and those first in the all-too-literal firing line had been people of colour. But that had been so common over the last few years that it was almost normalised.
Sam took a deep, trembling breath and began typing again.
Economists claim that assigning a monetary value to human life is necessary to enable cost-benefit analyses, so that policy and regulatory analysts can determine where best to allocate ‘limited’ resources. However, that is based on two underlying assumptions:
That any calculation can ever encompass the value of a life.
That resources are truly limited rather than disproportionately allocated.
The second point has been widely argued by academics far more learned on the topic than this journalist, with many pointing out the fallacies in the Malthusian teachings that form the foundations of scarcity theory.
However, having interviewed many hundreds of people living in poverty and lacking the basics of human survival, having reported from warzones where the majority of children have life-altering injuries caused by weapons or preventable diseases, and having spent the last year covering US politics, I feel somewhat qualified to comment on the value of a human life.
As I write this, hundreds of thousands of people are protesting in the streets of New York, just outside my window. Each protestor has knowingly put their safety on the line by marching today, to demonstrate the value they place on not just their own lives but the lives of those in their communities. To show the world that they mean more than a dollar figure in a bureaucrat’s spreadsheet.
However, these protestors are not going up against economists or bureaucrats. They are being met by police, who appear to use a different method for determining the value of a life.
Sam’s fingers again fell flat as they fought to keep tears from clouding their vision. So many friends were in that crowd, protesting for their ability to exist and retain hard-won human rights. To be seen as human.
All had gone along knowing that doing so put themselves at risk. That was the sad reality of progressive activism now in the USA, just as it had been back in the days of the Civil Rights movement. And that risk of violence had now become a reality.
Sam felt like a coward, hiding safely in a hotel room. Their legs twitched and their heart pumped, its rhythm screaming that they should be down there, fighting for their friends and all others who just wanted to be able to live freely!
They swallowed and mentally reiterated a Thomas Jefferson quote they’d had re-read so constantly over the last few hours that it had become seared into their mind:
“The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.”
Down there with the protestors, Sam would be just another body in the crowd. Here, they had a voice that could be seen by millions. If their newsroom decided to publish it. And if they could ever finish writing the article.
At university, Sam had been taught that emotions are the enemy of reason, that neutrality was one of the most important skills a journalist could develop.
They had never been able to find that emotional neutrality. Even after years of reporting from literal warzones and seeing the worst of humanity, Sam had been unable to remain objective at the sight of a starving child or wounded soldier. And, although they felt guilty about it, they had to admit that it was harder this time than even the worst warzone they’d been in. It could very well be their friends being beaten and shot at down there, in a city that was supposed to be safe.
Friends they had laughed with at the bar. Some whose kids Sam had played with just a few blocks away in Central Park. Others whose drag or comedy shows Sam had been to, watching in awe of the confident and inspiring people on the stage, amazed that they counted Sam as their friend. Still more who Sam had hugged and kissed and fucked and confided in about the pitfalls of dating in your 30s.
Trembling with fear and guilt, Sam forced themself back to the laptop. This needed to be written, even if they could barely see the screen through tears they could no longer stop.
This unspoken valuation formula appears at first to be incapable of definition or calculation. However, people will always find ways of overcoming such obstacles, even when that means ignoring mathematical precision. One famous example is how, after decades of astrophysicists speculating about the existence of extraterrestrial life, Frank Drake developed an equation to assess how likely we are to ever communicate with aliens.
Although presented as a mathematical formula, the Drake equation is more of a thought experiment. Some of the terms are almost impossible to quantify, such as the fraction of inhabitable planets where life exists. Yet many (generally more fringe) scientists have plugged in their own values in an attempt to justify the search for extraterrestrial life.
The actions of US law enforcement and politicians in the modern USA indicate to this journalist that they have their own equivalent of the Drake equation, one where some terms appear equally impossible to quantify. Yet they are able to make these calculations in a split second, to determine what they deem a ‘reasonable’ response based on the value they place on the life of a person or group of people.
After extensive research and scrutiny, this equation seems to be:
(Author’s note: I ask that my name never be attributed to this equation, as I do not want to be associated with this grotesquerie.)
Sam let out a deep breath, only just now aware that their lungs had been screaming for air as they had finished typing.
This was the culmination of a year of trying and failing to distil the growing horrors they were seeing on the streets of a country that still considered itself to be ‘the land of the free’. The increasing militarisation and social disruption. The purge of anyone who could be regarded as the ‘other’. The people falling for the scam on which the USA was founded: that they are just temporarily embarrassed millionaires rather than being far closer to the unhoused people they kicked off the streets, and that it is perfectly reasonable to trample others for their own gain.
Sam still didn’t understand it. It made no sense to them to think this way. But they didn’t have to understand something to recognise its existence. It was like when they were reporting from warzones: the wars generally had no rational basis, but the lack of logic didn’t stop the number of dead from climbing.
A roaring sound interrupted Sam’s thoughts.
They jumped to the window.
Two streams of purple-dyed water shot from the black truck, surging over the heads of the police advancing in a shield wall formation towards the brightly coloured crowd. From this height, Sam was reminded of watching a person blow on a dandelion as bodies were flung away from the front line by the force of the water.
The local hospitals would be overflowing tonight.
One hand pressed against the glass, Sam could do nothing but watch on in horror.
There was no way of knowing from this distance whether any of Sam’s friends were the dandelion seeds being thrown about on the street below. The live TV footage didn’t help either. It was focused on the police rather than the injured. At least, Sam hoped they were only injured.
Above the water’s roar, the screams and pops of the riot guns continued like a Discordian symphony as Sam forced their shaking legs to carry them back to the desk.
After interviewing thousands of people from all across the country and political spectrum, I have concluded that those committing the atrocities we have seen increasingly over the last few years are, for the most part, not bad people. They love their family. They want much the same things most other people want: a safe and happy community, good friends, a rewarding career and nutritious food on the table. But they have been forced by politicians and oligarchs to choose between valuing the equal humanity of others or their immediate family’s ability to survive and prosper under late-stage neo-liberal capitalism.
They chose the latter.
Americans have also been fed the lie that benefiting from systems and structures built on racism, misogyny and other forms of bigotry is not a problem as long as they, themselves, are not actively a bigot. The corollary is that those calling for such structures to be demolished are the actual threat and, therefore, of lower worth in US society. This has led once-reasonable people towards justifying marginalising and discriminatory attitudes and behaviours even while they convince themselves of their own innate fairness.
More shots rang out, but these sounded different. They were quicker, a dull rat-tat-tat instead of the riot gun pop. A fresh wave of screams closely followed them.
Sam froze, their mind warring between needing to know what was happening and not wanting confirmation that it had gotten as bad as those sounds suggested.
Their whole body trembling, bile rising in their throat, Sam reached for the TV remote, pressed the power button, then forced themself to continue typing.
Chapter 2: 9 November 2027
The Walkley Awards for Excellence in Journalism: Gold Walkley
Journalist: Sam Hernandez
Title: “Modern American Values”
Publication: ABC
This emotionally charged yet rationally constructed piece of journalism has had far-reaching impacts on the Australian public’s understanding of the factors influencing the de-democratisation of the USA. Based on a deep and sustained investigation covering thousands of interviews with everyday Americans to explore changing community standards across the nation, the final result was impassioned while refraining from being accusatory. The setting, written while observing the 2026 Black Monday Protests in New York that resulted in 53 deaths and injured over 1300 people, lent additional gravitas to the work.
Mx Hernandez’s articulation of modern US political and law enforcement ethics in the format of an equation for the value of a human life cleverly demonstrated how the over-reliance on rationality and ostensibly logical thought ignores the emotional importance of each person’s existence. This novel approach has reverberated through Australian public life, including appearing in an advocacy campaign calling for a reckoning on how Australians value life and calls for it to be applied by anti-discrimination bodies seeking to structure efforts towards building social cohesion.
Mx Hernandez is a former war correspondent and has been the ABC’s North America correspondent since 2023. They have previously won two Walkley Awards for reporting on the war in Syria and the Horn of Africa Hunger Crisis.
This is the 2026 Gold Walkley winning piece. The story also won the categories for International Journalism and Explanatory Journalism.
Judges’ comments:
“Hernandez’ exploration of the dark turn of US politics through the development of a formula for the value of a human life crystallised the issue for many Australians struggling to comprehend how such events were happening in the modern West. It has both informed readers and enabled them to make sense of a chaotic and unsettling turn of events, which is a cornerstone of good journalism.
We also applaud the ABC for its willingness to run this piece despite knowing the controversy that would result and its potential impact on future funding.”
Chapter 3: 20 April 2029
Transcript: The Right’s Might podcast, episode 163
Alex: Hello, my fellow red-blooded, freedom-loving American patriots! It’s Alex here—
Frank: And Frank!
Alex: —and you’re listening to “The Right’s Might”!
Frank: The podcast where we bring you the unfiltered truth about the greatest country on God’s green Earth—the U. S. of A!
Alex: Now Frank, what’s on that mind of yours today?
Frank: Well, buddy, I’ll tell ya—I’ve been goin’ through some of the insane garbage from those loony leftists again, and man, I tell you, they need to learn how to read! I mean, these people have absolutely NO idea how to see past their own nonsense! They just parrot whatever they’re fed, believing it all like it’s the word of God Almighty instead of actually THINKING about it.
Alex: Sounds like standard greater gooder bullcrap to me. But give us an example, Frank. What kind of claptrap are they spewing today?
Frank: Alright, so, someone recently dropped a comment on the episode we did about how great the increased funding for police and prisons has been—
Alex: I loved that episode! Just thinking about all those extra scum behind bars and off our streets made me feel extra patriotic!
Frank: Me too, buddy! Anyway, this comment was about this Australian journalist called Hernandez, who came up with that equation you might have heard about for the value of a human life here in America.
Alex: Hold up, hold up—wasn’t this Hernandez guy one of those gender weirdos? I think I read that somewhere.
Frank: Well, that’s what the binary bashers say, because of course they need him to be part of the whole alphabet soup agenda or something else against God. They’re always trying to make people fit their narrative. Makes it easier to shove their agenda down everyone’s throat.
Alex: (laughs) You got that right, Frank.
Frank: But here’s the kicker. All these bright-hair brigade types spout this guy’s work and use his equation to try to justify tearing down traditional American values. So I figured, “Alright, let’s see what all the fuss is about” and I read the article with this formula. And I swear, the loony leftists have gotten it all wrong!
Alex: Why am I not surprised?
Frank: Right? So, the article kicks off with Hernandez talking about how people throughout history have put a dollar value on a human life, which he thinks is weird.
Alex: I don’t know, Frank. I’ve certainly seen some ladies with a very clear dollar value, if you know what I mean! (laughs)
Frank: (laughs) Can’t argue with that, Alex! And you know what they say—you get what you pay for!
Frank: Anyway, It sounds like this Hernandez guy is calling out the system, but you’ve gotta keep reading. Next, he talks about how police and politicians have their own way of figuring out the value of a person’s life. He compares it to this equation that some genius astrophysicist called Drake came up with to figure out the chances we’ll ever talk to aliens.
Alex: Since he’s that smart, I’m guessing Drake’s American?
Frank: Damn right, he is! God bless the US!
Alex: God bless the US! Amen.
Frank: Anyway, Hernandez comes up with this super complicated formula about how to calculate the value of a life here in America. He admits he can’t make sense of all the factors in his own equation, but here’s the kicker—he says our police and politicians CAN!
Alex: So let me get this straight, Frank. The police, the ones these binary bashers love to trash—they’re the real geniuses here? They can do these super complex calculations in their head and make these critical, life-or-death decisions on a dime? Just like that?
Frank: Exactly! He says that our law enforcement and politicians, and I quote, “are able to make these decisions in a split second, to determine what they deem a reasonable response based on the value they place on the life of a person or group of people.”
Alex: Wow, that sounds like a big-headed elitist right there!
Frank: (laughs) Yeah, dude spent too much time in college and not enough at the bar!
Alex: (laughs)
Frank: But yeah, Hernandez basically praises the police for it, but the commie cattle can’t see that because they’re too busy drinking the Kool-Aid!
Alex:(laughs) Guess they can’t handle the truth, can they, Frank?
Frank: Leftists? Never! They’re too stuck in their bubbles! What makes it even more clear that Hernandez actually loves America is that, later in the article, he describes what REAL Americans value: their families, a safe community, close friends, a fulfilling career and good, nutritious food.
Alex: Isn’t that what we all want, Frank? Isn’t that why we’re proud, card-carrying Republicans? Isn’t that why we’re here, doing what we do every week for all you listeners? That’s what it means to be a true, red-blooded American.
Frank: Darn right, Alex!
Alex: And speaking of nutrition, folks—if you want to feel the real might of America in your veins, check out our newest supplement, “The Right’s Mightiest,” now with HGH for that extra edge!
Click to read more.
Chapter 4: 6 January 2031
I will not go gentle into that good night
The world wants men like me to be quiet, to watch silently, meekly as it decays into a cesspit of communism, as the white race gets polluted and we drown, drawn further away from God’s path. But I will not go gentle in the night. I will rage against the dying of the light!
I am not afraid to die. For, near death, I see with the blinding light. I see my true purpose: to rid the Earth of as many of those befoulers as I can, thereby giving my life meaning by improving humanity.
Those scum who have brought their DEI agenda into our schools, who have polluted our children’s minds with their homosexual ways, who have convinced women that they have no need of men, and convinced the weak men that they are actually women. “For the greater good,” they say, as they have broken down the very pillars of our society and trodden on the core values of our community.
Meanwhile, worthy men like me are ignored, mocked, told we have no place in their new world order.
These parasites must be removed.
As Samuel Hernandez wrote, it is possible to place value on a human life. I’ve done the maths, and these degenerates are bringing that value down, debasing our species! By eliminating as many of them as possible, I will be doing the world a favour. I will be improving the value of the human race, helping future generations reach our true potential.
Each one of them deserves to die. Whether they are black, hispanic, disabled, homo, immigrant, muslim, jew or criminal: by the Hernandez equation, they are all lesser beings. Even those race traitors who join them devalue themselves and our great white race by turning their backs on our traditions.
Everyone with a score under 0.88 must go so the white race can survive. So we can succeed without fear of their pollution. We must protect our women and children from their filth, both in our communities and in our gene pool.
We have tried reasoning with them. We have tried locking them up. We have tried kicking them out. But still they come like plagues of locusts to feed off the largesse of our great nation. They steal our jobs and our women, then laugh as they leave their corrupt spawn to continue their legacy of destruction while they enjoy their riches back in their cesspit home countries.
They mock us!
I will bear this no longer. This is our country. Our land! Our rights!
I will make them feel the pain they have given us. I will laugh as they scream, just as they have laughed at all the damage they have wrought on our once-great nation. I will praise God as I remove the corruption from the perfect race He created. And I will smile as I die, knowing that I will meet my Creator soon and receive my just rewards.
Fellow American men, join me! Do not go gentle into that good night. Instead, pick up your guns, embrace what it means to be American, and join me! Let us die fighting like the Confederates of old, fighting for our land, our country, our race, our children and our women.
I go now to lead the first charge.
In God we trust.
Chapter 5: 29 July 2033
A pretty young woman beamed from the TV. Not a hair was out of place in her blonde bob, and her red lipstick popped against her perfect teeth, pale skin and beige silk blouse.
“We start tonight’s bulletin with a fiery speech from Brian Wright, leader of the Traditional Freedoms Party, as he accepted his party’s nomination for President at the upcoming election,” she said, voice clipped and peppy.
The footage shifted to a tall, middle-aged man standing behind a podium. His rugged jaw was emphasised on his right side by a knotted scar that ran behind his ear. His brown hair, beginning to be flecked with grey, was cropped short in a military style. Although he wore a well-tailored black suit and crimson tie, his stance spoke of a soldier standing at ease. Upon his puffed-out chest, coloured metal pins glittered in the bright stadium lights.
With only the barest hint of a smile, the man moved closer to a podium covered with a black cloth upon which was printed the Traditional Freedoms Party logo: two white fasces crossing at right angles in front of a red circle.
“My fellow patriots,” he boomed in a deep baritone.
He was interrupted by loud cheers, and the footage moved to a crowd of thousands of adoring fans, many holding black and white signs reading “Wright is Right!”.
After a few moments, the camera moved back to Wright, showing him sharply raising a hand, palm forward. The cheers stopped almost immediately.
“Today, I accept your nomination to run for President of our great nation.”
Another raucous round of applause, which Wright again allowed for a few moments before silencing the crowd.
“As your President, I will lead our people back to greatness—the greatness of our historic might, our rightful place among nations!” His facial expression barely shifted, making him seem almost carved from rock, but a fire in his eyes burned from the screen.
“For too long, our leaders have betrayed us, allowing foreign influences to taint the soul of our beloved nation and of our people. We have become devalued by the rot of the political class, by the incursion of outsiders who seek to drain our prosperity. This corruption has eroded our strength, stifled our success and poisoned the very core of our communities.
“I say to you now: I will not allow this to continue!”
His voice boomed, the reverberations of his stentorian tone throughout the stadium audible through the TV speakers.
More cheers. This time, the crowd began chanting, “Wright is right!” The leader allowed this to continue for five cycles before raising his hand.
“Under my leadership,” Wright continued, the footage once more close upon his face, “we will return to reason and efficiency, cutting off the weak hand of bureaucracy and severing the bonds that have made us dependent on foreign powers. Through sound and proven economic policy, we will build a self-sufficient state, one no longer subjugated to the whims of foreign interests who have bribed their way into the pockets of our elected officials.
Interspersed footage of the crowd showed them hanging onto his every word.
“We will return to a society of values, one where the depravity of the spectrum socialists is removed from our education system, where children are no longer brought up believing falsehoods and taught to debase themselves and apologise for supposed sins they never committed.”
With another outcry of cheers, the camera zoomed in on a little boy in the front row. About seven years old and with blue eyes trained devotedly upon the Presidential nominee, he was waving a sign that read, ‘Purity of spirit, purity of purpose, purity of our people!’.
When the camera moved back to Wright, he had lifted his right hand from his side and now held it claw-like in front of him.
“We shall cleanse this nation.” The claw tightened.
We shall remove”—a quick, chopping motion—”those who, through weakness or treachery,”—sharp jabs of his forefinger on the black-clad podium—”would see our people devalued. We shall rebuild the pillars of strength upon which our history and future rest!” He finished with his hands slightly out to either side, palms facing the camera, a pose not unlike Jesus on the crucifix.
The cheers were quieter, almost reverential. As the camera panned across the crowd, no few heads were bowed as if in prayer.
When the footage returned to Wright, he had assumed the at-ease stance, but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.
“This return will not be easy,” he intoned. “Those who seek to profit from our weakness will fight us. We must actively safeguard and nurture our strength. This nation must become a fortress of vigour, purged of weakness wherever it may be hiding.”
He raised a finger as if about to share a secret.
“The corrupt political elites would have you believe that our strength lies within our systems, but we know better—it lies within each citizen who embraces this great movement, each loyal supporter of our cause.
“We must harness this power and do all we can to strengthen it. We must cultivate a citizenry of strength, of purity, of the virtues our forefathers bestowed upon us!”
More devoted cheers. This time, Wright allowed a small smile to cross his face.
“This is not mere rhetoric; it is our plan. By following the path to increased human value laid forth by Samuel Hernandez, the Traditional Freedoms Party will systematically bring our populace back to our former greatness. We will once more be a nation of citizens who value ourselves and each other, and strive always to be better, for the sake of humanity.”
Puffing his chest out slightly more, Wright raised a fist clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand stood out. Eyes that had once seemed afire now blazed an inferno even through the TV screen.
“Together, we will build an indomitable future. Together, we will make our nation prosperous once again!”
The footage shifted abruptly back to the pretty young newsreader in her brightly lit TV set.
“So inspiring,” she exclaimed, her blue eyes gleaming.
“Next, to the latest attack from gender radicals on our schools.”
Chapter 6: 1 March 2038
Constitutional preamble
Having endured the fires of division with unwavering resolve and heroic courage, and created a fraternity bound by the noble desire for freedom and prosperity, we hereby exercise our human right to shape our destinies and proclaim the sovereign nation of Carnaro.
The Government of Carnaro has been established to protect its citizens, and to safeguard the hard-won independence and sacred lands that have been achieved by their valiant efforts through war and struggle.
Having triumphed over every attack, whether by force or fraud, and driven by the unyielding will to renew and fortify our people in liberty and justice, the inhabitants of Carnaro stand determined to forge a nation that elevates humanity through the deliberate achievement of the highest possible value of human life.
The people of Carnaro pledge to fight with their whole strength against any who attempt to separate them from their land or to compromise their sovereign right to cultivate a citizenry of strength, virtue and excellence in accordance with the teachings of the great prophets Wright and Hernandez, along with our other forefathers.
To all neighbouring communities who share in our dream of a purified human race and seek to rise in freedom alongside us, we offer a path toward shared emancipation from depravity and deviance.
With unshakeable resolve, the Government of Carnaro has thus declared the following Constitution as the supreme law of our nation.
Angel Hellyer 
Leave a comment