Dec. 27: We are a village

 I have this idea for a novel where the government suddenly decides that society's biggest problem is overcrowding. Sprawling metropolises like New York City and Los Angeles do nothing but fester crime and loneliness. The solution is to outlaw big cities and randomly reassign everyone to different villages spread throughout the continent. Today, you could be a resident of Atlanta. Tomorrow, you and your spouse are packing your bags en route to your new home, Marchandville, a village between Port Hope and what was once known as Toronto.

Like so many of my ideas, this one stalled at the concept phase. It's a bit like Kurt Vonnegut, who explored a similar premise in Slapstick, but I have to admit that the premise intrigues me. The sudden shift in geography would be good for so many of us, though it would upset a few.

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Let's take some imaginary guy in New York City - we'll call him Leon. He's not well educated, came from a broken home, drug addict. He can't find meaningful work, has no real interests, and survives on petty crime. 

New York City is so big that Leon can make himself invisible; he's just another face in an ocean of faces. But now he's whisked away to Laurenville and now, he's one of 3,000 instead of one of three million. Someone WILL notice him. Someone WILL befriend him. And this might be the positive change that Leon needs.

Laurenville might not be very good for the Wall Street tycoon who's grossing a million dollars a day, but we think he'll be able to get by.

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Here comes the wrecking ball. Bye bye to the Statue of Liberty and the Alamo. Everything is getting paved over and we are starting over again. It will be the best of times and the worst of times.

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If I were to write such a novel, I would have to focus on one family being torn asunder by this new policy. Forced to live on other sides of the country because Uncle Sam said so, they'd communicate through letters and emails and social media, presuming, of course, that those weren't interrupted by this massive paradigm shift.

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It's been a year since Leon moved to Laurenville and he is doing just fine. He's kicked the drug habit - hard to find a dealer here, anyway - and has found good rewarding work on a farm. He tends to crops and livestock and, at the end of the day, knows he plays an integral role in feeding people, in helping them survive.

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In Slapstick, Vonnegut imagined a society where everyone was randomly assigned a new surname and number (up to 20.) So if you're name is Jamie Forrest, you might suddenly become Jamie Forrest Daffodil-19. If your name is Oomfoofoo Boobooland, your new name might be Oomfoofoo Boobooland Thundercloud-7.

Anyone whose last name was also Daffodil or Thundercloud was to be regarded as a relative. If they shared the same number as well as surname, they were to be regarded as direct blood relations, like a sister or father or brother.

Like Slapstick, the concept of my novel depends on a ultra rosy view of human nature. We'd have to assume that human beings would cooperate with these new rules and would not rebel against them. We are xenophobic by nature and few of us would appreciate Big Brother telling us whom to fear and whom to embrace.

So yes, I know it wouldn't work in the real world, but most fiction is like that. In real life, no one will let you talk uninterrupted for more than 30 seconds. In real life, people stumble over their words. In real life, not everyone is beautiful. In real life, you don't find the love of your life at Christmas and spend the whole month of December in a red sweater. In real life, the thieves will tie the 10-year-old up in the basement while they pilfer the house. 

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Still, the concept of a massive change like the one I describe above would be exhilarating. To be sure, it would spell the death of the National Hockey League and Broadway and Hollywood and Dancing With The Stars and Wal Mart. We would become an agrarian society again. 

And there is no way the whole charade would last unless it was vigorously enforced, but now and then, it's fun to shake the snowglobe and pretend that the villages are doing just fine.