Forest Commune Ch 01

"Congratulations. You made it past the selection stage for the Forward Future Commune! Please respond to this email quickly so we can introduce you to our way of life and our community. We look forward to having you with us!"

James smiled as he read the email. He quickly typed out a response, setting up his tour for Friday afternoon, just three days away. He felt genuine joy for the first time in a few years.

As with everyone, the last few years for James were tumultuous. The fabric of society seemed to be tearing before everyone's eyes, and not enough people seemed to care. Too many people want to keep the status quo, rather than help each other and make things better for the people around them and the future. He was done. His mental health was on the verge of shattering, until he found out about the Forward Future Commune.

The Forward Future Commune seemed to hold the same ideals of community, acceptance, and understanding that James came to conceptualize over the last few years. He began corresponding with the social media manager, who directed him to apply for an opening when their next batch of cabins were built. After three interviews with the selection panel, as well as a background check and a clean bill of health, he eagerly awaited the reply.

The commune was in the mountains on the other side of the state, about a 6 hour drive. James left at about 8 for his 3 o'clock meetup time, taking into account coffee and pee breaks. He had a suitcase and a backpack, enough of his stuff for the first week, before he would go back and get the rest of his stuff and clean his apartment for good.

James pulled into the gas station at 2:58, just in time. He jogged into the convenience store and right to the bathroom, barely getting his fly open before his bladder released. When he walked back outside he saw a truck with two people leaning against the hood next to his car. He recognized one of them as Ricky, one of the people that was interviewing him over video chat. The other person slapped his arm when they saw James approach.

"James! Nice to see you again. I thought you were running a little behind, but I guess I picked the right car to park next to."

James reached out to shake Ricky's hand. "Nah. I just really had to pee." James took a deep breath in. "It's been too long since I've been in the mountains. I almost forgot how nice it smells out here."

"It really is the loveliest part of the state, and it helps us with our purpose. And this here with me is Lambda. They're one of our farmers who had an afternoon free to help escort you in."

Lambda reached out their hand and said, "It's nice to meet you James."

"You too." James was bubbling with excitement to begin the next chapter of his life.

"Well," Ricky started, "We should get going so we can get you settled before dinner."

The three of them piled into their cars and started snaking into the mountains. It was no wonder they wanted to meet at the gas station; with all the twists and turns it was easy to get lost. 20 miles and almost an hour later, they pulled onto a dirt road. After a brief wall of trees, they came to a gate. Ricky leaned out and swiped a card against a panel while Lambda got out of the cab. Ricky pulled through as the gate went up, and Lambda held up their hand to James to have him stop. The gate came back down rather quickly and Lambda swiped their own card and had James pull forward as she slipped through too.

Ricky was still driving, so James unlocked his passenger door for Lambda and they got in. James got his first good look at Lambda. They were wearing simple work boots and looser jeans, both of which had the obvious wear and tear that he imagined farming would give. They had on a red flannel and a beanie on, both of which were well-represented in the Pacific Northwest.

James started driving through the open field that began after the gate. "So, what's it like here?" James asked Lambda. "Like, Really? You know, like when you get a new job and it seems great for a few weeks, but then the cracks start to appear. So what are the cracks here?"

"It seems too much like a paradise, right?"

"Yeah, it really does. I'm skeptical, but I also haven't gotten any bad vibes either."

Lambda chuckled. "That's fair. The world is shit, and people are shitty too. We have our problems. The work is tough, and we have to work really hard to make sure we both keep up on our chores, while also not overdoing other projects. We have disagreements. We are not a monoculture, but we do have the same baseline goals, so we work it out."

"And what are those goals?"

"The same as you, otherwise you wouldn't have been invited."

James gave a quick little glare before rounding a corner and seeing a few greenhouses. "Look, for all I know I could be the unsuspecting chump that is willingly giving himself over to a cult to be sacrificed on the equinox, or some shit like that."

Lambda nodded in James' peripherals. "Yeah, I get it. But it is a two-way street too. You can be an FBI agent working towards some COINTELPRO bullshit, or one of the right-wingers who hates anyone that isn't like them. Or you can just be a creep who wants to take advantage of a group who is welcoming. We have had to kick people out before, you know.

"There's a lot of trust that goes into this place. You have to trust the people already here just as much as we have to trust you. We've refined our selection process as much as we could, but the best way to earn each other's trust is to just be ourselves." James rounded another corner and smiled as the rest of the buildings came into view. He pulled under a pavilion next to Ricky. "Trust me, you'll like it here."

Lambda winked as they turned to get out of the car. James turned off the engine and stretched, happy to be here at last. He noticed a few people doing chores around the buildings, the sound of hammers pounding in the distance, and solar panels on every roof.

Someone approached the cars from one building that was a bit bigger than the others. "Hey, I'm Gregor."

"Ah yes," James said. "The leader of this place."

"Not leader. Founder. And part of the welcoming committee. Come on into our community building and we'll go over the rules."

Gregor led James into the building he came out of earlier. The inside was like a clubhouse at a fancy apartment complex. There were a few computers set up for use by anyone, as well as a large projector with video game consoles. Two people looked up from playing Mario Kart.

"Lucia, Chance, this is James, the new member of our community."

"Hey," said Lucia, trying to focus on the road.

"What's up?" Chance boomed.

"Hello," James squeaked, starting to feel overwhelmed.

Gregor brought them around the corner, where there was a drink station set up, complete with teas and coffees. "This is our community center. We obviously care a lot about our members getting the downtime they need to be sane. Everyone is welcome here, obviously. Feel free to snag a drink if you want." James found a cup and filled it with some iced tea from the fridge.

"Around the corner here are a couple bathrooms. You never want to run back to your cabin in the middle of a game session or a movie or anything."

"Question," James said. "So, how preachy are you about consumerism here? I mean, you have all those TVs and consoles, I assume you have streaming services and all that stuff."

"Good question. The short answer is we're not preachy. Long answer: We all know that there's no ethical consumption under capitalism, but if we were to cut off all the media, all the fandoms, all the books, all the music, etcetera, then we would be depressed husks that are just crowding around the fire singing crappy hymns every night. It's a paradox, and we're aware of that."

"That's fair. I appreciate your honesty. I agree, we shouldn't automatically revert back to the 1800s. We should be working to help those around us not be swept away while making progress."

"That's a good mentality to have. I think you'll do just fine here. Here's my office." Gregor opened a door to a relatively small room.

Inside was a simple desk with a computer, printer, a couple pieces of stationary, a chair on each side, and a bookshelf that had, noticeably, mostly sci-fi and fantasy books. It was obvious to James that Gregor hated paperwork and only did it out of necessity.

"Well," Gregor began as he sat down, "We don't exactly like to tell people how to live their lives, as you can tell. We keep the rules simple, just enough to keep this place running and keeping each other safe.

"The first rule is that we all work. We work towards self-sustainability. We work to lift each other up. We do not overwork ourselves. We input what we can based on what our capabilities are. We all tire out from time to time, and there is no punishment because of that. Instead, someone else will step in to help out. Now, you said you were a line cook before?"

"Yeah. I did a range of restaurants, from fast food to steakhouses."

"60, 70 hour weeks?"

"Of course. It sucks, but I put up with it because I love cooking."

"Yeah that sucks. It's a tactic to break down workers so they don't have the energy to organize. They wear you down. They pay you just enough to get by, but rarely enough to save up or move up a station." Gregor took a sip from his water bottle. "Here we do three days on your main job, one day learning another job, three days off. We have weekly meetings to map out the needs of our community and go from there. Are you still wanting to stick with cooking?"

"Uh, yeah. I think that would be best. I don't know if I have any other skills that would be useful here."

"We can move you around for your fourth day and see what works. Now, the second rule is pretty simple: Don't be a dick. We're open to all genders and sexual orientations, monogamous, polyamorous, asexual, whatever. We're open to all races, nationalities, and cultures. We believe that expanding our world views are best for everyone, so we can connect to others better and be more empathetic to struggles in other parts of the world. We have no tolerance for racism, sexism, or bigotry of any kind. But, you also would not have made it this far if we caught any on our checks."

"How is religion viewed here?" James asked out of curiosity. "I don't have any affiliation myself, but with the history of organized religion, how do you deal with it here?"

"A great question. While most of us are atheist, unaffiliated as you put it, we do have a few people with various beliefs. Our only rule is to not push it on others. We encourage others to talk about their belief systems, but you won't be seeing any services here.

"Our third rule is more conceptual, but it is probably the most important rule. We have to have top-notch security culture."

"Security culture?"

"Security culture. Too many people hate us just for being us, for being inclusive, for not conforming to society. There have been coordinated attacks by the government and corporate elites for at least 150 years. We prove that we do not need them, and they are fearful that their precious power structure will crumble when people see that. As such, we do not want to provoke the government into any actions against us. We are a legally incorporated entity, and we pay taxes - we'll explain our money situation later. The point is, we do not want a couple dozen stormtroopers dropping in from helicopters because we were too bull-headed. As principled as we want to be, we also have to recognize the limits of the system that is in place. So please, don't post anything online that would get the authorities called on us."

James just nodded along, well aware of these dangers.

"The second half is a bit more tricky. We have to navigate around the non-governmental groups and individuals." James stared a little blankly and Gregor continued. "The rhetoric of the right wing for the last 50 years has convinced a lot of people that it is essentially their duty to kill what they see as 'commies.' While we're not exactly communist, we do live on a commune and have varying leftist ideologies. They hate us, and they are dangerous, well-armed, and erratic. That is why we have the gate out front, and there's not really a way around it. We also got a hold of some pressure sensors and cameras, just in case. We haven't had any tensions since last year, but we do have a security team just in case."

"Oh man," was all James could get out.

"Luckily everything has been able to be diffused without violence, and we have people in town to seed ideas of tolerance into some of the locals. Also, Ricky is a local. He's a good kid. Really helped us a lot when we were getting stable in the first year. But again, there hasn't been any issues for a bit and we don't see anymore happening.

"Our next rule is for inebriation. No handing out anything to anyone under 18 here, which will be easy since we currently have no minors. We don't really monitor pot and alcohol on a day to day basis, but will watch out for your overall health, like if we suspect you start to slip into alcoholism. For the harder stuff, well, have a sober friend watch over you. Have a trip buddy in case it's a bad trip. Test your drugs for contaminants and have narcan nearby. You can have a good time while still being safe."

"Ok that's pretty easy for me. I just drink and occasionally have some edibles," James stated.

"Some people might ask you if you want to drop some acid or take some shrooms, but they'll honor it if you say you don't want any."

"Sounds like a pretty good time here."

"It is, but now for the fun rule. While we are not a free use, anyone fucks anyone everywhere kind of place, we are quite open with each other and there is a good amount of fucking. Rule number five: Consent above all else. That's pretty obvious, right?"

"Oh, totally," James replied.

"Good. We have some more specifics too. First, we don't let anyone above 25 have sex with anyone between 18 and 21. We decided that there is too much of a power imbalance, and that the younger adults should explore with people close to their own age. You said you're 28, right?"

"Yeah. I understand that rule. I haven't really thought about that power dynamic thing before, but yeah it makes sense."

"Good. It's really just to make sure nobody is taken advantage of. We've had to kick people out that think this is just a sex free-for-all here. That being said, there is pretty much every sexuality and gender represented here. Make friendships and connections, then if you get laid, you get laid."

"So just focus on being myself and people will like me? Sounds easy enough."

"Everyone thinks so, but the society we were raised in has so many little things that imbed inside of you and you can't always pin them down. But we'll let you know if you make anyone uncomfortable. Communication between members is key to our success."

Gregor looked up at a clock on the wall. "Ah! It's after 6. Time to get dinner. Follow me!"

***

Gregor led James out of the community building and over to a larger building. Inside was another drink station, as well as a long table on one side of the wall with a few chafing dishes and salad bowls. The middle of the room had tables set up, where a few people were already eating and having conversations.

Just then one of the double doors by the food table swung open. An attractive latina woman came out carrying a tray of the best looking garlic bread James had ever seen.

"Damn. Do you always eat this good here?" James asked.

Gregor smiled. "Isabel really is a culinary genius. She's passionate about her craft, as well as our mission. Hell, her grandpa even helped the Zapatistas in their early years. You'll be working with her quite a bit. Let's go see what she made today. Isabel!"

Isabel looked over and smiled. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, obviously working hard to feed the members of the community. "Hey Gregor. Is this the new guy?"

"Yeah. This is James. He's actually a line cook and wants to be assigned to the kitchen."

James offered his hand to her and smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

Isabel took his hand. "We'll see how long you last under my rule."

Gregor leaned over. "She's not actually scary at all."

Isabel grinned and gave a wink. "Let's get some food in you and we'll chat about our kitchen. Grab a plate."

She led James through the table, pointing out her creations. Today was rigatoni pasta with either a traditional bolognese or a vegan mushroom and eggplant bolognese. The salad was a radicchio and frisee mixture with almonds and a honey balsamic dressing. Upon closer inspection there was both garlic bread, as well as one made with vegan butter. They really did make sure they covered everybody here.

James sat down with the vegan option, since it was new and intriguing. Isabel and Gregor joined on either side of him, and shortly Lambda sat down too. "So, how do you like it so far?" they asked.

"Well the food is fantastic," James said after swallowing. "That alone could keep me here. And it looks like I'll be learning Isabel's secrets."

Isabel beamed at the compliment. "I'm flattered, but there are no secrets with me. Food is a basic right for everyone. I want to make sure everyone is taken care of, not just here. I share my recipes online for free, as well as tips to keep costs down."

"That's commendable. I'll be happy to work with you." James took a bite of his garlic bread. "Gregor, I have a question for you."

"Yeah? "

"What's with the name? The Forward Future Commune? Honestly it doesn't sound that great."

Gregor chuckled to himself, but Lambda burst into uncontrollable hysterics.

"You see," Gregor began, "there's never going to be a good name for a commune. It's just not possible. They are always going to sound hokey in some way or another. We wanted it to show that this was what we envisioned for the future for society. But we also didn't want to alienate any specific group of leftists."

"Except the tankies," Isabel chimed in.

"Yes, fuck the tankies."

"What's a tankie?" James asked.

"Oh, they're annoying little shits that'll say objectively bad people, like Stalin, Assad, and sometimes even Pol Pot are actually good. Their only reason is that those people are postured against the United States. Like, hello, both sides are oppressing their people, just in different ways."

A tall black man approached the table, plate in hand. "Are you guys already starting rumors with the new guy?" He asked in a southern drawl.

"Hey Darnell," Isabel said. "Just talking about tankies."

"Man, fuck those guys. Can't stand them. Let's talk about something more uplifting. What was your name again?"

"James. Nice to meet you." He reached over and shook Darnell's hand.

"And what music do you listen to, James?"

"Uh, mostly metal, a good bit of punk, some pop punk and classic rock occasionally."

"All good choices. I'm more of an oldies kind of guy. Give me some Sam Cooke and Etta James any day of the week and I'm happy."

The meal continued on as James got to know his new community. Eventually people started to filter out of the cafeteria and Gregor said, "Lambda, why don't you show James to his cabin so he can settle in."

"Sure thing." Lambda got up and showed James where the bus tubs were to put his dishes in.

They went out a back door and James saw rows of small cabins; most were complete, but a few were definitely being built at the end of the rows. They stopped in front of the last finished cabin in the grid.

"Here we are, big boy. Lucky number 21." Lambda opened the door to the cozy living space. It was modest, yet comfortable, with two reclining chairs, a small table with two chairs, a kitchenette with a small fridge and two burners, and a hallway leading to the bedrooms.