They decide they`re `sweaty from work` and need to bathe in the river. Naked, of course.

Earth: Osage River watershed: 5250 AD.

"Well damn, there goes my afternoon nap," Anahere grumbles as she slowly makes her way to the door, her 77-year-old joints protesting the movement. Opening it, she manages a wry smile. "Ah, Nancy and Robert—my favorite power couple. What brings you two lovebirds to my doorstep today? Please tell me I didn't forget we had something scheduled."

"Oh no, nothing like that," Nancy says quickly. "But we were hoping to discuss a few things before the next community council meeting. You know me—I like to be prepared for everything. You're looking wonderful, by the way. Seriously, what's your secret to staying so young?"

"Nancy, always the smooth talker," Anahere chuckles, stepping aside to let them in. "I look exactly like what I am—old. And I'm perfectly fine with that, because I *am* old." She calls over her shoulder, "Jennie, could you put some tea on for our guests?" Then, settling into her chair, she looks at them expectantly. "So, what's really on your minds?"

"Well," Nancy begins, her expression growing more serious, "as you know, my daughter and your granddaughter Jennie are practically inseparable. And I'm sure you've heard about what happened down by the river this past Marsday evening. Our girls were right in the middle of it, and frankly, I don't think we've properly addressed the situation. I'd like to propose some community guidelines to make sure nothing like this happens again."

"Unfortunate event?" Anahere can't help but laugh out loud. "The way you're talking, someone would think there'd been a tragedy. Look, I already sat down with both Jennie and Janice about the whole thing."

"And that's it?" Robert interjects, leaning forward. "Those boys need to face some real consequences. I know your background in sociology might make you hesitant about punishment, but come on—this is pretty straightforward. We can't just let this kind of behavior slide."

"Can't let it slide?" Anahere's laughter comes harder this time, echoing through the room. "Look, I don't want to be disrespectful here, but you two are being absolutely ridiculous about this. Let me tell you what actually happened, since clearly the story's gotten a bit twisted in the retelling."

"The girls were walking back from their gathering work and decided to rest by the river. Now, they knew perfectly well they were supposed to be home before dark, but they could hear those boys having their little party up on the hill—you know how sound carries. So naturally, being teenage girls, they decided to linger around, hoping to catch the boys' attention.

Well, it got dark, and they could see the campfire flickering up there, hear all the singing and whooping and general carrying-on, but still—nothing. The boys hadn't even noticed them. So what do our clever girls do? They decide they're 'sweaty from work' and need to bathe in the river. Naked, of course.

*That* certainly got the boys' attention! The hooting and hollering cranked up about ten notches, and naturally a few of them started scrambling down the hill to get a better look. At which point our 'innocent' girls went running home, screaming and squealing, clutching their clothes to their chests, bare bottoms flashing in the moonlight like they were putting on some kind of show.

So tell me—who exactly should we be punishing here? The boys for doing what any red-blooded young man would do when presented with naked girls? The girls for getting naked when they knew damn well the boys were right there watching? Or maybe we should take it up with the universe itself for giving teenagers hormones in the first place?"

"You're missing the point entirely, Anahere," Nancy snaps back, clearly irritated by the older woman's amusement. "You know as well as I do that those boys are up to no good, running off into the woods at night, doing God knows what. What if one of them had actually caught up with the girls before they made it home safely? What then? Who knows what might have happened to those poor girls?"

"Nancy, I know these boys," Anahere replies, her tone growing more serious. "This is still a small community—we're all involved in raising all of our children. Teaching and guiding the next generation is our most sacred responsibility, and we don't take it lightly." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Those young men just got back from a trading expedition with the Tennessee River community. They brought back some fresh tobacco and a bit of whiskey, and they did what young men have done since the dawn of time—they celebrated.

Yes, they probably had a buzz going from the alcohol, but they're still the gentlemen we've raised them to be. Their most fundamental training, drilled into them from childhood, is to protect women and children—not exploit or harm them. Even if one of the boys had gotten carried away, the others would have shut him down immediately.

Sure, they would have laughed and pointed and embarrassed the girls as much as possible—but that's exactly the kind of attention the girls were fishing for! They wouldn't have hurt them, and you know what? All their girlfriends would have been giggling and jealous when they heard the story later. I think your fears are coming from memories of the old world—problems that simply don't exist in our community today. We don't need to punish our boys; we need to respect and honor them for being the decent young men we've raised them to be, even if they do get a little wild when they're celebrating in the woods."

"With all due respect, Anahere," Nancy says carefully, "I still think this needs to be addressed properly. It's true that we haven't had any incidents of rape or assault in our community, but shouldn't we be proactive? Why wait until something terrible happens when we could prevent it now?"

"'All due respect?'" Anahere laughs dryly. "That usually means no respect is actually due, especially when someone disagrees with my judgment. Fine. We'll convene an honor circle and discuss this as a gentle reminder to all our young people about the importance of not pushing boundaries, since you're so worried about what *might* happen."

"I'm not sure sitting the kids in a circle and telling them how wonderful they are really constitutes appropriate punishment," Robert says, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Well, I'm absolutely sure it's appropriate, because it works," Anahere responds firmly. "It's worked for thousands of years with the First Ones, and it works now. I know you old Earth Council types don't respect the process—all you see is kids 'getting away with' mischief while they make googly eyes at each other. But the honor circle is fundamental to our culture. It bonds our children to the broader community through mutual love and respect. And there's no way in hell I'm going to punish them for being perfectly normal teenagers.

If we punish them for being normal, the only thing we can expect is abnormal kids who live in shadows of secrets and shame. Let's bring it out into the open, show them our love and support, warn them about the real dangers of losing control, and then trust them to be the responsible young adults we've trained them to be. And who knows—by putting the boys and girls in the circle together, maybe Janice will finally catch herself a husband after all."

"I don't appreciate you characterizing our daughter as some boy-crazy teenager," Nancy replies stiffly, a hint of contempt flickering across her face. "She's not obsessed with finding a boyfriend like so many of the other girls. We've taken our parental responsibilities seriously and guided her to behave as a proper young woman should." She pauses, straightening in her chair. "We respect your position as leader of this community, and we'll abide by your decisions. But we'll also hold you responsible if things spiral out of control.

This blend you've created—mixing ancient indigenous culture with your vision of a developing modern society—it's complicated, and frankly, it's risky. Our community is growing rapidly, and this autocratic power structure won't survive much longer. It's time we start forming a proper council with real executive powers and begin serious discussions about alliances with other communities across the continent. I'd strongly recommend that you start accepting our advice and counsel on these matters instead of dismissing us like we're ignorant peasants. Yes, you're 32 years older than us in this lifetime, but remember—in our previous world, you were the one who needed guidance, and we graciously provided it. I think you owe us some consideration for that history."

"I do respect and honor your positions, both on the Council and as valued members of our community," Anahere replies evenly. "But I also see right through what you're doing here—your agenda is crystal clear. You want to recreate the old Earth Council exactly as it was, with yourselves back in the leadership roles you once held. The time for that simply isn't now.

We're barely out of the dark ages, people. We're an agricultural society with a handful of metal tools and basic utensils. Our most advanced technology is still *fire*. Yes, we carry the memories of a highly technological world in our minds, and we're frantically trying to get that knowledge down on paper—paper and ink we've only recently figured out how to make again. That's our primary mission, second only to raising our children: capturing everything we can remember, teaching it to the next generation, and giving this experiment in repopulation the strongest foundation possible.

So yes, I'm dismissive of your attempts to recreate the positions of status and authority you enjoyed in your previous lives. It's not because I don't respect your history or you as individuals—it's because the timing is completely wrong. Even if our lifespans in these bodies turn out to be over a hundred years, maybe even two hundred—the planet isn't nearly as toxic as it once was—the three of us will be long dead before the kind of political structure you're envisioning becomes appropriate.

Our focus needs to be on teaching our children, passing on the legacy of our experience so they can build the world that's right for *them*. So let's agree to disagree, without disrespect, and move forward with the important work we have today, in this lifetime. Let's leave the creation of planetary governments to our children, who'll be living in the world that actually needs them. This world, as it exists now, doesn't."

"I can see we're not going to make any progress with you on this topic," Robert says with resignation. "Moving on, then. Looking to the history and wisdom of the First Ones—the people you represent, who make up a significant portion of our population—I have to say this: This culture of honor and trust and love is beautiful, just as it was in the old times, before the indigenous peoples were confronted by colonial powers. But we all know how that ended. Those cultures were systematically destroyed by newcomers whose methods were ruthless and unforgiving.

So far, we've been incredibly fortunate on this planet. Our children have no concept of real scarcity, hunger, or danger from outsiders. But we all know this planet is capable of producing famine, floods, devastating storms, and worse. Even if we're spared here, these disasters could strike other communities. What happens when they start starving? Won't they look at our abundance and decide to take what they need by force?

I believe we need to consider creating a defensive force—a militia—so that when times of crisis come, we can protect what we've built. Our young men and women are trained as farmers, artists, and craftspeople. We teach them the science we remember, the history of who we once were, and how we came to be here again. But if we don't also teach them to fight, to defend what we have, all of this could be lost. Everything we've worked for could be taken away."

"You know what? You might actually be right about that," Anahere says, surprising them both with her smile. "And since you're the one who's identified the problem, you can be the one to solve it."

"Wait—are you being serious?" Robert asks, clearly taken aback.

Anahere's smile widens. "I come from a long line of warriors, Robert. I'm well aware of the potential problems that can arise when different groups compete for resources, and I understand that sometimes a defensive force becomes necessary. I don't think such a situation will develop in the immediate future, but it's wise to develop the knowledge and provide the training to create this militia of yours. It very well may become necessary someday.

I have only one requirement: as you teach our young people to fight when they must, you also teach them about the dangers of ego, pride, and hubris. Otherwise, we'll just be planting the seeds of the next great destruction of this planet."

"It would be my honor to establish a training school for our youth," Robert says, straightening up with obvious pride.

"Hold on there, Robert," Nancy interjects. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You don't actually have the skills to teach these kids what they'd need to know. What do you really know about weapons, tactics, or military training?"

"Nancy's right—you'll need help. But since you two are a team, I'm sure she'll assist you," Anahere says diplomatically. "I'll draw up the official papers to commission the school, and I'll make sure you get the support you need. Our blacksmiths have been working hard to improve the steel arrowheads for our archers—those make excellent short-range weapons. We don't have gunpowder or other explosives yet, but we do have fire, and fire can create steam, and pressurized steam can launch projectiles quite effectively.

The blacksmiths are actually developing a steam cannon for longer-range use. It's designed for hunting large game at a distance, but it should work well as a defensive weapon too. As for strategy and tactics, we have an expert available. I'll ask my father to help you with that side of things."

"Which father are you talking about?" Nancy asks curiously.

"My father Joshua," Anahere replies.

"You mean Crazy Josh who lives out in the woods? The one with all the young wives?" Robert asks skeptically.

"He's not crazy," Anahere laughs. "He just prefers enjoying his life in the forest without all the complications of community life. He's been a soldier in many lifetimes and has complete memory of his past lives, so his experience would be invaluable. I'm sure he'd love to help—he's a kind soul with deep wisdom, so he'd be excellent at instructing our children. I haven't seen him in years or met any of his current wives, but I assume many of the children we'd be training are probably his. That should give him extra motivation to contribute to the cause."

"I suppose he does have the right credentials," Nancy concedes. "But I've always wondered why he chose to come back here in the first place. He's an ascended being who achieved unity with the All That Is. What possible purpose could he have for living in human form again? It doesn't make sense to me."

"You'll have to ask him that question yourself," Anahere says. "Actually, I should go visit him—it's been far too long. I can make the trip in a few days if you want to come along. We can all sit down with the old man for a proper chat, even though he's technically younger than I am now. Bring your horse and wagon though—it's quite a trek into the deep forest."