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Chapter 243: Voting Rights

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"Danny," said Tucker, "I really, really need my parents for Egypt purposes."

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much the custody decision would affect them."

"To be fair, I don't think they did, either, but the Egyptians are getting antsy, Danny. I think they might kidnap me if I don't go. And my parents aren't going to be thrilled with that either."

The kidnapping threat, as minimal as it was, was honestly the least of Tucker's current problems. Beyond Danny's weighty, world-changing concerns (which Tucker was advising him on, something that frankly terrified him), Tucker was also trying to cope with the fact that he, too, was a sort of nobility, was apparently reincarnated, and was probably considered a god or demigod in a religion he only knew the rudiments of.

It wasn't a comfortable position. Even without the dreams of sand-swept expanses beneath burning blue skies. Which were sort of unsettling and cool at the same time.

(Despite what he'd been saying, he was more than a little concerned that he'd be… influenced again, like the first time he'd had the Staff of Duulaman, and Hotep Ra was whispering in his ear. What could he say? He was easily corrupted by power.)

(Which maybe was something he shouldn't be saying so flippantly, but Danny wasn't the only one who got to have awesome coping mechanisms.)

"I'm just not sure what the protocol for this is," said Danny, earnestly. "I'm really sorry, I'm just… A bit overwhelmed. Maybe I could send Ellie with you as well…"

"Oh my gosh, no, stop," said Tucker. "Why are you so insistent on stripping away all of your emotional support network?"

Danny opened his mouth. Scowled. Closed it. "Did Jazz tell you to say that?"

"Yes," admitted Tucker.

"Well. Ellie did say she wanted to work on our siblings more. And at least Jazz's feeling better?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure," said Tucker. He was of the opinion that Jazz was feeling better mostly because she had successfully distracted herself from what had been bothering her by jumping head-first into her Obsession.

Also, she'd gotten her hands (both natural and ghostly) on some exceedingly cool swords.

Tucker envied those swords. His staff was pretty cool, though, if he did say so himself.

"She, uh," said Danny. "Has she been bothering you about… this stuff?"

"Not a whole lot," said Tucker. "But, yeah, she's working on her thesis. She's been talking to Dora, too. Since she's the queen of Mattingly."

"Makes sense. Actually, that's a good idea. Probably distracting Dora from Sydney going missing." He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. Tucker followed his gaze to a tiny ghost beetle making its way up a blade of indigo grass. "Poor Sydney."

Tucker nodded. "If I could do something…"

"I know," said Danny. "Me too. This is just… really frustrating. Not being able to do anything."

"You're doing a lot," said Tucker. "Just, you're doing different things. They're still important."

Danny nodded slowly, then looked back at Tucker. "You, too. The things you're doing are important, too."

"Thanks, man. I think there might be a difference in degree, though. Will you at least check and see if you can get my parents, I don't know, released?"

"Yeah, of course," said Danny. "Speaking of the council, though, I need a Grand Vizier, do you think—"

"Absolutely not," said Tucker. "Don't even joke about that. I am an incredibly bad choice. I don't know anything. I'm a minor. I'm barely older than you."

"Oh. Yeah. That would be a stumbling block. Sorry. Let's…" Danny huffed out a sigh. "I'm going to miss you."

"Same, dude. I hate splitting up like this."

"Yeah. How about Minister of Technology?"

Tucker scratched his head. "We talked about this before, didn't we?"

"Maybe? I don't remember, there's too much stuff going on."

"I like the title, but I feel like Technus might try to assassinate me if I actually take it."

"Aw, Technus isn't a killer. Might fight you, though."

"Yeah. I think I'm going to wait until Klingon promotion isn't the law of the land. Dimension. Kingdom. Whatever."

"You know, your parents referred to it pretty much like that, too."

"So, what would you call it? I kind of feel like kingdom is too… small."

"People do call it that, though. Empire doesn't fit, exactly," said Danny.

"It is a collection of kingdoms. Countries in countries."

"World? Realm? Realms? They are the Infinite Realms." Danny tilted his head. "I think part of the problem is that there are so many different languages. So many different words for country."

"We can just call it a country," said Tucker.

"We could. But that seems so weird, when it's made up of disconnected floating islands."

"Meh," said Tucker. "At least I can solidly call my kingdom a kingdom."

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Amity Park had been transformed.

Humans and ghosts mingled. Both physical buildings and ghostly ones stood tall against the green-tinted horizon. Faintly glowing greenery covered over half the available surfaces, in some ways mimicking how things had looked during Undergrowth's invasion. Delicate flowers bloomed on the vines covering the buildings, wafting pollen in the air.

Sam breathed in, deeply.

Danny would love to see this. She raised her camera (not the ghostly one) and snapped a picture.

Actually, forget Danny (not literally, she missed him). She loved this. This is what cities should be like. Green, edging towards self-sustaining, or at least closer to self-sustaining than the blights they currently were on the environment.

Sam let her legs swing back and forth over the ledge a few more times before drawing them back up onto the roof. She stood up and stretched.

Things had been dangerously bad for a while, there, but they were looking up, now. She wondered, idly, if by the time everything was sorted out, Amity Park wouldn't be part of the Ghost Zone. It sounded like the kind of thing Danny might like but feel guilty about.

He should stop feeling guilty about things. They were rarely his fault.

She turned around and walked back into the little tarp pavilion set up on the roof for the purpose of hosting meetings with both humans and ghosts.

"So," she drawled. "Has everyone read it yet? Are we still waiting on someone? Or are we all staring at the photocopies blankly?"

"The last," said Ishiyama, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sam, you know Danny better than any of us. Is he serious?"

"About which part?"

"All of it!" exploded Wes. "Does he really expect us to become citizens of the Ghost Zone? We're humans. We're alive."

"I mean, we're all sort of liminal," said Sam. "I think you must have some kind of ESP, honestly. Or that thing that ghosts use to see invisibility."

"Why are you so casual about this?"

"My life was weird before this," said Sam. "But, yes, I would say Danny is, in fact, serious. Actually, I'm sort of surprised he put it into writing like this instead of just assuming."

"What?" asked Damon Grey.

"He is half ghost, son," said Colonel Grey, patting his descendant on the shoulder. "That comes with certain blind spots, I'm given to understand."

"You've got that right, newb," said Sunset, the cowboy/hacker ghost who seemed to be leaning slightly farther towards hacker today, raising a slightly misty glass of not-lemonade. It had an umbrella in it.

The service at the ghost hotel was impressive. Too bad its powers didn't extend to providing sustenance for humans. Alas.

"By our standards," said Sunset, swirling his drink, "he already owns this whole town. Considerin' what he's Obsessed with, he might have jumped to the reasonable conclusion that y'all would want to do the safest thing."

"How is seceding from the United States safe?" demanded Wes.

"It gives him more room to protect you."

"Right, because one scrawny high schooler can protect us from the entire military apparatus," scoffed Wes, leaning back in his lawn chair and crossing his arms.

Sam gestured to the shield dome above them.

"Okay, bad example," admitted Wes. He put his head in his hands. "I don't want to live in the Ghost Zone."

"I don't want to live in a country that would drop nukes on one of their own cities," said Damon.

"Weren't the only funded by the government?" asked one of the other adults present.

"I think that makes it worse," said Ishiyama. "Just—I need some advice on how to handle this. Obviously, we have to let everyone know, but… Presentation changes everything. Five years of school administration has taught me that much, at least." She sighed. "He is serious about this whole thing?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" asked Sam. "Look. We can just put it to a vote or something. If all the humans agree—"

"I think the resident ghosts should vote as well," said Colonel Grey, gruffly. "Humans can always leave—"

Things didn't quite dissolve into chaos after that, but it was a near thing.

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After the peak of the chaos Mrs. Manson, who had bullied her way into the meeting on the strength of her daughter being there, cleared her throat and put her incongruously delicate teacup down with an audible clink.

"Like my daughter said, there is a way to go about this," she said, "and that, considering this decision will affect everyone under the dome, is to put it to a vote. Our duty is to arrange things so that can be done and to determine what reasonable courses of action can be taken."

Sam stared at her mother, surprised.

"Don't look at me like that, Sam. You don't spend as long as I have working with charities and local governments without picking up a thing or two about handling these kinds of situations." She sniffed, making the gesture as dainty as her teacup. "Of course, if there is to be some kind of delegation from Amity Park to the national government, I must insist on being on it."

The chaos returned with a vengeance.