Free Agency:
“God is never driven to do anything. Rather, we suppose, any exercise of his will is entirely up to him… Only if this is so can God exercise independent authority over the world, and control completely all that occurs in it.” ii
-Hugh McCann
If the grand design required a frame, what sort of frame was it? Did the cosmic laws, written on the land, the heart or on paper, determine action or facilitate it? Was it the frame of a house on which materials were placed certainly or specifically, or was it a highway where vehicles were free to switch lanes but not cross the barrier? The existence and necessity of law was clear. What was unclear was the degree to which law must necessarily and minimally guide the actions of all people. If people were to be free, then law, it seemed must serve minimally and not maximally. It must be liberty enabling, not constraining. Law must be a highway leading to the perpetual fulfillment, whatever that fulfillment might be in any context.
Yet another subjectivity overtook Zack. He was his own, then we was a prisoner of the system, then he worked for Huddles (or Hardin), and now he was once again a prisoner of the system. The interesting thing was that it seemed as though Zack could, at least hypothetically, act freely within the confines of his subjectivity. The team, and Zack, exited the building onto the roof seeing the body of a man that, up to this point, no one recognized.
“Was this you?” asked the man in the suit.
Should Zack be honest with this man? Chances were, he already knew what Zack had been up to, “No. I was overlooking the area to make sure Melissa didn’t try anything. Before I knew what was happening, this guy came up and pointed a gun at me. I heard a shot and I saw him hit the ground, but at that point we were both disarmed.”
“That’s odd,” the man replied, “It wasn’t us either.” He pointed at one of the other officers, “Get the investigation team up here and let's figure out who this man is and why he was here.”
The team did their thing and hauled the body away in a black bag. “If you didn't take that shot, and we didn't either, then someone else did.” The man in the suit was very good at stating the obvious, but so much time had elapsed that they would not be able to find the trigger finger even if they did trace the trajectory of the bullet, but they might find something. “How were you positioned?”
Zack showed him exactly what he remembered and, surprisingly, the man was able to, with some certainty, pinpoint a location from which the bullet was fired.
“Follow me,” he said and darted back into the building so that he could come out again on the ground level. Zack pursued while trying to get his backpack onto his left arm and they quickly made it all the way to the hotel that was adjacent from them. They stormed into the hotel and went up the stairs. One, two, three flights and into the hallway all the way up to the door that the man in the suit believed to be the origin of the shot.
“Miss Daniels,” he yelled, “FBI, we are coming in!”
Zack didn’t know where he got a keycard, but in the keycard went as he drew his handgun and motioned for Zack to draw his. Zack did and they entered the room only to find an elderly woman in a bathrobe laying in bed watching the review of the political debates. She started raving about her right to privacy and that the whole country would be damned if Despot won the election. That wasn't necessarily true, though. There seemed to be powers greater than those that came with the office of president. Still, though, Zack would prefer not to have anyone as dogmatic as that billionaire in office.
Melissa, rushing to get everything put away, disassembled her rifle and placed it into her roll away suitcase. She listened as the officers, at least she assumed they were officers responding to her shot, rushed down her hallway and stormed another room. The old lady made her laugh, but only shortly. She needed to figure out how she would get out, but it quickly became clear that she would not. These people would search until she was found.
Melissa threw the cushions off the couch in the small hotel room and cut the layer of cloth under them. She placed everything she had in that spot and placed the cushions back where they belonged. She then opened the closet and climbed up onto that small shelf that closets always seem to have at the very top for some reason. This was a better option than under the bed, but still not ideal. Melissa only hoped they wouldn't open the closet when they searched this room.
She stayed there in silence, and scrunched up. She couldn't get the door closed properly, but perhaps that would help her to hide. She could have done things differently, at least it seemed. Melissa had a choice from the very start, and she chose to take the money for her sister. What if she hadn't? The question seemed nonsensical because she had, but a different path entirely seemed plausible. By making this choice, Melissa changed what the outcome might have been if she would have chosen differently, and the framework of the law made the decision possible. People, it seemed, were free moral agents in the world. If they were free moral agents, where did this free agency come from? Who, or what, guaranteed such a free agency? Did people have any other type of free agency? Could they transcend laws of nature or laws of logic? Probably not, because these laws form the frame by which people became free agents. All of creation was a highway and people were the cars moving about freely between the barriers of law. Whence came the barriers?
There was a knock on the door and a voice, “FBI, we are coming in!” Melissa took a deep breath and held it in, resolving only to breathe out little by little so she wouldn't have to let it all out at once. A man in a suit and Zack came in with guns. Was this the police, or was Zack finally here to get his revenge? The closet door swung the rest of the way open and the man in the suit pointed his gun inside. “Clear,” he said, failing to look up in the top of the closet.
Melissa was now finding it difficult to breathe out slowly, but her will was strong. As the man turned, she saw his badge. What circumstance would cause the FBI to work with Zack? Or, was Zack working for the FBI? Regardless, she couldn't compete with their resources and now even her contact was dead. She was unsure what would happen from this point on, but hoped that law enforcement would trace Brent’s body back to his boss and end this whole conspiracy. That is what it was, wasn’t it: a conspiracy. She heard all the theories before, but never dreamed to be so caught up in one or even witness a real and true national conspiracy. Now the only man she knew who had any answers was dead. Why did she pull the trigger? Free agency, at this point, seemed to be synonymous with mistake; at least by imperfect or incomplete people. “Cause and effect,” she whispered accidentally as the rest of her air forced it’s way out. She gasped in and clinched her lips together.
“What was that?” Asked the suit as he looked around.
Zack looked under the bed, “Must be suppressed noise from another room. Not many places to hide here.”
The two men left the hotel room and continued their search. Melissa breathed easy. She had a cramp in one of her legs, but there was no way she was going to move. She was not going to get caught after getting through that!
All of the political aspirants in the room were silent. It wasn’t long before that they all stood on a stage ready to verbally assault one another and now they were awkwardly sitting in a room with on another with no one to listen to their positions on the issues. How terrible it would be to have something of paramount importance to say and have no one to say it to. They would have to speak genuinely to one another.
Despot was the first to break the silence, “Now I’m locked in here with all of you while our incompetent agents search for that unhappy person out there!”
“Just think about what would happen if we built a wall.” One of the other candidates cracked causing the others to laugh.
“Yeah,” another started in, “For liking freedom so much, it sure seems as though you want to limit it even more…”
The laughter stopped and Despot responded, “You want to know what I think? I’ll tell you what I think! You idiots are just unhappy that I’m ahead in the polls and you’ll do anything to discredit me. I’ll tell you this. My supporters are more loyal than any of yours!”
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or afraid,” one of the others said again, “I’d be interested in what Senator Hardin has to say about it though.”
“About what?” he asked, not knowing which part of the conversation they were referring to: the talk about freedom or the slandering of one another. They were truly that way even when there was no audience. It was petty and manipulative.
“Well, to what degree should we be free in this country?”
Hardin responded with a question, “How free are we?
What decisions are we capable of making regardless of the written law?”
Those in the room with him weren’t sure how to answer. Not because they didn’t understand the question, but rather because they were unsure of his intent. Was this an honest question, or was it some sort of chicanery? They all looked around at each other, but Despot was the only one who would speak up, “Okay, I’ll indulge you,” he quipped, “I can do anything I want. The law can’t stop me from doing what I want, and I’ll have you know that I would still have my supporters if I did in fact do whatever the…”
Hardin interrupted, “So, you would say that, in our natural state or as we have been created, we are free agents?”
“Of course!” Despot answered, “That’s why I’m running for president: to make America great!”
Hardin snickered, “Okay Mr. Despot. I would agree. People have absolute freedom of choice, belief and thought even if those choices may not come to fruition or those thoughts cannot be substantiated; much like your perceived presidency.” Some of the others laughed. “It still remains that we are limited in our negative freedom and in our positive freedom in some way, and it must be so. Why do you think that is?”
Not one person responded. They weren’t sure how to reply. Hardin, after letting the silence linger, answered his own question, “If there is freedom to be exercised, then there must be a frame in which that freedom is exercised. If there is no frame, there is no freedom. Either we are slaves to a world of strict cause and effect or one person will ultimately enslave another while himself being a slave to his own anarchy. There must be a frame. Our challenge, gentlemen, is to discern where that frame should be and I am not sure I could answer that question adequately on this earth because on this earth we are in a perpetual state of cultural, moral, civic and technological change coupled with an absence of wisdom. We ought to always be genuinely evaluating what we are doing because of this perpetual state. A decision that may enable a greater degree of personal liberty for equal agents of change today will need to be reconsidered in five or ten years. This is the nature of civil government in a fallen world. Here’s my real question, though. Why do you guys believe that we are actually free agents?”
“Because we choose how to act…” one said holding up his hand.
“Thanks for that circular argument,” Hardin replied, “The only way that we can truly believe that we are free agents is if we are not locked in a world of strict cause and effect. By that I simply mean that we cannot be locked in a strict pattern of cause and effect where each cause will necessarily bring about a specific effect with no way to change it. The world would be completely deterministic and the universe would be our tyrant. This means that we cannot live in a world that is completely naturalistic, because in a naturalistic world a cause would necessarily lead to a specific effect with no change in direction. This means that if we believe ourselves to be free agents, we must believe that nature is under the authority of an ultimate free agent. I want all of you to hear me on this, including you Mr. Despot. I believe that this ultimate free agent is the Judeo-Christian God and that he has created all people in His image as free agents within nature. Because of this, I can see you all as equals and equally capable of leading this country under the direction of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Here in your confidence I want to tell you all that I would support any of you if you beat me in the primary elections. It is the only way to genuinely see the world if people are truly free agents. And, honestly, it is the only way to truly lead the fight for the greatest level of negative liberty and equality for all people.”
Hopefully this would set the tone for the rest of the race. United, this party would be much stronger but that would not happen without a perspective not based in the selfishness of each candidate.
The immediate investigation was over. Everyone assumed that Melissa had fired the shot, which was true, but no one could find her. Dumb luck turned out to be a pretty good escape plan. Well, dumb luck and the training she went through to get on the police force in the first place.
Zack was given a ride to a precinct close by where they had been examining the body that formerly belonged to Brent Woods. “What can you tell us about this guy?” asked the man in the suit hoping the examiners would have some information for him.
“He died by gunshot,” they responded facetiously, “We ran his DNA, prints and teeth to see if we could get a match, but came up with nothing. You already know as much as we know.”
“Oh,” one of the other examiners exclaimed, “He might look white, but he has a lot of Arab in him; like he has one Arab parent. That might be useful information later.”
“Thanks. Keep working and see what else you can find for me,” Zack’s handler looked dissatisfied and agitated. That is what he had become by now, right? Zack’s handler? That seemed odd considering his earlier position. Why was he being asked to help?
Melissa’s leg started to cramp so she tried to adjust. Instead of only adjusting, her leg sprung out from the closet and she kicked the door. She didn’t know how long she had been in the same awkward position, but if enough time hadn’t yet elapsed, Melissa would be caught for sure by now. If it weren’t for her cramp, the former detective would not even be able to feel her legs. She had fit herself into so tight a space that both of them had fallen asleep. When she jumped down out of the closet, she meant to land on her feet. Not being able to feel them, her face plummeted to the floor.
When Melissa was finally able to feel her extremities, she got up. No one had come in to arrest her. She went to the window and looked out over the center where the debate was. There were no cars in the parking lot and it seemed as though the police presence was gone. How long had it been?
Melissa retrieved her things, put on a hoody, and made her way out of the hotel. Her mind drifted to the video file she had received. Brent was dead now, but she didn’t know if someone else would be calling the shots from now on. Maybe she could hide the DVD, or burn it, and whoever was controlling Brent would have to believe that he never slid it under the door.
Melissa found a car, broke into it and drove away from Greenville. Life was more than simple cause and effect. There was free agency. If there was free agency, the universe was not a closed system. If the universe was an open system, there had to be an authority guiding it to some degree. Hopefully the decision to hide the disk wouldn’t come back to haunt her. It was time to disappear.