Harry Turtledove - Liberating Atlantis

A few white couples-people who'd decided to get married today before so many newly free slaves rushed to make their unions official-stood in line with the copperskins and Negroes. Some seemed nervous about becoming the minority element in that long ribbon of colored people. Others made the best of it. That the Negroes and copperskins were all in high spirits lent everything a quality of easiness. A white man pulled a flask out of a jacket pocket and took a nip. He passed it to his sweetheart, a red-head with skin so pale it was almost phosphorescent. She also drank, then handed it to the copperskinned woman standing behind her. The copperskin smiled and sipped and gave the flask to her man. It went down the line till it ran dry, which didn't take long.

But that wasn't the only flask or bottle going around. Frederick and Helen had a swig of distilled lightning. "Somebody in line's gonna get too pickled to be able to say his 'I do's," Frederick predicted, smacking his lips.

"Well, if he is, his woman'll set him straight." Helen spoke as if that were a law of nature. To her, it probably was.

When the line didn't move as fast as Frederick thought it should have, he said, "How come they didn't hire more judges who could hitch people?"

"Don't be silly. They're white folks," Helen answered. "They're too dumb to see we'd all want to do this."

"Yeah," Frederick said with a sigh. A lot of whites honestly believed Negroes and copperskins were no more than animals that happened to be especially useful because they walked erect and had hands. And the whites had done their best to ensure that slaves stayed animallike by making it hard-sometimes impossible-for them to learn to read and write and cipher. Then, seeing how ignorant their colored workers were, they had no trouble deciding slaves truly were stupid.

When he and Helen finally got into the justice of the peace's parlor, they had forms to fill out before they could go through the ceremony. A secretary did stand by to help illiterate couples. That wasn't because of the influx of newly freed slaves; quite a few whites who intended to marry also lacked their letters (though far fewer, proportionally, than was true among copperskins and Negroes).

Frederick and Helen also had to pay the one-eagle fee required to make things official. Frederick proudly dropped a fat silver coin onto the tabletop. Its sweet ring told the world-and the secretary-it was genuine. The functionary filled in the blank lines on a form in a receipt book, tore it out, and handed it to Frederick. "Here you are, Mr. Radcliff," he said, for all the world as if he were dealing with a white man, and an important white man at that.

"Thank you kindly," Frederick answered, as if he were an important white man. Hearing and understanding that tone, Helen set a hand on his arm. They beamed at each other.

The newly married couple in line in front of them-he a mulatto, she a copperskin with strong cheekbones and long, lustrous blue-black hair-came out of the justice of the peace's chamber hand in hand. Both of them were beaming, too. "Congratulations," Frederick said.

"Thanks, friend. Same to you," the man replied.

From within, the justice of the peace called, "Who's next? Got to keep things moving today."

"Here we come, your Honor," Frederick said. He and Helen walked in together.

Books filled the shelves behind the justice's desk. The half-empty glass of amber liquid on the desk said he'd already needed fortifying. But his motions were steady and his voice had no slur as he said, "Raise your right hands and set your left hands on the Bibles there."

"Yes, sir," Frederick said. He didn't mind giving respect to a white man whose position deserved it. Helen nodded to the justice of the peace as she obeyed.

"I perform this marriage ceremony by virtue of the authority vested in me by the sovereign state of New Hastings," the justice of the peace intoned, as he already had so many times before on this special day. He looked at Frederick. "Repeat after me: I-state your name-"

"Frederick Radcliff."

The white man's eyebrows rose, but he didn't miss a beat. He led Frederick through his part of the brief proceeding, then took Helen through hers. When they'd both said everything required of them, the justice of the peace went on, "By virtue of the said authority vested in me by the sovereign state of New Hastings, I now pronounce you man and wife." To Frederick, he added, "You may kiss your bride."

It wasn't as if Frederick hadn't been kissing Helen, and going to bed with her, for all of their adult lives. But kissing his bride? That was a different story. White men's laws-slaveholders' laws-hadn't let them be man and wife till the Slug Hollow agreement passed the Atlantean Senate. He made the most of the kiss.

With a cough, the justice of the peace said, "Don't like to hurry you along, folks, but I've got to do it. Big long line there behind you. I want to get through as many folks as I can. Nobody's going to hold things up, not today."

"Sorry," Frederick said. "Not sorry I kissed her, but-"

"Oh, come on," Helen told him. "His Honor knows what you mean."

Without a doubt, his Honor did. Frederick Radcliff and his wife, Helen Radcliff, left the white man's chamber together. This was the first time she'd had a surname to call her own. For that matter, Frederick's surname had been highly unofficial. No more. Ex-slaves who didn't have surnames would need to acquire them as fast as they could. State governments and the government of the United States of Atlantis would want to keep track of their new citizens: if for no other reason then to tax them more efficiently.

Taxes. Frederick's lip curled. He'd never had to worry about those while Henry Barford owned him. Freedom had some rough spots, sure as the devil. Nobody took care of free men who were down on their luck or too old and feeble to work, either. But, compared to the alternative… "Come on, Mrs. Radcliff," Frederick said. They walked past the secretary and out into the street together.