By John C.A. Manley

Charlie Simpkins is no philosopher. He’s just another “comrade” in the West Coast People’s Democratic Republic, operating a vegetable shop in Los Angeles. He smokes the government-issued Progress cigarettes, he drinks the rationed rotgut at the local class-four tavern and, generally, lives a life of silent compliance.
Until, one day, the government asks him to put up a communist propaganda poster, with the words “WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!” Instead of taping it to the window of his shop, he tosses it in the garbage.
That’s how Harry Turtledove’s Powerless opens: With one man finally saying no, even though the consequences could easily involve time breaking rocks in a concentration camp.








