San Francisco, California, December, 2077, Saturday…

Punky Jones didn't really understand what it was all about, all this marching, happy faces, sad faces, angry faces, people chanting slogans calling for the secession of Northern California from the Union. There were all kinds of people - men of the cloth, as his mother called them, old professor types and other old people, young workers, some still in their welding suits, cooks' aprons, and so forth. It was a great mix of humanity and a lot of excitement for a boy of eight.

His mother took advantage of the child care program in his school on school days, but she didn't have anyone to leave him with on Saturdays. So she had brought him with her, taking three buses and the old BART to downtown.

The protesters were coming right down Van Ness. They would turn west on Union, hoping to really throw a monkey wrench into the shopping district. Unfortunately the police were waiting for them at Van Ness and Filbert. They were in heavy riot gear and had their water cannons.

At first Punky thought it was great fun to get hit by some of the spray. It was not hot in San Francisco, but the sun beat down on them, so getting side-swiped by water spray was not particularly uncomfortable at first. But when his mother went down as a full blast hit her, he got scared. He knelt beside her.

She was stunned. The water cannon had moved on to find other victims. Punky helped his mother to her feet.

She staggered a few steps and then was confronted by a cop.

"Down on your knees! You're under arrest!"

Punky started screaming in fear. The cop took a swing at him with a night stick. The blow broke his jaw and he sank to the wet tarmac, unconscious.

When he woke up he was in a hospital ward, his jaw wired shut. He began to thrash out in fear and fell out of the gurney. Two nurses came and lifted him back into it. A nice looking black doctor approached him with a not so nice looking needle.

"Rest easy, son. We're still trying to sort things out here. Next time you wake up maybe you can tell us who your parents are. We suppose that they were in the protest."

His mother was found after several days. Punky's troubles were not over, though. The State of California declared her unfit and sent Punky off to a foster home. He never saw her again.