 In Sara's version of the Chevrolet ad, what is implied as the thing that makes America great?
Michigan in February. The war spills out of Fox News, casualty figures scrolling across monochrome drone footage, attack helicopters circling over Caracas apartment blocks, pundits with bronzed skin and immaculate blond hair smiling from four-way split screens. An elderly couple ride a tandem bicycle through a park, laughing and smiling in Instagram-perfect sunshine, as a calm, relaxing voice lists the potentially lethal side effects of a diabetes drug. Up until then it just seemed like constant warmth, as though she didn't have any childhood concept of Dad apart from him getting home from work, then her sitting on his knee, eating cookies and watching football highlights until Mom came in and scolded them both for ruining their appetites before dinner. Suddenly there was rap music and nose rings, sneaking out of the house to see her friends and not wanting to go to church. It was constant warfare; every opinion she had became a battle, every decision she made a conflict. And then politics got all crazy, weirder then ever, and it became impossible for them to talk without it erupting into fights almost instantly. She came back when she could face it; sometimes for birthdays, sometimes for Thanksgiving. But somehow always, like now, for the Super Bowl. Dad is in the bathroom, and Sara has had enough of Fox and whichever war this is. The government had scrapped all the rules about how the internet worked, and for most people like her parents it had suddenly gotten a lot cheaper to get their TV through Facebook, so all she can find is Fox, Breitbart News, Family Values TV, Info Wars, The Rebel, Glenn Beck, The Voice of America, America First, The Bible Today and lots of hunting and sports channels she doesn't even recognise. It's signed in to her Dad's FB account, and the last thing she wants is to try and log in on hers before he gets back from the john. In her pocket her phone vibrates, purrs against her skin, reminding her it's there, making sure she's not forgotten where her real friends are, that there's a world outside, beyond Dad and his TV. She takes it out and cradles it in her hands, the dark screen fleetingly reflecting back her face before it jumps awake at her very touch, opening up to bathe her in blue light, in comfort and warmth and the familiar. Dinner is Mom's meatloaf, with gravy and mashed potatoes. Sara works for a non-profit in Brooklyn that helps big organisations to transition to renewable energy.
 diverse inhabitants
 freedom of speech  freedom of religion  diverse inhabitants  affordable vehicles