The Ascendant

by Peter Parkin

  “Now, to Candidate B.

  “He is brilliant in every sense of the word. Charismatic, and has the ability to garner affection and adulation from almost all sectors of society. A humble man, despite his obvious talents.

  “Achieves victories without really having to try too hard. Wears his emotions on his sleeve at times, and effortlessly demonstrates empathy with others. Leads by example, and people follow him willingly.

  “Idealistic and stubborn. Not easily swayed from his ideals and principles. Coercion may sometimes work, but his conscience is always working overtime in the background. Capable of deep emotion, and loyal to a fault.

  “Falls in love easily, and returns love willingly. Capable of great accomplishments solely due to his ability to incite loyalty. Followers tend to be confident in his leadership due to his natural charisma and honesty.

  “Motivated by the pursuit of good triumphing over evil. Obsessed with always doing the right thing, not only for others, but for the appeasement of his own conscience.

  “So, there you have it. We will now call for a vote. And the motion we’re voting on is a simple one. It is this: Do we want Candidate A or Candidate B to be our sole Ascendant and the next President of the United States?

  “A simple majority will determine the answer, and, after the vote we will all speak as one voice.

  “Needless to say, we have the opportunity of a lifetime here as we are fortunate for both political parties to have Triple-L specimens at the top of the polls. In essence, we of Aufsteigen will win no matter who wins.

  “It comes down to who will be able to execute our agenda the best. Are there any comments in favor of one or the other before we hold the vote?”

  A hand raised near the front of the conference table.

  “Yes, Prinzessin, speak your mind.”

  Prinzessin rose from her seat. “Allgemeine, in my view, both candidates are strong, but the candidate most motivated by the essences of ego and power would serve our group the best. My vote will be for Candidate A.”

  “Thank you, Prinzessin. Are there any more comments?”

  A man sitting beside Prinzessin stood.

  “Yes, Soldat?”

  “I second the comments from Prinzessin. Candidate A is my choice.”

  “Thank you, Soldat. The floor is still open. Further comments anyone?”

  A large hand was raised in the back of the conference room.

  “Yes, Drachen, please share your thoughts.”

  A tall man dressed in a black linen suit accentuated by a red silk tie, rose from his seat. All eyes turned in the direction of the imposing figure blessed with thick black hair and a dark Mediterranean complexion. Drachen always commanded attention—his presence usually sucked the oxygen out of any room.

  “Allgemeine, with all due respect, I will disagree with Prinzessin and Soldat. The candidate with the qualities of character, honesty, and humility would make the most effective President of the United States.

  “While he might be harder to control, he will be far more trustworthy in the long run for the Aufsteigen Group, and more likely to fulfill our agenda. Of course, he would require a certain amount of exertion and influence from us, but in the long run, the effort would be worth it. Candidate A is a loose cannon and reckless. My vote will be for Candidate B.”

  “Thank you, Drachen. Last call for comments. Anyone else?”

  The tall bespectacled chairman of the Aufsteigen Group, known at these ceremonial meetings as Allgemeine, banged the gavel.

  “Seeing no further hands raised, the floor is closed. We will now call for a vote.

  “For Candidate A, a show of hands, please.”

  He counted the hands.

  “For Candidate B, a show of hands, please.”

  He counted those hands, and jotted down the results on a pad. Raised his head to address the group.

  “The vote count is thirteen to twelve, in favor of Candidate A. It has been recorded as to how each of you has voted. In my role as Chairman, I only vote in the event of a tie.

  “And, of course, with the composition of our group, there could only be a tie in the case of unexpected absences of one or more members, or, sadly, in the situation of one or more deaths. In this case, we have a clear decision, and all voting members are present and accounted for.

  “Candidate A is our Ascendant and choice for president. We will now speak as one voice and rally our resources behind that candidate. Which could mean drastic sanction against Candidate B if it becomes clear that he is winning against our choice, but no such sanctions will be permitted earlier than the two-month span of time prior to the election.

  “We will all be committed to the cause we have voted on here today.

  “A procedural reminder to all of you, however. If, prior to September tenth of this year, exactly two months from the date of the general election, any members of our group become deceased, the vote will be immediately recalculated. If the result changes in favor of Candidate B instead of Candidate A, we will follow protocol in support of Candidate B.

  “In closing, good luck to us all, good luck to Candidate A, and God bless these United States of America.”

  48

  The celebrations continued until dawn.

  The new Hyatt Regency in Portland, Oregon, was christened in fine style.

  Adjoining the Oregon Convention Center, it had been built to attract big events, big spenders, and big news.

  Nothing bigger could have been anticipated than what had just happened on this hot July 21 evening.

  Thousands of eager Democratic Party delegates, attendees, and power brokers, had just wrapped up their nomination convention.

  This final night was the biggest celebration the party had ever seen in its history—because the result came out of nowhere.

  A candidate who had been a dark horse only a few months ago, declaring his entry late into the primary contest, transformed, literally overnight, from a dark horse into a white charger.

  And, despite the fact that he had won no primary contests whatsoever, he still won the nomination.

  When the voting took place on the final day of the convention, none of the candidates achieved the required 2,382 delegates out of 4,763. They all fell far short, with some delegates even refusing to cast their votes the way the primaries had dictated, causing a crisis that had to be resolved by the party executive.

  Urgent meetings were held, ideas were proposed, and rule changes were made.

  The executive was surprised how many delegates had mutinied from party rules, and actually just exercised what they insisted was their entitlement to “write in” their choice for nominee.

  Dr. Sandford Beech, the dark horse, had succeeded in attracting hundreds of votes from these mutineers on that crucial first ballot.

  Other delegates started voicing their wish to “write in” as well, after seeing the dismal results from the first ballot for the three official candidates.

  The Oregon Convention Hall became a noisy place indeed, with thousands of passionate delegates and party supporters insisting that caution be thrown to the wind, and to hell with the stupid rules.

  Clearly, the three weak candidates were worse than weak—they were pathetic.

  But, what was clear to virtually all of the attendees, the one candidate who no one considered “official” because he hadn’t won, or even participated in, one single primary, was cresting as the favorite.

  Without even participating, he’d attracted several hundred votes on the first ballot.

  If the rules were relaxed, and true democracy was followed, allowing freedom to vote on conscience and instinct alone, then and only then, would the party be able to embrace its proper nominee.

  In other words, attendees insisted, in loud and raucous terms, that the Democratic Party finally show that it was democratic.
A novel thought indeed.

  Fearing a complete breakdown of the Democratic Party, a possible riot, and a colossal embarrassment on nationally-broadcast television, the executive capitulated.

  They made the announcement that rules and protocol would be ignored due to the unique situation, and that the convention would be thrown open to voting on an individual basis, with no consideration given to what had been committed to in the months-long primary season.

  The die was cast.

  The crowd, for the most part was ecstatic. This had never happened before in the history of the Party, and everyone felt they would be part of new history now.

  Dr. Sandford Beech from the great state of Massachusetts, won overwhelmingly on the second ballot, garnering votes from 3,500 delegates, well above the majority that was needed.

  And in his victory speech, which contained all the right words, and all the right magnetism, he announced his running mate.

  The four-term senator from New York, Caitlin Atwood, would be the country’s next vice president if the Beech/Atwood ticket won in November.

  History was made once again, as Caitlin was only the second woman ever nominated for VP, and, if they won in November, she would be the very first elected vice president.

  Dr. Sandford Beech promised his adoring crowd that the greatest country in the world would once again become that sparkling beacon of freedom and compassion.

  He was rewarded with a thundering ovation that lasted for what seemed like forever.

  Sandy was now the Democratic Party nominee for President of the United States of America.

  Only a week earlier at the Republican Party convention in Dallas, Senator Lincoln Berwick had secured the Republican nomination.

  The race was on.

  A sprint over the next four months until the general election on November 10.

  Americans would vote on that special day for their next president, their choice being between two former classmates who had raced against each other countless times back at West Point.

  Americans didn’t completely grasp, however, how special and unique this election really was. For the very first time in history, not just one, but both of the candidates, had been designer babies. Chosen for greatness before any quality time had even been spent in the womb. Lives created by sperm that had, remarkably, been several decades old before being resurrected from frozen slumber. Resulting in two lives destined to achieve the highest pinnacles of success solely on the basis of genetics.

  *****

  Sandy wasn’t a partier, but he endured nonetheless. The convention hall planned to rock and roll until dawn, but he managed to sneak off to his suite in the Hyatt long before that.

  No one would miss him. The partiers were probably too drunk to even remember why they were there. They were celebrating an historic event, sure, but just like at weddings, once the bride and groom left, no one usually seemed to care all that much.

  His suite was spacious and sumptuous. More than he needed, but the campaign organizers insisted he have nothing but the best. He wasn’t going to argue.

  Lloyd, Bill, and Judy joined him for a drink in the wee hours of the morning. They were all relieved to escape the noise, and hanging out in Sandy’s suite was the kind of celebration they enjoyed much more than mingling with hordes of strangers down in the convention hall.

  Bill raised his glass. “A toast. To the next President of the United States!”

  The four friends clinked glasses.

  To Sandy, it all felt surreal. The four of them had endured so much over the last few months, and right now it seemed like a dream, a fantasy, that they were actually celebrating something he had never envisioned and never even wanted. But, now, he wanted it. He wanted to make a difference.

  It was strange, he thought, how quickly priorities could turn on a dime.

  Each of his friends had taken leaves of absence from their jobs to perform key roles in the campaign over the last couple of months.

  They were full-time employees of the Beech for President campaign, and while their responsibilities were exhausting, they each still found time to get home to their friends and families every few days. Again, all paid for by the campaign.

  Judy’s daughter, Cynthia, had moved in with Judy’s sister in New York, and would be there until the election. After that, who knew what the future held?

  Sandy was determined to find roles for each of them in his administration if he won the presidency, so they’d all have to move to Washington to join him. Precocious Cynthia had already hinted to Judy that she expected them to move into one of those famous and trendy Georgetown brownstones that were frequently featured in political thrillers.

  Lloyd walked across the room and gave Sandy a big bear hug. Then he stood back, resting his hands on Sandy’s shoulders.

  “This is kind of unbelievable. It’s happened so fast. You raced to the top, and no surprise of course. You’re about as presidential as any candidate could possibly be. You’ll be great as president—it’s an honor to say I was your classmate, Sandy.”

  Sandy chuckled. “I know. It’s odd. I’m still trying to get my head around it all. There’s still so much to think about, just the ‘getting elected’ part. But, beyond that, I have to be more concerned about how to actually be president, which of course, I know absolutely zero about.”

  Bill chimed in. “Hey, you’re entitled to Secret Service protection now. The nominees of each party automatically get that perk 120 days before the general election.”

  Sandy shook his head. “I don’t want them yet. Too constraining. I’ll wait until I’m actually president. Until then, I still want some semblance of freedom.”

  Judy made a face. “Is that wise? Wouldn’t it be far safer with those pros?”

  “Maybe. But, I have four security guys that the campaign is paying for, so I’ll just continue with them for now. They’re ex-military, so probably just as good as the Secret Service, anyway. But, at least with these guys, I can tell them to piss off occasionally. Once I agree to take on the Secret Service, I lose that ability. So, for now, I think I’m fine.”

  Lloyd put down his glass and started for the door. “C’mon, Bill, let’s go. We’ll leave Sandy and Judy to reminisce about the good ole days on this special night—or, should I say, morning?”

  Bill glanced at his watch, and followed Lloyd out the door. “Christ, it is indeed morning. Okay, goodnight, you two. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives, and I have a feeling that it’s not gonna be dull.”

  *****

  She was lying across his body, her sweet face resting on his chest. Her nakedness was warm and comforting, a feeling that Sandy hadn’t experienced since he’d lost his wife. In fact, it was a feeling he thought he’d never experience again.

  Her naked beauty wasn’t much different than he remembered from back in their college days. Sure, they’d both aged a lot since then, but, remarkably, neither of them had changed too much.

  A few extra pounds here and there in spots that would have caused them angst in their younger years, but still pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. And to be expected, with a couple of decades of distance from when they’d been lovers.

  But they weren’t lovers anymore. At least, not for now.

  Sandy planted a gentle kiss on Judy’s forehead.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She slid her fingers across his lips and whispered, “Shush—nothing to be sorry about. It happens.”

  “It’s never happened to me before. It’s—humiliating.”

  Judy raised herself up on her elbows, and stared into his eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s just being human. We’ll try again some other time.”

  “That would be nice. But, now that this has happened, I’ll be thinking about it. I’ll probably need to get good and drunk next time so I can forget.”

 
“You can’t forget. Your brain won’t let you. But, you can relax and realize that you don’t have to prove anything to me. We’re not kids anymore, and we have a history between us that most couples don’t have.”

  Sandy kissed her on the lips, then took a peek under the blanket. He chuckled. “Still nothing to report.”

  She cradled his face in her hands. “Sandy, dear, there are also a few other things you may not be able to forget all that easily. You know what I mean.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I do. I don’t know if those things are a factor or not, but it’s been over three years now since my life came to an end. That sounds kind of ominous, but it did indeed end. Pleasure hasn’t been a priority for me ever since that happened.

  “My work at MIT and the Lincoln Lab has consumed me—and I allowed it to. And, revenge has been foremost on my mind during my idle time. Wanting someone to pay, someone to hurt. It’s been an obsession.

  “And, now this—I soon may be President of the United States. I’m realistic enough to know that such a job will not have much pleasure attached to it. In an odd sort of way, I’ve been doomed ever since my family died.”

  “Did you ever seek counselling?”

  Sandy shook his head. “No. The nuclear physicist in me told me that no insights would be more scientific than my own. Silly, I know, but probably really just more arrogant than silly. Counselling probably would have helped me.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose your entire family all at once like that. It’s impossible to get my head in that space.”

  Sandy sighed. “I still love her, Judy. I’m being perfectly honest with you. You deserve that. And I still adore my kids. That’s not healthy at all. They’re gone. I’m alone. And no one has yet paid the price for what was taken from me.”

  “Maybe the unhealthiest thing for you is to still think about revenge. If you harbor those feelings, even after you crush Linc in the election, you’ll never be able to truly enjoy your life the way you deserve to.”