Atlas Drugged

by Stephen L. Goldstein

  “Please be seated,” Adam’s father says, coming to the microphone facing the coffin. “Good afternoon everyone here in or outside the stadium, as well as the millions of you who are watching around the country and the world. My name is Roger. I am Adam’s father. Anne is Adam’s mother,” he says pointing to his wife. “Does anything look lonelier than the coffin of a young boy, forever lost to us? Can you imagine any loneliness greater than what Anne and I feel? She brought him into this world on the happiest day of our lives. And now, on the loneliest day we will ever know, his cold body lies in a pine box. He belongs to the world now, but he is lost to us forever—alone, a little boy lost, alone without his parents, to wander through eternity.

  “Parents are not supposed to bury their children. It is against the law of nature for a father to see his son’s frail body crushed in front of him under the massive weight of a horse. I was supposed to protect him, but I couldn’t. I wonder if he knows that I would have, but couldn’t. It all happened so fast. If I had known, I would have thrown myself before the horse. But it all happened so fast. It is against the law of nature for a mother whose warm body gave her son life to know that life has been drained from him for the cold of death and to know that he will be lowered into a cold grave.

  “Today, the whole world knows Adam’s name and how he was brutally killed. But let me tell you about who Adam was when he was alive. Oh, how we celebrated when Anne and I learned she was pregnant. She had an easy pregnancy and birth. But shortly after Adam was born, the doctor discovered that he had a congenital defect that affected his heart rhythm. He never needed surgery or medication. But we had to watch him carefully. He couldn’t play sports or get overexcited without possibly endangering his life. Longterm, we didn’t know what his prospects were. Otherwise, Adam was an average kid, though he was much smarter than average. He was gifted. He was always the smartest in his class and he couldn’t wait to get to school. He said he wanted to be a doctor, because he wanted to make sick kids better. He said he really thought he knew how to do that. He even told his doctors that.

  “Adam was killed on Wednesday. But we died as a family two years ago. For ten years, I had been a software developer for an international technology company. But on a Friday at 5 p.m., I received an email informing me that my services were no longer needed, because it had decided to outsource all of its technical operations overseas. Since, thanks to Cooper and his corporate cronies, there is no unemployment insurance, within six months we had used up our cash and available savings. I couldn’t pay our rent or health insurance. We could barely afford to eat. We had no one to turn to or any place to go.

  “I did the only thing I knew. Adam, Anne, and I packed up everything that would fit in our van—Thank God it was paid for—and we headed north from Tennessee. I found odd jobs along the way, so we were able to eat. But we slept in the van. We started out in the middle of summer. I had hoped that we’d get settled somewhere in time for Adam to start school. But we couldn’t stay anywhere long enough. Anne did the best she could to teach him. I told you he was gifted, and something inside him started to die when he couldn’t go to school.

  “Finally, we wound up in Washington, D.C. and Cooperville. For the first time, we were with thousands of people who understood what we were going through, because they were going through it, too. I’ve been able to work at day jobs, washing dishes or doing light construction. You can forget software development. No one’s hiring. We signed Adam up for school in the fall. Though we had a long way to go, we were starting to pick ourselves up. At least we weren’t moving from place to place and living in our van. Oh, by the way, I sold the van shortly after we went to Cooperville, and that gave us some breathing room for a few months.

  “Then, Wednesday happened. I still can’t believe it. From out of nowhere, men with flashlights and sticks attacked helpless men, women, and children, most of whom were sleeping. They gave us no time to collect our things and made us march into the street. By now, the whole world has seen what happened, not just to Adam, but to thousands of human beings. In Adam’s name, I beg you to never let this happen again.”

  As Roger returns to his seat, people in the audience jump to their seats and shout, “Adam, Adam, Adam. Never again. Adam, Adam, Adam. Never again!”

  “My name is Frank,” the next speaker says. “Ever since John Galt returned and the Corporate States of America was established, it has been illegal to pledge allegiance aloud to the United States of America. So, I ask you to observe a moment’s silence and to repeat it to yourselves.

  “We are here because President Cooper and the Corporate States of America assassinated Adam, an innocent child, in the name of greed, profit, and personal ambition. They have drugged the country on Atlas until they’ve gone mad with power. We are here because we want the world to know that if you kill one of us, you kill all of us. We are here because President Cooper and the Corporate States of America have failed us. They destroyed Cooperville and have sent us here because they don’t want the world to see how we suffer from the disaster they created.

  “Just two days ago, none of us dreamed we’d be here. But look around, this is now what some of us must call home, thanks to President Ham Cooper and his thugs. That’s right, let the whole world see this open-air jail, where we have been forced to move. I was living in Cooperville in Washington, D.C., as I had been for the past four years. I was trying to survive. I knew Adam and his parents from the first day they arrived on the Mall. I watched how they cared for each other as a family—and especially how George and Anne doted on their son. I saw how determined George was to find work and how he went without eating more than once so Anne and Adam could eat—especially Adam. Yes, that’s how bad things get for some of us in the Corporate States of America. We actually can’t afford food or a decent place to live or clothes or medicine or all the things that many of you watching take for wanted.

  “Everything changed for all of us in Cooperville during the predawn raid Wednesday. Based upon lies, trumped-up charges, that we now know came directly from Ham Cooper, District security forces attacked and began destroying our shelters, scattering our belongings, and rounding us up like common criminals. They treat their dogs better than they treated us. They claimed that we were a national security risk because we were hiding drugs and weapons. But they knew those were lies. They put us on a forced march to this stadium, through the streets of the capital, to get us out of the way. That’s because we are living proof of the brutality and failure of policies of the Corporate States of America. But the world is now seeing the truth.

  “Adam, well, innocent Adam wasn’t even lucky enough to get to this hellhole. He was trampled to death. It is fitting and proper that we should be here, in RFK Stadium, to remember the short life of Adam, who was killed before he had a chance to grow up and make something of himself. In 1969, this stadium was renamed for U.S. Senator Robert F. Kennedy, who was assassinated the year before as he campaigned for the presidency of the United States of America. To those of you who are too young to remember, the U.S.A. was totally different from the Corporate States of America. Its policies and government were ‘of the people, by the people, and for the people’— not, as they are today, for the benefit of corporations and the rich, to hell with everyone else. RFK would be ashamed of what we are today—and he would have fought against it if he had lived until today. And so, as a fitting tribute to Adam’s life and memory, I ask you to commit yourself to challenge the warped values of the Corporate States and to return to those that made this nation great.” As he takes his seat, the audience stands and applauds and shouts, “John Galt Killed Adam. John Galt Killed Adam. John Galt Killed Adam.”

  “Thank you, everyone,” the woman says, as she replaces Frank at the microphone. “My name is Irene. I too lived in Cooperville on the Mall before I was forced out two days ago and made to walk through the streets barefoot to get here. That’s right! The Cooper thug who pulled the stakes of my tent out of the ground so it collapsed
on me wouldn’t even let me put my shoes on when he told me to march. ‘But I’m barefoot,’ I told him. ‘Too fuckin’ bad, bitch,’ he answered.

  “Today is an unofficial national day of mourning for Adam. And the White House has declared it an act of terrorism. But I’m thrilled to report that, at this hour, there is a nationwide work stoppage. Nothing is happening anywhere. The Corporate States of America is completely shut down. Maybe now, Cooper and his thugs will understand who really makes this country possible.

  “I want to ask five of the children who used to live in Cooperville and who are now are pretty much in jail here to come forward.” They line up in front of the coffin and each one holds a single white rose. Irene takes the microphone out of the stand and places it in front of the children as they speak together, then one at a time.

  “We speak for all the children of Cooperville, who only want a chance to live, and play, and grow up to be good people.”

  “I speak for the children from the North.”

  “I speak for the children from the South.”

  “I speak for the children from the East.”

  “I speak for the children from the West.”

  Then, together, all five say, “We speak for the children from everywhere. We speak for Adam. All of us are Adam.” One by one, they put their roses on the coffin and walk away.

  Over the loudspeaker, a voice announces that this concludes today’s ceremony. The pall bearers begin moving Adam’s coffin out of the stadium, followed by Roger, Anne, Frank, Irene, and a line of fifty children. In the sky, out of nowhere, the following words appear: “Adam lives. John Galt Is Dead.” The audience breaks out in deafening applause and chants the message until the procession is out of sight.

  SEVEN

  Excoriate, Bloviate, Celebrate

  SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 10 A.M.: THE WHITE HOUSE, EAST ROOM. President Cooper agreed to meet with his Corporate Council, fifty heads of the nation’s major corporations and his de facto bosses, who demanded he meet with them. The usually quiet, staid group is noisy. People have congregated in threes and fours. Some are shaking their fists. Others are shaking their heads, lips pursed, brows knitted. They ignore the president when he comes in, until he taps the microphone at the podium and asks them to take their seats.

  “These are difficult times for all of us, I know,” he begins.

  “You said it!” someone yells from the back of the room.

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Cooper continues, trying to ignore the interruption. “I invited you here to assure you face-to-face that we have everything under control.”

  “Mr. President, Mr. President, I’m Jonathan Smythe of Consolidated Industries,” a tall, totally bald man in his early fifties says as he pops up from his seat in the front row. “Mr. President, first of all, with all due respect, we asked for this meeting—not you. Second, it appears to us as though you and your administration have lost control. You’re looking like impotent fools, with all due respect. And you’re making us look like a bunch of idiots for supporting you. Something’s gotta give. You’ve gotta keep a lid on things for us. You need to protect our markets. Can’t you control a bunch of malcontents? Frankly, I’m beginning—almost all of us are beginning—to think that John Galt, and everything he stood for, is dead, just like all those fuckin’ antigovernment banners are saying. And we’re coming to the conclusion that you’ve killed him. At least that’s what everyone’s thinking, even if they’re not saying it.”

  “Mr. Smythe, I don’t take your comments personally,” Cooper answers dryly.

  “Well, you should!” Smythe snaps back. “Who else do you think they were meant for?”

  “Obviously, you’re upset and you have every right to be,” Cooper continues. “But you’re just plain uninformed and misinformed. So, let’s set the record straight. Anyone who thinks like you is simply falling for the terrorist propaganda that the media love to pick up and throw in our faces. You know who runs this country now—and who has for sixty-seven years. You know that all the power is on our side everywhere—at the national level and in the states, right down to cities. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed. It took us a while, but we’ve got the courts sewn up with people who think like us. There hasn’t been a ruling against corporate interests in decades— and there isn’t going to be. We’ve got what’s left of the Congress and state legislatures in our pocket. And you know my White House is always on your side. There may be grumblings from time to time from loudmouths and troublemakers stirred up by outside agitators. But we’ve been able to crush them in the past and we’ll do it again. Only this time, we’ll put them out of business for good!”

  “But Mr. Cooper, I’m Harold Klein of International Networks,” another member of the audience says, as he jumps up, shaking his head back and forth quickly. “Surely, you understand that the killing of the young boy Adam is a game-changer. He is now a symbol for everyone who is against you—against us. The whole world was watching yesterday, literally the whole world. People who didn’t know anything about John Galt or Coopervilles or Free-for-All economics are suddenly calling us greedy and grasping fascists. They’re saying we’re all coldblooded killers. We’re losing the PR war. Even if it was an accident that the kid was trampled, and of course it was, no one in his right mind would have intended to do something like that, it has turned almost everyone against us—and by everyone, I mean the world, literally the world. All you hear on the news is that the CSA is run by a bunch of child-killers. I’ve been getting calls from my associates all over the world asking what the hell is going on here. And you know what that means—they’re worried about their investments. Some are even threatening to back out of deals. I can’t have it! I just can’t have it! I won’t have it!”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen—and lady, of course—I fully understand your frustration. So, let me outline our counteroffensive, which is why I asked you to come here today,” Cooper says—again forgetting that they called for the meeting. “We are not sitting by and getting steamrolled by a bunch of lazy, homeless, deadbeat tramps. By the time we get through with them, there won’t be anymore camps, no one will slander me anymore by calling those dumps Coopervilles, and the country will get back to normal. My administration will be stronger than ever after this recent unpleasantness.

  “First, at 1 p.m. today, right here in the East Room, I am going to speak to the nation and hold a press conference about the facts in the Adam case. The FBI has completed its initial investigation, and let me assure you we have proof that the whole thing is a put-up job. My administration is not responsible for that kid’s death, and everybody’s gonna know it by the time I’m through. We own the press. So, this will be a cakewalk. I’ll speak, they’ll ask questions, I’ll answer, and the whole matter will be put to rest.

  “Second, we’re gonna pull out the stops for this year’s July 4th Presidential Gala. By the time we’re through with the fireworks, Adam and his fuckin’ family will be nobodies again and we’ll get back to the business of business. That’s what I’m here for. We make the world safe for business and keep a lid on ‘the people.’ You know that! That’s what I’ve always been here for. And that’s what I’ll continue to be for when I’m reelected.

  “Ham?”

  “Yes, Mortimer,” the president says to the head of Gayle’s Department Stores. “Ham, I lost millions when those mobs shut down ten of my stores. Real shoppers saw TV reports and were so scared, they stayed away. My employees were afraid there might be violence. We were afraid of lawsuits if anyone got hurt. We had no choice but to shut everything down. And we stayed closed Friday, not because we wanted to, but because those guerrillas—that’s what they are you know, terrorist guerrillas—called for a nationwide shutdown during the bullshit they put on at RFK Stadium over the death of that kid. It made me fuckin’ sick. I went on TV and they made me look like a greedy bastard. Even my wife said I looked bad. Who’s in charge of this country now—our companies or mobs of people?�
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  “Mortimer, that’s why I’m speaking to the country and holding a press conference this afternoon. I’m gonna pass out the FBI report. And by the time I’m finished they’ll get the facts in the Adam case and we’ll look like victims of a subversive conspiracy, not greedy bastards. Everyone will know who’s really in charge. There won’t be any doubt.”

  Abner Richards, an investment banker, says, “Bullshit! To anyone who falls for the bullshit about greed, I say bullshit. I’m proud of being greedy. I don’t care what people call me. All I care about is the bottom line. You goin’ soft on us, Cooper? Is that the problem? You lost your spine? Are you the real problem? We don’t have a single, goddamn thing to apologize for. We’ve got billions at stake. You better use this as a chance to ram Free-for-All economics down the throats of the fuckin’ people, whether they like it or not. If we’ve still got socialist looters who think they’re gonna bleed us, to hell with them. Round ’em up and put ’em in jail. Come on strong, Cooper. This is war, and we’d better win it. The problem with the cleaning out of the Mall Cooperville was that the cops didn’t come on strong enough in the first place.”

  Aristotle Khouris, an ethnic Greek living in Rome, rises and slowly, in an impeccable British accent, adds, looking intently at Cooper, “I agree with everything that’s been said about coming on strong. It’s our only option. This Adam affair couldn’t have happened at a worse time, but we don’t have to take it lying down. We’ve got trillions of dollars on the table. Let me repeat, trillions, not billions. I have spent the last three years putting together the three-country European strategy that will make every one of you richer than you could ever have imagined and I’m not about to see it destroyed.