The President

by Parker Hudson

  “Telling the truth in a calm and intelligent manner, trying to show all sides of an issue, so that people will truly understand and can make an informed decision, might backfire?” A note of exasperation crept into William’s voice, despite his earlier resolve to remain calm. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the vice president was quietly smiling.

  “Yes,” Phillips said. “You never know how things are really going to appear on television. One side might lose lots of votes because someone wears a clashing tie, appears to be nervous, or just doesn’t come across well on TV. It’s too important to leave to that sort of chance.”

  “Well, we’ll tape it ahead of time. Or forget television, and we’ll make a presentation to the press and let them ask questions. We’ll hand out our charts and agree on what those should say beforehand. I just want to get the facts and choices out in a dear and understandable way.”

  “We’re all for clarity,” Watts added, “but I agree with Bill that it might not be possible in this case. However, we’ll definitely think about it and give you a response within thirty days.”

  “Thirty days? Warner, I’d hoped we could make our presentations within two weeks—that’s why we prepared all the information you see here. You need thirty days just to consider it?”

  “Yes, I think we do. It’s not as simple as you make it sound. There’s a lot at stake. Bill brought up some important points. But we’ll talk about it and let you know as soon as we can.”

  He knew he was blocked, but for some reason felt neither as bad nor as angry as he had in the past. William found himself smiling. “All right, that’s fine. Take all the time you need. The Lord willing, we’ll still be here. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some other things to go over.”

  The two leaders from the opposite side of the aisle rose and shook hands with the president’s advisors and with the vice president. “Thank you, Mr. President,” Watts said, as they left. “We appreciate the opportunity to work with you.”

  After they left, Jerry Richardson angrily summarized with words William himself would have used only months before. “Isn’t that great? We can’t pass either their program or ours because no one has a majority; we can’t explain something complex to people who are educated by our own system; and we can’t risk either side gaining a majority because we’re not certain who will win! Am I wrong, or is gridlock to be the constant American government status quo from now on?”

  The vice president leaned forward and fixed her gaze on the president. “I told you this wouldn’t work, and I’m glad they’re going to torpedo it, though not for the same reasons. We’ve got our supporters and our program to look out for! Those are too important to chance to some television debate or election, for heaven’s sake.” She tapped the top of the table with her index finger. “We clearly know what’s best for this country. We’ve done all the studies. We know we’re right. We’re in office now. We can’t waste time or risk losing our chance just because people might vote against us. The majority of people don’t have a clue! We do. Now in the name of all that we’ve worked for, stop fiddling around with these crazy ideas, and let’s get back to playing hard ball and getting our programs passed. Now!”

  William let her finish and noticed that Robert Valdez was again nodding slightly as she spoke. He realized that no one had talked to him during their first nine months in office like his own vice president had just done, but he was surprised to realize that he wasn’t angry at all, with her or with their political opponents. It was as if he had a new peace; he didn’t know exactly what they should do, but he knew that becoming angry over these issues would not help.

  “Patricia, I respect your opinion on this, but I disagree completely. We saw what our first six months were like. It’s occurred to me, sitting here today, that our nation is so divided into self-centered interest groups that we’ve lost the connecting threads that held us all together over our country’s first two hundred years. I have to agree with Jerry. The only governmental action our myriad divisions will now allow is stalemate, because to take any action implies stepping in some small way on someone’s sacredly defended turf. So gridlock is the natural result of our obstinate divisions; we here in Washington are just the closest to it, but it’s caused by everyone’s intransigence across the nation.

  “So it seems to me, Patricia,” the president continued, “that you can talk about ‘hard ball’ all you want, but it will never work, short of outright blackmail, which I won’t allow. We’re not just two political parties in gridlock. Every race, sex, ethnic group, generation, religion, city—almost every block—has its own interest group with a platform of wants and complaints imbedded in stone, just waiting for someone to violate them in some way, any way. Everyone is focused on ‘me,’ and the result is that there is very little ‘we.’ So nothing can change.”

  “Mr. President,” Patricia Barton-North said, staring intently at him, “you’ve changed. You’ve lost the fight you used to have. What’s happened to you? Oh, you still support the same programs, but your methods have changed completely. You’re too philosophical. We’ve got a war to win, and we need you to be a strong leader for all that we believe in.”

  “And what do we believe in, Patricia?”

  “Why, our programs, of course. Our platform. Progress. What we ran on. Our promises to our constituents. We can’t let them down. We’ve got to fight.”

  “Patricia, you just proved better than I could exactly what Jerry and I have been saying. Everyone in the nation feels like that, only from different persuasions. To everyone it’s a life or death struggle with no compromise, and every supposed transgression is inflamed by the trigger-happy press. Everyone’s looking for someone else to blame, either in the courts or on television. Everyone is a victim. We all want a government program to fix our particular problems. I still think some programs can help, but no one looks beyond the programs, which gain a life of their own, to the fundamental principles. What if we’re wrong on some of our details? Didn’t we exaggerate our program needs slightly in the beginning to gain maneuvering room? But now even those exaggerations are cast in stone. We won’t budge, and don’t they do the same thing?”

  Patricia crossed her arms and glared at William. “See, there you go again. I’m tired of arguing with a brick wall. You’ve got to lead us!”

  There was a long pause as all eyes focused on the president of the United States. He finally replied in a calm and almost cheerful voice, “I will. I am. But I want to lead by the strength of our ideas, the correctness of our hearts, and our willingness to listen and to serve others. I want the American people to see those qualities in us, so they’ll think we’re worthy to be their leaders and choose to follow us.”

  The vice president rose to leave, frustration clearly on her face. “Oh come on. You’ve been at this twenty-five years. You know this isn’t about the correctness of our hearts, whatever that means. It’s about power. Pure and simple. Figuring ways to make people do what we know they should do for their own good. Please shake off whatever’s got a hold of you and get back in the game. I’m sorry, but I’ve got another meeting to go to.” She walked toward the door.

  Robert Valdez rose as well. “I’m sorry, but I do, too.”

  William looked at both of them. “That’s fine. Just remember that this is a team, and I’m both the coach and the quarterback. Rightly or wrongly, we’re playing the game my way, and for now I’m convinced the old ways won’t work. We’re going to try this new approach, with or without the opposition on the program with us. The American people deserve better than they’ve had for the past thirty years, and we’re going to raise the level from a shouting match to a debate.”

  The vice president stood with her hand on the door, her anger obvious. “All right, coach. But your game plan won’t work.”

  The president, still seated, was amazed by his own calmness. From somewhere he found himself saying, “The old ways haven’t worked, either. Have faith, Patricia. Anything is poss
ible.”

  She looked at him with a strange expression, turned, and left, followed by the secretary of the treasury.

  When they were gone, William surveyed the remaining two members of his team. They were obviously confounded by the unusual exchange. He smiled. “We’ve got a lot to do, but we’ve made a good start with what our team has already put together here. I want to go ahead with a televised presentation, with Warner’s party or without it. If necessary, we’ll make their argument for them. Anyway, let’s try to be on the air in about three weeks. I’ll leave you two to figure out the best timing. And, thanks. We’re still on the same course as when we started, but I’m just tired of playing to the lowest common denominator. If we don’t raise the level, who will?”

  With that, William rose and left the Cabinet Room.

  Jerry Richardson and Ted Braxton sat in silence for a few moments. Finally Ted said, “What’s happened to the president? He’s really trying something very different. And he didn’t even raise his voice when Patricia blasted him—and her behavior was pretty inappropriate. She is right on one thing, though: he’s a different person.”

  “I wonder what it is,” Jerry said.

  13

  The Christian religion is the most important and one of the first things in which all children, under a free government, ought to be instructed.... No truth is more evident...than that the Christian religion must be the basis of any government intended to secure the rights and privileges of a free people.

  NOAH WEBSTER

  Tuesday, October 16

  Three Weeks Later

  RALEIGH—Sarah Prescott had agonized for weeks over what to do. She had listened to her friends and her parents and prayed when she remembered to. The previous week their section had begun the human sexuality curriculum, and two days ago her friend Becky had spent her first turn with the virtual reality computer. Like Jessica, she reported that at first she had felt silly. But then she became involved in the experience and wound up really liking it. “You ought to try it It’s really amazing. In fact it was awesome,” Becky had summarized that afternoon. “I can’t wait till next time. You ought to go ahead, Sarah. It won’t bite! And it really opened my eyes. Sex is kind of cool”

  Sarah’s agony had been increased by Becky’s report, added to all the others, plus Matthew’s continued praise for what he was experiencing on the computer. He told her it was preparing him for “real life.”

  After an almost sleepless night, Sarah finally made a decision. This Tuesday morning in mid-October she stood outside Ms. Bowers’s office door and knocked, her stomach churning. Soon she was seated next to the health instructor’s desk while her teacher finished grading an exam.

  “Now, Sarah, what can I do for you?” she asked, marking the exam and moving it to a small stack on the edge of her desk.

  Looking down at the notebook in her lap, Sarah haltingly said, “I...I’d like to go ahead and try one computer session. It sounds like it’s okay, and I guess I can learn from it. So please schedule me for one with my section. And I’ll decide about others after that. Is that all right”

  Ms. Bowers smiled and said soothingly, “Of course, Sarah. I’m so glad you’ve made this decision. I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. And you’re correct—you will learn a lot. I’ll arrange for a session later this week. By the way, what do your parents think?”

  “They...I...they don’t really know about my decision, though they told me it was mine to make. I just want to try it once, so I’ll know what it’s really like. Then I can make a better final decision. That seems like the most mature approach to me. So I’d just as soon not tell them until I try it and can tell them my final decision.”

  Ms. Bowers reached out and put her hand on Sarah’s forearm. “Of course. That’s fine. It’ll be our secret until you finally decide. You’re very courageous, and I respect the process you’ve been through. It seems mature and sensible to me. And, again, I know you’ll learn a lot from the computer. It’s really well done and doesn’t cause any problems at all, while teaching you so much.”

  Sarah rose. “Thank you, Ms. Bowers. I hope so. I’m just glad to be done with this. It’s been driving me crazy.”

  “I’m glad for you. I’ll let you know your schedule during class this afternoon.”

  NEWYORK—Ryan stood and smiled when Leslie walked into his office. By moving away from the door, they were able to share a kiss without others in the large bullpen area outside his office seeing them.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered, holding her.

  “Me too. Last weekend was awful. Did you have to go to Brussels?”

  “NATO accepting Russia as a full member was big news, and I needed to be there. But this weekend will be different, I promise.”

  They broke their hug and Ryan sat down behind his desk, while Leslie sat in a chair across from him. “Why don’t you come down to Washington on Thursday to cover the president’s talk and then just stay?” she asked. “Can’t you be ‘on assignment’ on Friday night—in my apartment? Valerie can handle the broadcast that night by herself.”

  He smiled. “Maybe. We’ll see. It sounds great. What should I cover on this assignment?”

  “Me.”

  He laughed. “I’ll try. They owe me a couple of days off. Listen, what’s the president going to talk about?”

  “Something about economics and their stalled domestic program, I think. I’ve never seen so much security around a speech—almost no one is talking. But one of the vice president’s press aides told me it’s going to be some sort of different approach than before. She was vague and didn’t sound too keen. If it’s so mysterious, you really need to come to Washington to help cover it.”

  “Okay. I get the message. Too bad you can’t stay over tonight after the meetings. Anyway, how are your interviews with the presidents family going?”

  She shifted in her chair. “Fine. We’ve done all three siblings, and we’ve begun editing them into a piece that should play pretty well about his childhood. We’ve got lots of pictures of his parents, many with him as well, and I think the timing is perfect to create a lot of sympathetic feelings over their deaths. You can really see where William got a lot of his good ideas, particularly from his mother. We’ve got someone trying to run down as many letters and articles as we can—she wrote quite a few. She was apparently never wanting for an opinion!”

  “They were nice people. I met them once. What a tragedy they were murdered.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “What are the president’s siblings like?” Ryan asked.

  “One of his two sisters and his brother are normal enough. Sort of all-American, though a little diverse in their views.”

  “What do you mean?’

  “Well, the younger sister, Rebecca, has been a nurse for so long she doesn’t have many views outside her profession, which is fine. Her boyfriend, Bruce, has been through a lot, and he’s really got his act together. He thinks a lot of the president, by the way. He figures William is the only hope for changing the country for the better. He said he and the president had shared several long talks on important issues, and the president is ‘right on.’”

  “Did you get that on tape?”

  “Of course. I figure it’ll help the president with the younger crowd—my age, you know,” she said teasingly.

  “Okay, okay.” He raised his hand in mock surrender. “What about the other two?”

  “The brother, interestingly enough, is on one of the ships with the crew experiments. He seems a bit conservative, actually. He wouldn’t say much, maybe because they were leaving three days later for a deployment. But I get the feeling he’s not crazy about that particular part of his brother’s package. Anyway, he and his wife seem like a perfectly normal navy family.”

  “And the older sister?”

  “Now there’s the wacko. Mary, and her husband, Graham. If you can believe it, they’re Christian fundamentalists!” She laughed. “Right in the presiden
t’s own family. They tried to hide it, I think, at the first of the interview. But I could tell—they said things like ‘we’re blessed’ and ‘God willing.’ Just like I used to hear at home all the time. So I asked them pointblank what they thought about the president’s abortion policy, and of course it came out. So anti-women! I couldn’t believe it. How could William and Mary have grown up in the same family, especially with good parents like they had?”

  “It’s hard to understand,” Ryan agreed. “How will you handle them on the report?”

  “Oh, I figure we’ll put in something about them having a strong faith, just to pick up a little support in that dying corner of the universe, and then focus on their wholesome family and their good values. We’ll use as little of their actual speaking as we can, though it may show inclusive tolerance for all sorts of views to mention in passing that they’re Christians. But mostly I think we’ll concentrate on the other two and on the president’s childhood. It should be a good piece, and should really help him, frankly.”

  “Good. It sounds like he may need it. We’ve had some pretty interesting segments in the news about the men who’re opposing the president’s programs. Some of them are pretty bizarre old guys. One has had five wives; another had a state road built to his mountain home—seventeen miles at taxpayers’ expense—when he was governor. Anyway, we should be making a pretty good platform of credibility for the president to restart his domestic program before the end of the year. I hope he’s noticing.”

  “I think he is. At least his administration is. The vice president’s press aide was very appreciative of those news stories. She said they might even have some more leads for us in the future.”

  “Great. It’s wonderful what a free press can accomplish for the good of the people!”

  GOLFE JUAN, FRANCE—On Wednesday afternoon the USS Fortson anchored off the small French port of Golfe Juan, ten miles east of Cannes. There had been little rest for the crew since their departure from Norfolk. Other than a twenty-four hour stop to check into the Mediterranean command at a base near Cadiz, Spain, the ship had been at sea continuously.