The Media Candidate

by Paul Dueweke

Elliott studied Sherwood’s shoes for a moment and then snapped to his eyes. “You know nothing about my vision or my conscious decisions.”

  Sherwood stood up and withdrew a couple paces where he pondered a cat sleeping in the shade of the Pampas grass with several wrens astride bobbing fronds just overhead. Then he looked back at Elliott and finally studied the flowers, behind which he knew a set of perfectly aligned sensors monitored his every movement.

  Standing over Elliott, he said, “Let us not become engulfed in bygone ghosts. We have some important business to attend to—business which may have a great impact on your future.

  “I will give you a simple option, Townsend, a second chance from an organization not accustomed to giving second chances. Your meddling in the affairs of COPE has nearly cost your life. I advise you to quit while you can. You Don Quixotes all have one major flaw in common, maybe stemming from a mutation somewhere in a chromosome. The bottom line is that you all think that someone cares, that if you can alert the masses, something will change.

  “No one cares, Townsend. No … one … cares. No one other than the few foolish remaining Minutemen. Burns was mostly right. You are a harmless old fool.”

  Sherwood retook his position seated beside Elliott. “You probably think people cared in the last century and that you and your Minuteman brethren can turn the clock back. Let me tell you how people cared in your century.

  “Do you know what it means when your liabilities exceed you assets, Townsend, and the only way you can live is by borrowing more and more money every day? That is called bankruptcy. Do you know that by 1970, your favorite government was hopelessly bankrupt? By the 90s, the Government had created giveaway programs to pay out about forty trillion dollars that they knew would never exist. Do you know who cared? No one, Townsend. And do people care more today? You were a fool in the twentieth century. Imagine what a super fool you are in the twenty-first century.”

  Elliott visualized Martha in the TV room with her friends. He saw bouncing nipples and peckers and game show contestants barking and smiling their way to Washington and millions of players at home cheering them on. He made no defense. “Get to the point. I don’t need a history lesson.”

  “In 1935, the Social Security Act was passed by Congress. The politicians sold it to the masses in those depression days as a way to care for people who could not care for themselves. So you say your twentieth-century Congress cares after all? Take a look at Government revenues afterward. Your Government stole those ‘contributions’—nearly a trillion dollars by the end of the century. Social Security added over ten percent to Government revenue for a dozen years after it’s enactment. Any politician with a third grade education could have foreseen that. And you know they did.

  “Whose problem did Social Security solve? Your caring Congress solved the only problem any politician ever has—revenue for his personal empire. From that empire comes votes, power, favors, status. The point is that no politician cares, or ever cared, or ever will care, about anything but where the dollars come from. The voters just want some strong, charismatic leader to whom they can transfer the burden of their conscience, which otherwise might nag them for not caring. And then Minuteman Townsend arrives to tell them that they should care about some ancient principles of freedom. You are the fool, Townsend, and those people at home, cheering for the candidates, real or otherwise, are the living reality.

  “Your obtuse concept of freedom nearly caused the total collapse of the Government. We were dangerously close to a revolution because the Government could no longer borrow to pay its bills, and millions of people depended on that for their daily survival.

  “Then some resourceful businesses teamed up with big labor and formed a coalition with a major TV network, and some Hollywood syndicates that put up unbeatable candidates with unbeatable campaigns. They called themselves The CBS Republicans.

  “Of course, the campaigns were all the same lies that the masses had come to accept, but now the politicians started making some changes. Since we owned the politicians, they worked for us; and we started making some progress toward fiscal reforms. Then another network coalition, that called itself The NBC Democratic Party, started doing the same thing.

  “After a few elections, Washington began to be occupied by the stars of the infotainment industry. Under their tutelage, the fiscal situation slowly turned around, and most people benefited. The Supreme Court supported this benign revolution with decisions that were no more unconstitutional than those of the previous century.

  “The game shows were a stroke of genius. All that hype and nonsense is exactly what the voters wanted to further isolate them from the real business of government while giving them the sense that they were participants in the great American tradition of democracy.”

  Elliott appeared to be displaced in time and space as he sat stoically with the words of the oracle tearing at his soul. He began to mumble audibly, “They all know deep down that it’s bullshit.”

  Sherwood continued, “A media republic has risen from the ashes of the popular republic. And it works. But nothing lasts forever, right, Townsend? Ultimately, power will corrupt the leadership of the media republic just as it corrupted the masses who could not handle the power they possessed in the popular republic. But the masses are still gorging themselves on their newfound freedom from choice.

  “Only one thing is certain. Whatever form our Government takes today or took in the past, it is intrinsically what the masses want. Our Government mirrors the will of the electorate. Government can have no deficiencies because it is the id of the masses. Their complaining and hand-wringing is all part of their mantra, their badge of participation.”

  Sherwood rose, puffing heavily on his pipe. The bowl nearly glowed in response. A smile came over his face as he cherished the experience. “I believe this pipe will be just fine. It needed to be burned in, to excise that which was inadequate, to temper its fiber, to transfigure its soul.” He held the pipe up and examined it briefly. Then he turned his attention back to Elliott.

  “There is one additional thing to bear in mind, Townsend.” Sherwood paused, during which the cloud of smoke cleared between them. “COPE has more spiders than you have lives.” With this, he blew a great cloud of smoke to envelope Elliott once more.

  Elliott sat motionless, searching the ground beneath him for some form of truth to repudiate what was crushing his senses, but no truth rescued him. As another plume of smoke enveloped him, he fantasized that it was some poison gas that would make everything so simple. He embraced it and drew it into his lungs, awaiting relief. No, it was just smoke.

  Sherwood interrupted the séance. “I suggest you go home, Townsend, and throw away any copies of the files you stole and go back to thinking about physics. It will be much more rewarding and will keep you out of trouble. That is my best offer, and a generous one.”

  “This is all just an espionage game to you, isn’t it?” Elliott stood up, one leg nearly collapsing in complaint. “You’re just moving pawns and rooks around as you sit in your twenty-first century castle surrounded by your eight-legged centurions. But there’s more than just pride at stake here. There’s a whole way of life changing. And the people don’t even know about the fraud you petty monarchs are imposing on them. But you must be plenty scared of anarchists like me based on all the attention I’ve gotten in the last few days. You must realize there are thousands or millions of people out there just waiting for a wakeup call, and all it takes is one trouble maker with real ammunition to set things going against you and your phony candidates and your robot assassins. You are outside the law, not me. And you’re terrified that the free media will latch onto this Nobel-Prize-winning scientist with proof of a government conspiracy against the Constitution.”

  “That is very exciting oratory, Townsend. But what about your lover? What do you suppose will happen to her career in the Party when they discover she is the one who hacked her way into the COPE files for your so-called proof?”

>   “She’ll have an even more exciting career in the revolution. She has talent you autocrats would never appreciate anyway.”

  “Indeed. What clever rhetoric. And what is the probability of such a revolution even being recognized, much less successful? Apply your mathematical skills to that question.”

  “There are some things that just have to be,” Elliott said. “I’ve come a long way in the last few days, and I have a clearer vision of where I have to go now than I’ve ever had before.”

  “How do you think the COPE computer will feel about your revolution?”

  Elliott searched Sherwood’s eyes looking for some clue to tell him how to respond, but the search was in vain.

  “Come, come, Townsend. Surely the beautiful Dr. Alvarez shared some COPE family secrets with you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Let me put it very simply. At this time, the computer knows nothing about Dr. Alvarez’s role in Jenner’s plot. But that is a variable. You see, I have developed a very special relationship with this infamous computer. Jenner was stupid—and has died for that sin. But maybe the computer would be more lenient with Dr. Alvarez.”

  Elliott squinted at his adversary. Sherwood fondled the bowl of his pipe as it drooped from his lips.

  “Maybe you can learn from Jenner’s errors,” Sherwood said to his pipe, “for your daughter’s sake. You probably did not even know about Jenner’s demise. It pays to keep well informed.”

  Sherwood didn’t see Elliott’s hand rising toward him. It grabbed his arm below the shoulder, surprising Sherwood so much that a glowing ember jumped from his pipe onto his pants. “If anything ever happens to Susie, then you’re next. And all your spiders and your cleverness and all that bullshit smoke won’t keep me from you.”

  Sherwood recovered quickly and matched Elliott’s glare with a grin. “You know, Townsend, such a threat from anyone else would be just idle chatter. But I am forced to take you seriously. Some day we must discuss how you defeated two of COPE’s finest assassins. You are quite exceptional as both an intellectual and a military strategist. I would anticipate the challenge of an engagement between us.”

  Sherwood’s face turned instantaneously serious as he wrenched Elliott’s hand away. “And you are wrong, Townsend. This is not a game to me. This is real. This is why I was born.” Then a grin began to return. “But I respect you, even admire you. That is the reason for my forbearance. Let me explain something so you can fully appreciate the value of the option I am offering you.

  “Knowledge and knowing what to do with it are the most important factors in winning. I know about Jenner and Alvarez and the Asp and the computer and Jenner’s plot. Getting that data was as simple as lighting my pipe.” With that, he snapped open a gold lighter and snapped it closed in front of his smirking lips. “With that data, plus a little creative blackmail, I have extracted certain privileges from the Asp regarding access to special assistants. All other Field Liaison Officers are merely conduits between the district and COPE. Only I maintain my own enforcement staff. Of course, COPE also maintains its own independent enforcers. It sometimes is quite interesting how we keep tabs on each other. Those two spiders who attacked you today were COPE, although even I cannot tell which are which just by looking at them. The one that you nearly stumbled over behind us is not one of mine either. I am not sure what its mission is.

  “As for the computer, I have made my piece with it. Of course, I had to get its attention first. Installing the Stone-Age switch did that quite effectively. That is the device that isolates the computer from the network managers so it cannot retrieve its spare parts as they come rolling in from all corners of the globe. It is completely outside the domain of the computer, and I alone control it. And it is not the crude affair that Jenner designed. She just never had a flair for hardware. All I need to do is activate the switch and inject the virus, a sequence I have automated in case something unpleasant should happen to me.

  “I am not so foolish, though, to think that I am immune to the malice of that computer. I am sure it immediately began its own self-defense program. Since I do not thoroughly understand its capabilities, I cannot predict how long it will take to nullify my offense. It could be two years—or two hours. But however that hand is played, I also am a moving target. And my knowledge of spiders exceeds even the computer’s knowledge of spiders. I believe I have the edge.”

  Elliott’s legs were becoming more stable now as he rose above Sherwood. “So, it’s the King Sherwood move. You control the computer, the computer controls COPE, and COPE controls America.”

  “You do me an injustice, Townsend. I have no desire to be king, although the computer may feel differently about that.”

  “How can you stand by and let COPE, or a computer, take over the leadership of America?”

  “Have you noticed who has had the reins for almost three hundred years? And you can still ask that question? The reign of slugs is over. At least now there will be some rational explanation for why things happen. It will be a better time just as the last few years have been better than your century. You are witnessing true evolution. This is precisely what Darwin had in mind.

  “Think about my generous offer, Townsend.”

  Sherwood turned toward Guinda’s deck. There was no sign of her, and the doors were closed. The spider remained standing benignly near her front porch. As Sherwood moved, it seemed asleep. Its vitality had appeared to fade as it gave the impression of being dormant during the Sherwood monologue. But such inattention was merely an artifact of the human observer since this machine continued to maintain complete attention while updating its running analysis of the entire environment within the fields of its many sensors. It made no movement and gave no hint of the vast data it processed, but it was always on duty. It never became comfortable, tired, or bored. It logically conserved energy until it needed to move, but it was always ready to act in an instant.

  Sherwood took several steps toward Guinda’s front door, leaving Elliott alone on the bench. Sherwood stopped at the sight of the spider standing motionless. He relit his pipe, puffed a couple of clouds of authority toward the spider, and resumed his stride confidently toward the door. This took him within a few feet of the spider as he walked toward the steps. He maintained his air of confidence as he passed it, glancing frequently out of the corners of his eyes. As he passed the spider, its sensors followed his movements, analyzed his trajectory, and processed gigabytes of data, all without the slightest hint of activity. But Sherwood knew it was busy; he knew the algorithms it called upon to analyze every step he took; he visualized the data streams, the logic states, the network activity. He reached the door, pulled it open, entered, and shut and locked it behind him. The spider suddenly came to life without any warning. It moved its left front leg first as it walked toward the front porch.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Denouement

  Elliott sat in the pickup in his driveway. The shadows suspended over him reminded him of the lateness of the afternoon. His mind churned out options, many of which featured him as the leader of a voter rebellion against the contempt of the major parties. He was sure there must be millions of people who care, people who would gladly embrace the freedom to vote for real candidates rather than the media packages. He couldn’t be as alone as Sherwood said. He could start with a local newspaper and get grass-roots support with his revelations of the insidious nature of the present system. Once the story got into the media, COPE wouldn’t dare try to kill him or Susie. They could only hope that he would fail to attract enough voters and finally just burn himself out.

  But he wouldn’t fail. He would attract young people to the truth, young people who could spread the truth much better than he could. He’d make Guinda understand that she could be a key element in this reawakening. He knew she couldn’t accept the lies, threats, and intimidation of the Party as she now understood it. Knowing the truth about Professor Halvorsen would ultimately dissuade he
r from serving the sinister forces responsible for her death.

  “I know I can count on Guinda in the long run,” he whispered. “I know I can.”

  He picked up the box on the front seat containing the paper and the optical disk copies of the Halvorsen files. He painfully walked to the front door and let himself in. His ears were greeted with a conversation as he approached the TV room. Martha was seated there talking with Jan and Joel.

  “You know, Marty,” said Joel, “that new Democratic candidate for senator, José Maria Yamaguchi, really looks like the right person for the job. He’s so multi-cultural; he’ll be able to represent a lot of different interests. And now being multi-sexual, she’s a really strong supporter of women’s rights, too.”

  Martha, sitting on the edge of her chair, interrupted. “I saw her on “Sex and Society” last night. She knew the answers to questions that you just wouldn’t believe. They asked her, ‘How frequently does Senator Leslie Dykes fake it with her SO, Georgina Fore?’ Without skipping a beat, she answered that Dykes hasn’t had an orgasm with Fore in over two years.”

  “That’s right,” Jan said. “Then they asked, ‘What aphrodisiac drug holds the record for … ‘"

  Elliott studied the floor at his feet. He bit his lower lip, but the pain could not divert his attention. A collage of today’s events rushed upon him. He reached out and found a wall to steady him. His eyes closed. His body swayed.

  When his eyes reopened, Jan and Joel still endured, their lips alive, their faces blazing smiles. Earnest smiles. Textbook smiles. Their voices couldn’t reach him because his own mind was churning out such chaos—the tortured echoes of the last two days. The death rattles of his republic. This ground his mind to a standstill, much like sand slays a precision bearing, but not before extorting a brutal tax.

  Elliott dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom, undressed, and was soon engulfed in a steamy shower. Guinda gushed from the streaming water to stimulate and please. And to torture. She massaged with stinging fingers, smothered with scorching lips, stole into every pore, and chafed every muscle. She exploited every sense but sound. Her voice lay dormant. Though he tried to resurrect it, he was denied the warmth of yesterday. And was thus spared today’s icy rebuff. That tradeoff was good.