by Nat Kozinn
“Unique assets?”
“As you well know, despite the many vital services and the vast array of amenities Ultracorps provides to this country, the corporation still struggles with understanding and acceptance from large swaths of the nation.”
“Maybe that’s because you eat up every other industry and seem hell-bent on making sure every single citizen is both your employee and your customer,” David said with a laugh.
“The prevalence of that sentiment is certainly part of the problem, yes. We’ve run focus groups, and thanks to your interviews, you, on the other hand, are now the most popular Different in the United States.”
“Wow, even over Julia Chekov. I guess feeding most of the country isn’t enough for some people.”
“Our research shows people resent her because they feel they are forced to eat Manna, even if they’d starve otherwise. The point is that we’d like to leverage your popularity and use it to help improve Ultracorps’ image. In turn, you would be handsomely rewarded, much more than any Strong-Man working the docks.”
“You want me to go on think.Net or something and sing Ultracorps’ praises. Thanks but no thanks. I’ve had enough of the spotlight. I’d rather work the port even with the meager paycheck. I think you and me have different definitions of meager anyway,” David said.
“We anticipated that you’d like to eschew the spotlight considering your interviews at the Times came to such an abrupt end. But there is still a group of people who you could use your popularity to influence, and it could be done far away from the public at large. Politicians.”
◆◆◆
David felt unbelievably uncomfortable in the tuxedo. He knew he shouldn’t complain. Who gets a free custom-made tux and then complains about it? But he felt like he was a bull with a china shop wrapped around him. Every time he moved his arms, this was likely to tear the whole thing in half. Then he wouldn’t impress anyone.
It was hard to believe that people called what he was doing a job. Some people spent hours a day laying bricks, others spent their days sewing injured people back together, and some worked in labs devising innovative ways to change the world. Those were all classified in the same group as what David was doing: going to a fancy party full of the rich and famous so he could schmooze a handful of Metro Area political elites.
It was disgusting really. These people were supposed to be representing their districts, fighting to ensure the people who voted for them got the police, schools, and services they deserved. But instead, they were out late at night, at a fancy hotel, drinking until they could barely stand and having conversations that only ensured the already powerful had even more access to power.
Maybe things like this were an unavoidable side effect of having capitalism and democracy at the same time, but at the very least, these meetings should have been held in secret. In a perfect world, it would be a front-page scandal if a politician was ever caught selling access to themselves in such a blatant way. Instead, it happened virtually every day, so there was no story to report. Dog bites wasn’t a story, but man bites dog was. And in this case, an alderman listening to constituents over his donors would be the man bites dog story.
This would happen no matter what, David told himself. If it weren’t him doing the schmoozing, Ultracorps would have found another way to persuade the alderman that he should continue to support Ultracorps in its bid to win a contract to run the sanitation routes in the areas that were too far from the Hoovers. Sure, maybe that was one of the few jobs left for the multitude of unskilled human workers, but at the same time, it wasn’t like the Metro Area was flush with cash. According to Ms. Hanson, Ultracorps was offering to do the work for fifty percent less. There was an endless number of vital programs the Metro Area could have funded with that savings.
Ms. Hanson was right: lots of people hated Ultracorps for the wrong reasons—because they were prejudiced against Differents or because they forgot that Ultracorps helped rebuild the country after the Plagues, or because they forgot that it was their own government that had granted the corporation many of the monopolies it enjoyed.
But at the same time, there were plenty of good reasons to hate Ultracorps. It seemed to want to take over every industry in the country. It exerted an undue influence on politicians. It seemed to raise prices and rates whenever it saw a chance to make a profit. David was tired of pondering the moral quagmires. He needed to put those thoughts away so he could focus on maintaining his phony smile.
He lowered his head and walked out of the bathroom, back into the fray. The ballroom was stunning. There were crystal vases, cathedral-height ceilings with carved wooden beams—real wood for sure—and a buffet table filled with exquisite and exotic foods sitting on ornate silver platters.
Ms. Hanson was dressed to the nines, this time in a black ball gown that was made by a designer David certainly hadn’t heard of, but people who knew designers probably had. She beckoned David over to where she was talking to a white-haired middle-aged man who still managed to look bad even in his fancy tuxedo.
“Alderman Acado, I’d like to introduce David,” Ms. Hanson said.
“I don’t need any introduction. He’s the Savior of Seattle for Christ’s sake.” Alderman Acado extended his hand for a shake. “Matthew Acado. Alderman for the 12th District.”
“Please to meet you, alderman. Most people call me David these days. David Gilbreth,” David said as he shook his hand.
“Nonsense, my boy. Seattle’s still here, right? And it wouldn’t be if you didn’t save it. So you’re still the Savior of Seattle. You shouldn’t forget that, and you shouldn’t let anyone else forget it either.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, but that was a long time ago. These days, Seattle takes a lot more than just one man to keep it together. It takes a whole group of people. It takes Ultracorps,” David said, and he looked to Ms. Hanson for approval. She gave him a little nod.
“Oh, believe me, I know it. They’re the biggest line item on every budget I vote for,” the alderman said with a laugh. He was the only one smiling. “I seem to recall that you provided all of your services free of charge. Perhaps if Ultracorps practices your spirit of generosity, Ms. Hanson wouldn’t be waiting to try to talk to me every time I step out of my office.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Alderman, I’m not sure that’s a fair standard to hold anyone to. I was lucky enough not to need to eat, sleep, or pay Cost of Living Obligations. The Differents working there now have families, and there are lots of normal people who work at Ultracorps, too, keeping the corporation going even if they aren’t out there hauling or speeding around. You cannot expect all those people to work for free,” David said.
“I was joking, son, but even still, the good people at Orion Sanitation have families, too. They need food and a place to sleep. They have bills to pay as well. And as a point of fact, Orion Sanitation employs many more individuals than Ultracorps would to perform the same job,” the alderman said.
“But we are also able to perform the work for a much smaller fee, even if it’s not quite zero,” Ms. Hanson chimed in. “Think of the other lines in your budget that could be boosted.”
“I’m sure you’re already thinking about how you could funnel that money back to other Ultracorps departments,” the alderman said with another laugh for himself.
“Mr. Alderman, I’m obviously new to how this all works, and believe me, I don’t know the first thing about making a Metro Area budget, but it seems to me the same arguments could be brought up for every contract Ultracorps has. Is making one more deal going to rock the boat?” David said.
“You’re right, and that’s why I already came out in support of the contract, and that’s why I’m getting beat up like a mule in a pack of horses. Have you seen the latest polls? I had better numbers on my SATs, and that’s saying something. What’s smart and what’s popular only come together on rare occasions. That’s the difficult part of politics.”
“Oh, well, I guess if
you have to withdraw your support, there’s nothing we can do to talk you out of it,” David said and took a step back.
“Now now, there’s no reason to play hard to get. Difficult to do isn’t the same as can’t do. We can make up for votes we lose by bringing out some other voters, but that takes a PR effort, and that takes a whole lot of money,” the alderman said.
“Uh,” David stuttered. He suddenly felt like he had gotten in way over his head. “I hope we’re not talking about what it sounds like we’re talking about, because besides not having any money to bribe you with, what you’re asking for is illegal.”
“Bribe! Jesus. Keep your voice down,” the alderman said, and he turned to Ms. Hanson. “This guy really is new to this, isn’t he? I’m not asking you to pay me, son. I’m asking you to support my campaign. Now, unfortunately because of those idiots in Congress, there are limits on how much I can receive from any individual or corporation. Now, I’m assuming I can count on you two and Ultracorps to donate at those limits.” Ms. Hanson nodded. “But what I need is more donors who are doing the same. That’s where you come in, Savior. You’re quite the draw. I could host a three-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner with you as the guest of honor. Maybe have a raffle where the winner gets a meet and greet—with the proceeds going to my campaign of course.”
“I’m sure that’s something we can work out. Isn’t it, David?” Ms. Hanson said.
“And then who would pay me for that? Would it be Ultracorps or your campaign? Because I bet there’s rules about that, too,” David said.
“Let us worry about all that, David,” Ms. Hanson said.
“That’s right. Ultracorps has got an army of lawyers. They’ll smash through those rules just like you used to smash through mountains,” the alderman said with a laugh and a slap that was supposed to be on David’s shoulder but, due to David’s size, landed on the middle of his bicep. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m losing more votes from hogging your time. My office will be in touch.”
David was left wondering how he could stomach another such event.
◆◆◆
David pulled the golf club back and then let fly with a massive swing that landed about six inches deeper in the grass than it should have. The club tore through the sod under the golf ball and ripped up a massive chunk of earth. The chunk flew about ten feet through the air, and the ball rolled a few feet further. Not much of a drive.
The group of a half-dozen onlookers let out a little chuckle. The whole scene was worthy of comedy. The golf club looked positively tiny in David’s hands despite being the largest driver available. His outfit looked just as ridiculous. Alderman Acado had provided David with a custom tailor. The tailor had crafted a pair of the iconic green and blue plaid golf pants, which, when expanded to fit David, looked like they had been made for a clown. He also had a white polo shirt and a brown newsboy hat.
The six men with him were dressed in similar attire, but they painted a much less impressive visage with their middle-aged paunch overflowing the top of their plaid pants. Some of them were smoking big cigars; some of them were drinking glasses full of brown liquor. Alderman Acado was doing both. Ms. Hanson stood a distance away from the other men. These old men had gone as feminist as they could by allowing a woman onto their golf course. Inviting her into their conversation would have been a bridge too far.
“Now, that is one hell of a divot. Charlie’s going to have fun filling that one in,” one of the onlookers said while looking down into the crater David had recently created.
“Hey, the ball still went further than the first time you swung, Petey Boy,” Alderman Acado said, and then he walked forward and pushed a tee into the ground a few feet to the right of David. “I’ll make an executive decision and move the tee. The key is to keep your eye on the ball all the way through.”
The alderman placed a ball and took position to swing his driver. He took one practice swing and then let fly. The ball sailed two hundred yards and landed on the fairway. A nice drive.
“Just like that. Here, Savior, use my driver. Yours is a little worse for wear,” Alderman Acado said.
David tossed aside his bent driver and took the alderman’s club. He placed his own ball on the tee and took position. He mimicked the alderman as best as he could considering the relative difference in the two men’s size. He even took one practice swing. Then he let fly. This time he connected and the ball flew off the tee like it was headed into orbit. It was a pretty straight hit for the second time David had ever swung a golf club. The ball had a slight slice, but it was still in line with the green. The problem was that it sailed a good three hundred yards over the green and landed in a field of weeds that were not even part of the golf course.
“Hot damn!” Petey Boy said.
“That was a hell of a swing, Savior. Can’t say I’ve got any more advice for you. Overshooting the green on a par five isn’t exactly a common problem. Let’s give these other fellas a chance to show what they got. We’ll give you a drop on the green and you can show off your probably-not-that-short game, considering your power.”
Alderman Acado, Petey Boy, and David stepped back as the other men took their turns driving. Petey Boy sipped away at his glass of brown liquor. Ms. Hanson stayed close by. She wasn’t close enough to be an official part of the conversation, but she could hear everything.
“I tell you what, Savior. You might not have the touch to be a complete player, but you could put on one hell of a show at the driving range. You could sell tickets. Not for as much as we had to pay to buy this exclusive access, but you could fill up some stands. Might be more fun than working for the suits,” Petey Boy said and thumbed over toward Ms. Hanson.
“You mean donate. You made a donation to the alderman’s campaign. You didn’t buy anything,” David said.
“That’s what he meant. Petey is just being Petey. Even still, my campaign is delighted to have his support,” Alderman Acado said and put his hand on Petey’s shoulder.
“Of course, of course,” Petey Boy said, and he took a big swig of brown liquor, emptying his glass. “Me and Matt—I mean Alderman Acado—go way back. He’s got my support no matter what he keeps doing. I’m just happy my donations are finally paying off,” Petey said.
He said donation with an affectation that could not be missed. The alderman shot Petey a dirty look.
“Where’s the kid with the whiskey?” Petey said.
“Let’s go find him,” Ms. Hanson said and put her arm on Petey’s shoulder. She led the man away.
◆◆◆
“If this was a doubles match, we’d make a hell of a pair. You could handle the drives, and I’d handle anything that’s closer than two hundred yards. We’d clean up. But I’m sorry to say it doesn’t work that way. I’m surprised we had enough balls for you to play the ten holes you played,” Alderman Acado said.
“I’m not one for sports, and this didn’t change my mind,” David said.
“I’m going to go see how I did. I’m pretty sure I beat their brains in and I’m just as sure they’re going to say that they let me win out of respect,” the alderman said and walked over to his friends.
The group of men was going over written ledgers and calculating their scores. David had stopped tracking his own shots after just a few holes. He had managed to finish hole five in the single digits. That was his personal victory.
“I don’t blame you for hating sports,” Petey Boy said, stumbling over to David. He spilled some of the whiskey from his glass and then drank what was left. He clearly did not need any more, but that wasn’t going to stop him. “They don’t let your kind play. If they didn’t want me, I wouldn’t want them either.”
“I don’t know if that’s it—” David said, but Petey cut him off.
“Football. That’s the sport for you. Obviously, we can’t have the freaks playing with the normals. That’d lead to dead bodies all over the field. But what if you could play each other? Wouldn’t that be fun? I tried to get a le
ague going a few years ago. Me and a couple of other fellas with deep pockets. We had it all planned out. Six teams. We could do a mix of speedy guys and strong ones. It’d have been a hell of a show, but we got shut down by the feds. Couldn’t get a waiver to go against the Different Acts. We tried to get some senators to play ball. Get it? Play ball? But not all politicians are as accommodating as Matt over there,” Petey said.
“What do you mean ‘accommodating’?” David asked.
Ms. Hanson appeared in an instant as if she was secretly a magician.
“What are you boys talking about?” Ms. Hanson said, and she pressed up close to Petey.
“He was about to tell me about how accommodating Alderman Acado can be,” David said. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Oh, is Petey running his mouth again? He’s about the most fun there is, but he does tend to get carried away from time to time. Maybe it’s time to switch to coffee, Petey,” Ms. Hanson said.
“Uh oh, mom’s mad at me again,” Petey said.
“I’m not sure what you’re so worried about. I’m not an idiot. I don’t think these corporate bigwigs are giving away their money because they’re trying to help the poor and unfortunate. This game was as boring as watching paint dry. Can’t I at least hear some juicy gossip?” David said.
“See, he doesn’t need you to protect him, Ms. Hanson. He’s a big boy. I don’t even know why you’d try. You gave the man a job at the sausage factory. He’s going to have to see how it gets made,” Petey said.
Ms. Hanson threw he hands in the air. She wasn’t going to be able to stop Petey on her own. She walked off to get reinforcements.
“The reigns are off! But all this buildup is going to leave you severely disappointed. My donations only go so far. Matt still wouldn’t support my no-tops-for-women bill,” Petey said with a creepy look to Ms. Hanson as she walked away. He was not a pleasant man. “He was good for the old reliables, though. Got me some pretty nice tax breaks when I opened my new factory on the west side. And he killed some regulations that were costing me a ton. Even helped speed up construction on my new penthouse with a beautiful ocean view. It’s just fantastic. Those were the days. Too bad the gravy train is ending.”