“We wouldn’t want that,” said Mr. Simpers.
“We promised them a prolonged non-working lifespan with free anti-aging treatments in exchange for their votes,” the Grand Assemblywoman declared. “If we turn around and suddenly try to tell fifty percent of a planetary population that they now have to start work and get part-time jobs because we have to go and liberate a few paltry fringe worlds that don’t contribute in any meaningful way to the galactic entertainment channels, or offer anything substantial in the way of real trade or scientific breakthroughs…” she trailed off.
“Or even worse, say we were wrong when we assured them we could afford to pay for everything with just a few savage cuts to a grossly inflated defense budget…” Mr. Simpers pointed out.
“Exactly! It was my two-times predecessor who promised that, and my party stands by those campaign promises. We’d have protests and sit-down movements across entire Sectors of the heartland, shutting down all ground traffic in the streets and blocking the entrances to government offices in major worlds across the Confederation!” she growled. “Plus remember that we’d be risking all of this for those savages out in the spine who still actually ‘require’ something like 80% of their planetary populations to work if they want to eat and maintain a basic standard of living!”
“Perish the thought...but let’s shift to the actual proposals on the table and the number of oppositions members we’ll need to convince or pay off,” suggested the Imperial Agent.
“They don’t even offer a living wage or mandatory free health care like in the Spineward Core Worlds—the Sector-level Core Worlds!” the Grand Assemblywoman said in a rising voice, completely ignoring the Agent. “If a citizen living in those worlds actually refuses to work, the safety net will disappear after only five years and they could literally die! Do you hear me? STARVE TO DEATH!! That’s like telling each and every person in your society that they only have five years of true freedom in their lifetime, after which they should just consider themselves enslaved to the system—and Absolute Choice absolutely stands in diametric opposition to any such system. When you have people literally dying of neglect because they refused to contribute to society in any meaningful way, what’s next? A return to the cost-benefit ratio? Mandatory death squads if you’re too old and your benefits cost too much to payout, considering your number of quality work years remaining or your productivity quotient dropped? This is exactly what our ancestors fought against,” she said passionately, “this AI-driven dribble that requires a person contribute to society or literally die!”
Her dander was well-and-truly up, but Simpers projected the air of a man every bit as interested in hearing her litany as she was in telling it.
“You can’t get more outrageous than this sort of outdated notion in a modern galactic society,” she continued. “The Confederation is firmly pro-choice and the choice to work is a personal decision, not a state requirement! Cradle to the grave entitlements aren’t a requirement—they’re a natural born right! To be a truly free society means you only contribute to that society if you choose. You only work if you choose! The ultimate freedom is to do what you want. That’s the whole point. Freedom. Of. Choice. What else has the entire human race worked for these past millennium, if not to reduce the amount of labor necessary for survival? Well, newsflash: labor is now obsolete and the very natural progression of human development throughout history becomes meaningless if we don’t grab this chance with both hands and nip it in the bud!” she cried.
“You must admit that you’re using technology you refuse to allow outside of your ‘heartland’ Sectors, and that some might argue a life of pleasure-seeking decadence or self-actualization is inherently species-limiting,” said Simpers. “That it was improved competition and expansion into new environments, increasing population growth potential, that drives the species but…I suppose that is neither here nor there,” he said firmly. “Passing legislation such as requesting an Imperial Fleet in the Spine to restore order is the reason you and I both currently have jobs.”
“And they’d be fools if they actually thought that! I realize that might be the official line your Empire likes to trot around in private but I sincerely doubt that even your Senators truly believe it,” she flared before glaring at him. “Besides which, only the Confederation Assembly is wise enough to decide which worlds are competent enough to use that level of technology.” She sniffed haughtily, “And until their awareness levels on both the social and technological front improve, we will not be releasing such techa into the hands of…”
“Grand Assemblywoman Irene Gravity, if you would please...” Mr. Simpers warned. While completely certain that if she knew what the Imperial Senate, or at least several of its most prominent Senators actually thought, she’d be horrified.
“Fine! I know what you really want is a list of who to bribe, who to coerce or convince and so on and so forth. I assure you it’s all in here,” she cut him off, flipping a file over the desk to him.
“Thank you, Assemblywoman, and I assure you my government thanks you for your cooperation as well,” he said with a bow.
“Please, let’s not pretend that it’s the Imperial Government that wants this,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s the specific Senator that’s backing you, and I’m fine with that. This galaxy was built on personal favors and horse-trading, after all.”
Simpers paused. “Just so long as we’re clear that our arrangement is between you and me not the Senator...” he warned.
“That’s fine with me. Having the man known as Mr. Simpers owe me a favor is more than enough for a ‘humble’ Assemblyperson like me,” she purred.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought it was Assemblywoman today?” he asked pointedly.
“I think I’m feeling another change sneaking up on me,” she said, running her eyes up and down the length of his body, “but I’m not quite sure exactly what it is…yet.” She eyed him, “But it might possibly even be vanilla enough for an Imperial such as yourself.”
He shook his head and turned back to his electronic data slate and the file displayed on it.
She gave a throaty laugh, which he studiously proceeded to ignore as her thinly veiled machination was exposed for the fraud it was. He didn’t have time for Confederation games right now—and he never mixed business with pleasure. Well...unless that business was pleasure.
“Alright,” he said after scanning the list the Assemblywoman had compiled. His finger moved down the list he stopped on a particular name. “The Speaker is working against us?”
“Not so much against as…open to additional persuasion,” she smiled.
Mr. Simpers grimaced. “I don’t mind paying off politicians, but I detest when a man won’t stay bought,” he said flatly.
“Man, woman or herm,” corrected Irene Gravity.
“As if what I call him will change the fact the esteemed speaker takes credits for favors and then seems to forgets he was paid when it comes time to deliver,” Mr. Simpers scowled.
“What can you do?” the Grand Assemblywoman shrugged, “Besides, the Speaker’s under a lot of pressure lately. Rumor is the extremists are threatening to throw their unilateral support behind his most powerful rival. Without,” she added in the tone of someone relaying very juicy piece of gossip, “asking for anything in return for their support. It's caused quite the scandal. One might almost think the fascists were standing on principle—if they actually had any, that is.”
“Perhaps it’s time to remind the speaker that credits aren’t the only way to motivate a man,” Mr. Simpers mused, still quietly pondering the issue of the Speaker’s intransigence.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” she demanded.
“Yes, the speaker is under threat from the loyal opposition and may just possibly lose his job,” he grunted. “I read you loud and clear.”
“Loyal Opposition? They’re a basket of blasted would-be fascist exploiters who want to bring back their version of AI exploitation!” she said
angrily. “Thank the gods for those archaic sunlight clauses only requiring five years of review before the legislation becomes permanent, and then it takes a super-majority vote in the assembly to overturn. Soon the new legislation will be permanent and we’ll have fundamentally transformed the Confederation. Then even if the seven Sectors of the Spine return, there will be nothing the fascists can do to stop it!”
“Hardly the democratic process the Confederation so loudly lauds, but quite effective in achieving both our goals none the less,” Simpers observed.
“I admit I was concerned that our little scheme would be discovered when you first presented the idea to me. It seemed…overly ambitious,” she said frankly, “however, you were right: the loss of seven full Sectors in the Spine neutered the fascist voting blocks in the Grand Assembly just as you predicted,” she smirked with satisfaction and then smiled more genuinely. “Thankfully, in another year or two we’ll be past sunlight and those automatic review clauses. When the savages on the frontiers are finally readmitted, if they ever are,” she added pointedly, “they won’t have the votes to change things back. A simple majority will no longer suffice,” she said with a satisfied expression, “the Confederation will finally be back on the right track and no one ever needs to know it was just you and me—two men in a back room, smoking cigars with a plan that transformed the galaxy for the betterment of all.”
“So say we all,” Mr. Simpers said absently, “I’m just surprised there wasn’t more backlash against the Empire than there was.”
“We handled that,” she said and then scowled at him, “are you still focused on your little ‘revenge play’?” she demanded, “you realize all our plans may turn out to be utterly useless if the Speaker loses power, the fascists are really riled up lately, Sweet Asterisk they’re willing to do practically anything, even vote for another party, to achieve their goals!”
Mr. Simpers looked at her and sighed, holding up a finger.
“One, fascists are generally willing to kill anyone who gets in their way and feed long pork to anyone that survives in order to cut down on food costs of keeping prisoners, neither of which your so-called fascist opposition appear at all willing to do,” he observed. “And two—”
“They’re blasted fascists and they would turn back the clock on every important piece of legislation from the past fifty years!” she exclaimed furiously. “The fleet was cut for a reason: the military industrial complex has been almost completely dismantled during my tenure, its workers retrained and shifted to other job sectors. The work of generations culminated in a Confederation free from the sins of its past, and you can take that to the voting booth! Now all we have to do is wait until they die off and, except for a few historical relics, the last remnants of the old militant order will be swept away. Choice, security, and the promise of a grand new age are just around the-”
“And two,” he resumed, a steely edge hardening his voice, “what makes you think that when the current speaker goes down the legislation dies with him?”
She froze. “You mean...you bought the head of the…?”
“Let’s just say that I have prepared multiple contingencies,” he interrupted with smooth confidence. “One way or another, this legislation will pass through the Assembly,” he shot her a discerning look. “I think you know my track record.” It was always best, after all, if your contacts in the Confederation Assembly were left uncertain as to your exact capabilities. It added a level of humility and caution that was sadly lacking among their internal disputes.
She sat back as implications set in, nearly concealing the nervous swallowing of an apparent knot in her throat. “Well then...” she said as a rare note of humility entered her voice.
It was a note which gave him every ounce of satisfaction he'd hoped it would.
Chapter 32: Manipulating the Grand Assembly
Simpers stepped into a room in chaos. The floor of the Grand Assembly practically seethed with activity. On one side were aids and assemblymen hurrying up and down the aisle, rapidly exchanging words and electronic files with a physical tap of one slate against another for secure data transfer. On the other side of the chamber was sheer pandemonium as fists waved in the air and multiple sides shouted at and shouted down one another.
It was hardly the refined, stately image the Grand Assembly liked to portray to the rest of the galaxy.
Of course, anyone who had access to the time-delayed feed from the Grand Assembly floor would know that lie for what it was. But several predecessors of the latest Fairness Doctrine had imposed significant restrictions on exactly who could access that time delayed feed. Citing fake news reports that viciously slandered the august body and caused significant material damage to the morale of the Confederation at large, the Grand Assembly had passed the Truth in Media act which put hard limits on what news outlets like Cosmic News Network could report that were later only partially overturned. Speculation had been sharply curtailed, although direct quotes and video clips of actual Assembly members both on and off the floor, were still allowed.
Several high-profile cases championed by among others the Media before finally working their way up before a Grand Panel of Sector Judges had been needed to reach that point, before the limits of Truth in Media were finally found.
Now every report on the Grand Assembly was required to have an opposing view presented at all times, and you either had to be employed by the government or fill out an hour-long series of disclosure and hold harmless forms, in which you were required to hold the Grand Assembly blameless for any morale-damaging content you might experience. There were also several associated waivers indicating that you held them blameless for any additional psychological counseling sessions that were required as a result of watching the direct feed news.
In short, Simpers snorted, you could get the free counseling you needed but couldn’t sue the government for any mental trauma you experienced from realizing your leaders were a bunch of clowns. Angry, rage-filled clowns at times—at least by Imperial standards—but bumbling buffoons nonetheless.
Confined to a floating visitors' booth behind security glass—built from imported Imperial mono-locsium—the Agent, currently posing as an important healthcare lobbyist, couldn’t actually go out onto the floor of the Grand Assembly. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still influence the voting process via use of the large holo-console placed in front of his highly-coveted seat.
At the moment he was monitoring the direct feed coming from the Grand Assemblywoman’s anti-privacy network. The anti-privacy network was required by all members of the Grand Assembly when they were on the floor. However, access to the feed itself was only available if the Assemblyperson granted you access, or a court order from a Sector level Judge authorized the opening of the secure servers deep in the heart of the Grand Assembly. Under the theory that, if they had nothing to hide they wouldn’t mind being monitored 24/7, the Agent had yet to encounter an Assemblyman, woman, or herm that didn’t have a blocker or blurrer of some kind that would still allow for private conversations.
“I’m honestly not sure if this is the right move, Irene,” the Assemblyman standing next to her sounded worried.
“It's Grand Assemblyherm Gravity to you, Constance,” the head of the Absolute Choice party said irritably. “And what’s wrong about it? Either way the vote goes you’ll maintain your ranking member status on the Social Services Committee panel.”
“The way you cycle through genders so fast makes it hard to keep up, Assemblyherm,” the Grand Assemblyman complained, “maybe you should just admit you’re a polymorph and save the rest of us the headache? And as for what’s wrong, how can you even ask that? Its eight entire Sectors you’re asking us to give up here. This is not like throwing a few worlds in the Bamona Quadrant to the Empire. Sectors are not peanuts or chump change, Irene!”
The Grand Assemblywoman’s eyes bulged and her hand went to her chest. “A polymorph? What a completely sexist remark! If you feel that way then why do
n’t you just go and join the fascists in the Border Integrity Movement?” she shouted. “I keep my shifts within the mandatory, legally allowed, 3 hour minimum duration, maximum 47 per month quota allowance for safe and psychologically-healthy gender identity shifts.
“Do you want to kill my career?” he retorted tensely, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. “I didn’t mean to threaten your gender identity; you know me better than that. And attacking me to stay in line may help party unity but it won’t save us when you go and try to give away eight sectors to the Empire, Irene!”
“I know your heart is in the right place, Constance,” she said, reaching over to give his arm a squeeze, “and I appreciate your absolute unity with the party when it comes to free choice like this. That said, let’s be honest here: we simply can’t afford the bailouts it would take to repair the damage that even the most generous estimates say the worlds of the Spineward Region have experienced to date.”
“Border Integrity will have a fit, the Industry Party won’t stand for losing the option of exploiting seven Sectors' worth of raw materials, and Labor will follow along with both of them like loyal little lapdogs hoping for more jobs. You know how they start screaming whenever a planet’s work force levels drop below 15 percent of the population and they lose their voter base, Irene!” Assemblyman Constance cried.
Admiral's Nemesis (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 11) Page 24