Born Hero

by S A Shaffer

  “Mr. Blythe is having a meeting in his office right now but will be with you shortly. How about I show you around?” Paula asked as she took David’s arm—his real right one—and led him to a desk second closest to the double doors. “Here’s your new home. We get to be neighbors!” She squeezed his arm as she pointed to the desk next to the doors. “Mr. Blythe’s through the double doors, obviously.”

  David could see shadows shifting back and forth along the crack at the bottom of the door.

  “As of now these other desks have no occupants,” Paula continued, a smile on her face. “But of course we are expecting big things in the future. Typically when visitors, constituents, or, heavens forbid, lobbyists call on us, we seat them on the benches or the couch until Mr. Blythe is available to see them. And over here …” Paula walked across the office toward the tall door opposite David’s desk. “… we have the file room. It’s where we keep our records and such.”

  She opened the door, and David looked down a long, narrow closet with floor-to-ceiling file cabinets on both sides and a rolling ladder in the middle. “Campaign contributions, proposed legislation, one or two documents on rival politicians, true or otherwise. I don’t venture in there too often given that I’m just the secretary. Politics have always been a bit too dramatic for my tastes.”

  She rolled her eyes as she shut the door and led David back to the middle of the room. “I’m afraid Mr. Blythe has the only window throughout all the rooms. Sometimes it can get claustrophobic in here, but he does share on occasion … if you ask nicely.” She rolled her eyes at David. “So what do you think? Will you be comfortable here?”

  “It’s perfect,” David said.

  He set his satchel on his desk and looked around. His eyes returned to his desk, and he ran a hand along the polished wood surface in appreciation. His desk … his very own desk.

  “Well, we are very glad to have you, Mr. David.”

  “Oh, David will do. I’m just David.”

  “In that case call me Paula.” She smiled and her eyes crinkled in the corners.

  Just then Blythe’s office doors opened and a short, porky man exited, clad in a green double-breasted suit with a long gold chain dangling from a side pocket, but behind him walked the man himself: William Jefferson Blythe IV. Tall, regal, handsome, well-built, he was everything a man should be, and nothing he shouldn’t. He wore a spectacular blue suit with gold piping, his silver hair betraying his middle age but crowning him in wisdom rather than frailty.

  “Ah, and whom do we have here, Paula?” Blythe asked with a voice to match his persona.

  “This is David Ike, our new aide,” Paula said.

  Blythe turned toward David and extended a hand, which David shook. “David Ike,” Blythe said, “it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a meeting with Mr. Lloyd Bentsen here. Lloyd, meet my new aide, David Ike.”

  “Another David Ike?” Bentsen said as he stuck out his hand. “Wasn’t that the name of your last aide?”

  “No, that was Benedict’s old aide,” said Blythe, pulling on an earlobe.

  Bentsen nodded and silently mouthed “Oh.”

  “Actually I’m the grandson of the actual David Ike,” David said.

  Everyone froze, wide-eyed, for a split second until David sighed and looked at the ceiling.

  “It was a joke,” he said.

  Then everyone laughed.

  “I think we will get along fine, lad,” said Blythe. “Won’t you come in and we will have a chat about your duties. Lloyd, thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you for dinner at the end of the week.”

  Bentsen waved as he walked toward the exit. “Good to meet you, David.”

  “And you, Mr. Bentsen,” David said.

  Blythe turned toward his office. “Come on in.”

  David hurried after Blythe’s long strides. When he stepped into Blythe’s office, he discovered that it did indeed have a window—on the floor. One large piece of glass covered most of the circular office floor. David stumbled as he stepped over the expanse. He held his arms out to steady a sudden bout of vertigo. Air traffic bustled beneath them, and the city buildings below appeared as a mess of children’s building blocks on the island they inhabited. David could see the whole of Capital Island through the hazy clouds in the span of the window.

  Blythe laughed. “I did the same thing the first time I stepped into this office. It is a bit disturbing, but you get used to it.”

  David nodded, but still stepped gingerly over the glass.

  “Not to worry, it’s quite safe,” Blythe said as he hopped up and down a few times on the window.

  Every impact made David wince. “It’s … um, fascinating.”

  Blythe chuckled and took a seat in a leather chair behind a wooden desk. “Well, David, why don’t you sit down and tell me about yourself. Do you have any family?”

  “Just a mother, sir,” David said, sitting in the chair opposite, “but she’s been sick for quite some time. This new position will help me provide for her.”

  “She must be quite proud of you. You’re rather young for an Alönian aide, yet you achieved the highest score on the PLAEE in history.”

  David smiled. The Political and Legal Aide Entrance Exam was the test all aides took before entering politics, an exam that had consumed the past four cycles of his life. “She is proud, sir, and very grateful for your kindness in giving me a chance to prove myself.”

  “Oh, it was no kindness at all. It was pure selfishness.” Now Blythe smiled as well. “I was not about to let one of my political opponents hire you and take all that intelligence for themselves. Besides, you are a part of House Braxton’s Third. You belong here.”

  David felt himself blush a little at the compliment.

  “I think we have a mutual opportunity,” Blythe went on. “The harder you work, the more I rise. And if I rise, you rise. I think it will be a very profitable relationship for both of us.”

  David gave a small nod. “I am eager to prove myself, sir.”

  “Good, good. And now—”

  But the whistle of a clock on the wall interrupted Blythe.

  “Ah, that would be the call to Assembly,” Blythe said. “Fancy a walk?”

  David furrowed his brow. “To the Assembly?”

  “Well, I didn’t hire you to make tea. Don’t you want to come?”

  “Yes, sir,” David said.

  He jumped to his feet and then wobbled on the glass floor, but steadied himself and followed Blythe out. Blythe led David through the halls of the Capital Orbital. David would casually maneuver around the window-floors—and the thoughts of falling, screaming, and death that accompanied them. It happened much more often than David would have preferred.

  “Good morning, Mr. Blythe,” said a young lady, catching David off guard as he sidestepped another window-floor.

  “Good morning, Susan.”

  David twisted around as he walked, trying to nod politely at all the faces that looked at him. Eventually Blythe led them into a grand foyer, a good fifty feet high and twice as many wide. An enormous bay window stretched across the wall, capturing the rising sun within an enormous frame that almost stretched across the entire room. David had a hard time removing his eyes from the gilded Alönian mountains in the distance. They stood as brothers with the Capital Orbital, equal in height and grandeur. He gaped, right up until he stumbled into the back of someone who uttered a short yelp.

  David spun and caught a young woman before she fell to the floor, but not before she dropped an armload of books. She regarded him with narrowed green eyes, peering out of her now messy hair—beautiful hair. Deep auburn tresses billowed around her shoulders like rolling red waves.

  As he helped steady her on her feet, David stammered out an apology, then bent to pick up her books. “I’m … I’m so very … very sorry. I’m an idiot. I’ve just never seen so many things and …”

  Everything else David planned on saying
dribbled away as he proffered her books and looked into her eyes. They sparkled green in the sunlight.

  “Um … new … here,” David finished.

  She reached for the books with pursed lips and just the hint of a smile. “It’s quite alright,” she said. “It’s not the first time someone bowled me over in these halls, but it is the first time someone has refused to give me back my books.”

  David jerked his head back upon noticing that he indeed still did clutch her books while she tried to accept them.

  He let go of them, and she chuckled as she tucked the books under her arm. “First time on the orbital?”

  David hung his head a bit and nodded.

  “Don’t feel embarrassed. If it was the first time I’d seen this view, I probably wouldn’t have noticed plain, little me either.” She flashed an exquisite smile at him before walking away, a red sash billowing behind her as she disappeared into the crowd.

  “Are you going to flirt all day?” came Blythe’s voice from an uncomfortable distance, giving David a start. How long had he been there?

  David hurried after Blythe as the man crossed the foyer, but looked back twice at where the beautiful girl had been. Once at the opposite end of the room, they walked through a grand arch. David stepped through and froze when he realized where he was: the Assembly Room of the Thirteen Houses of Alönia. The auditorium thrummed as people filtered in from every side of the circular room. The domed ceiling and tiered floor gave it an egg shape, with a glass skylight at the top and a glass floor at the base.

  “Up here, David.”

  David looked to the right and saw Blythe climbing a flight of stairs to a box. Some gold lettering marked it as Braxton Third District. Once David had climbed up the stairs and entered the box, he gazed around in openmouthed astonishment. The circular room divided into thirteen different sections, each labeled on a giant banner that hung down over its section: Hancock, Barlett, Thornton, Hopkins, Ellery, Huntington, Floyd, Livingston, Stockton, Franklyn, Stone, Nelson, and Braxton. Each house possessed between four and ten districts, depending on its size. Braxton held seven.

  “William, my boy, how have you been?” a representative called from a neighboring booth.

  “Edward, how are you?” Blythe said. “You haven’t been back since … well, since that little incident at the lake,” he added in a subdued voice.

  At this David perked up, realizing to whom Blythe was speaking. He leaned toward the conversation. After twenty cycles of being a representative, Edward Moore had taken House Braxton’s center stage, but not via his political career. After a financial banquet Moore, a married man, had given a woman named Josephine a ride home in his racing skiff. Officially, there were no romantic inclinations between the two, and the skiff malfunctioned and crashed into Opal Lake. Moore had attempted several times to resuscitate Josephine before leaving and seeing to his own injuries. He’d also failed to report the incident until the next day. Given that Josephine was already dead, there was little need.

  “Yes, dreadful business,” said Moore. “Haven’t been able to sleep since, what with all the accusations flying around. The Voxil actually mentioned murder and adultery in their last printing.”

  “The Voxil always accuses us of murder and adultery.” Blythe said with a snort. “Sorry to hear it, old boy. Probably for the best you’ve been hanging low. Good to see you back, though. Oh, Edward, this is my new aide, David Ike.”

  “Really? I used to have an aide named David Ike,” said Moore, a twinkle in his eye. “A relative of yours, perhaps?”

  “I think we all have a relative named David Ike, sir,” David replied to the merriment of the others.

  “Yes … yes, I suppose that is true,” Moore said. “And, William, I presume you remember my aide, Eric Himpton.”

  Blythe nodded. “Yes, how are you Eric?” Blythe said. Then, turning to David, he added, “This is my new aide, David.”

  Eric stood as tall as Blythe, with tan skin and slicked-back charcoal hair. He stuck out a hand and presented David with a wide, handsome smile.

  “It’s a pleasure, David,” Eric said.

  “Likewise,” David replied as the two shook hands.

  However, when Blythe turned back to Moore, David winced as Eric squeezed his hand with considerable force. When he pulled away, the tan aide made a show of wiping his hand on his trousers.

  “Good to see you, Edward,” Blythe said as he and David moved on to their box.

  Blythe stopped and leaned toward David. “So what did you think of Eric, David?” Blythe asked under his breath.

  “Um … well, he has quite a grip,” David said as he massaged his hand.

  Blythe gave a sly smile. “He does have some cause not to like you. You knocked him off his pedestal.”

  “How so?” David asked.

  “He was the previous record holder for the highest score on the PLAEE.”

  “Oh,” David said. He chanced a glance up at Eric, who stared stone-faced at the central dais.

  “Hello, Representative Blythe,” came a female voice.

  David turned and saw a young brunette with short-cropped hair walking up the stairs next to their box.

  “Hello, Cynthia,” Blythe said, smiling at her.

  “How do you remember all their names, sir?” David asked. “There are so many.”

  Blythe paused to wave at two additional aides coming up the steps. “Sarah, Mary … good to see you both.” He looked back at David and smiled. “Remembering names has always been a gift of mine. … Oh, hello, Representative Hilton. How is your son doing, Amy?”

  But before she could answer, there was some commotion as the speaker of the houses took his seat at the central dais. David noticed a bit of a frown wrinkle Blythe’s face as they sat and the room stilled.

  “You disapprove of Speaker Walker, sir?” David whispered. “I thought same-house representatives were close?”

  “Tell me how one becomes speaker of the houses of Alönia, David,” Blythe whispered as the echoes dissipated and the room grew silent.

  Sensing this was a test, David chose to give a detailed reply to a question that every schoolboy would know how to answer: “Every three cycles there is a house census. The district representative with the largest population represented becomes speaker. For the past eleven cycles, it’s been Representative Walker, from the Sixth District of House Braxton.”

  “Quite right,” Blythe said. “And despite being one of the only Pragmatics in an otherwise entire Assembly of Equalists, he manages to snag the most coveted position—and despite being from a geographically ordinary district, without any beaches or impressive mountains to speak of. … Tell me, how?”

  “Well …” David said, pausing.

  “Take your time,” Blythe said as the speaker called the Assembly to order.

  An enormous puff of steam shot from the center of the auditorium and resolved into the bored shape of Speaker Walker rising from his seat.

  “Comes now this 9th Assembly of the 3241st cycle,” Walker said. “We shall now hear all motions, starting with the representative from the Fourth District of House Floyd—Representative Albert Arnold.”

  Another puff of steam resolved into Representative Arnold’s form as he enthusiastically rose to his feet.

  “Mr. Speaker, the House Floyd representatives are unified in their motion to ban all uses of aerosol polymers as quick sealant for airship balloons. We are convinced that releasing such aerosols into the atmosphere could cause lasting damage to all air-breathing inhabitants.”

  “You are convinced that they could?” Walker asked. “If they could or could not, how are you convinced?”

  David heard some general rumbling in the Assembly as Representative Arnold sputtered before saying, “We are convinced that our house is unified in this motion and that it has the support of representatives from many other houses. Will the speaker not recognize the overwhelming support of the representatives and by extension the people?”

  �
��Well, when you put it that way,” said Walker, “I really have no choice, now do I? If you would submit your scientific proof of recorded damages caused by aerosol polymers, I will begin the banning process immediately.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” Arnold said. “You will find our scientific proof of theoretical damages inside our motion. It very clearly points out that if any organism breathes such polymer, there would be—”

  “I’m sorry,” Walker interrupted. “You said theoretical damages.” His steam projection picked up Representative Arnold’s motion and thumbed through the pages. “There is not a single recorded incident to any type of organism resulting from aerosol polymers. As I understand it, these particular aerosol polymers harden and become harmless once they reach temperatures below 180 degrees. Therefore the aerosols are harmless once they exit the balloons. Unless you know of any organism that lives inside of airship balloons where the temperatures are in excess of 250 degrees, I fail to see how your theoretical propositions have any practical merit.”

  The auditorium rumbled with jeers and boos.

  When the noise died down, Arnold said, “You would risk so much in the face of probable harm? What if one of these airships crashed in a schoolyard? Will you swear, here and now, that any children involved in such an accident will not have their lungs filled with aerosol polymers? There is enough support in this motion to push it forward with or without your consent.”

  “Interesting,” Walker replied. “Your theoretical situation requires a ship to crash in order to create the possibility, which is exactly what would happen if you took away that airship’s aerosol polymers and it was not able to seal a ruptured balloon.”

  The auditorium rumbled again, sounding to David like a zoo during feeding time.

  “In addition,” Walker said, “you are wrong about my authority. Every Alönian warship in the armada uses aerosol polymers, and the speaker has the right to veto any motion that affects the military if that motion does not have direct and applicable evidence to credit it. Your motion is vetoed.”