Born Hero

by S A Shaffer

  Linden hands gripped the arms of his chair, chest heaving and breath hissing between clenched teeth. “I won’t let you take my business only to … to … to fill it with city scamps making worthless piles of—”

  “Fine,” David interrupted. “We’ll let the courts decide.”

  A long pause hung in the air like a stench. Linden’s face contorted through several versions of rage. For a moment David thought Linden might set his thugs loose and the district police would work overtime the next day looking for all his pieces.

  “Take it!” Linden said. “But you won’t find me in this city any longer. I’m not going to sit back and applaud while a bunch of know-nothing do-nothings ruin my facility. Now get out. GET OUT!”

  David and Blythe ignored the rest of Linden’s shouts and the glares from his bodyguards and saw themselves to the door.

  “I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Blythe said as the two stopped at a food cart on their way back to Blythe’s Cloud Cutter.

  “Agreed,” David said before sinking his teeth into half a dumpling. “We would have won condemnation, but the expense might have pushed us over the edge.”

  “True, true,” Blythe said, looking around the street and letting out a deep sigh.

  David glanced around. It definitely wasn’t the friendliest part of the Third—bars or boards on all the windows, locks on all the doors. The only businesses doing well were those of a sexual or illegal nature. A couple of old, dented steam cars rattled by and splashed water on David’s trousers.

  “You know,” Blythe said. He used his napkin to brush off David’s pants, then went on, “I can remember a time when this street was filled with commerce. Happy, laughing people eager to do a good day’s work. It wasn’t too long ago that all the commercial ships in Alönia were designed and manufactured right here in the Third. Then the Sixth came along and pulled all our jobs away. Look at us now—one measly little airsail company and a whole host of dance clubs. Everybody we walk by is either between jobs, between homes, or between sedatives.”

  Even as Blythe spoke, a man stumbled out of the nearest dance club and breathed out an unnatural cloud of vapor.

  David frowned but then nodded at Blythe. “We can change it, sir. We already are. If we succeed this week, this area will never be the same.”

  “You are an absolute pleasure to work with, David. You really are.” Blythe smiled. “You are going to go far in life, and all the houses will be better for it.”

  David blushed. He couldn’t think of a reply to that, so he just smiled. After stuffing the rest of the dumpling into his mouth and savoring the sweet and salty flavors, he and Blythe walked back to the 71.

  The rest of the week flew by like an airship on high burn. The Third District Property Administration approved the condemnation papers without question. District engineers certified the site plan for the airship transportation facility, agreeing to keep the documents off the public record for two weeks. After a quiet meeting with many winks and nods, Beldon agreed to move their headquarters, contingent on Public Pharmaceutical’s relocation. Overall, after the first few sleepless nights, David found himself with very little to do. The only thing left was the Assembly motion, and that was on Blythe. Day after day David watched his mentor’s shadow move back and forth across the crack under his office doors as the politician rehearsed his speech. However, in no time at all David sat gazing down at Speaker Walker’s bored expression as he announced the 10th Assembly of the 3241st cycle.

  Blythe squeezed David’s arm and gave him a reassuring nod, reminding David to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The auditorium quieted as William Jefferson Blythe IV keyed in his motion. He stood and waited as the central steam projector puffed out his form.

  Every second that passed felt like an eternity as David’s heart ran wild with anxiety.

  It will work, he thought. It has to!

  THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS

  “Mr. Speaker, honored Representatives of this grand Assembly, I make this motion by myself,” Blythe said with his baritone voice. “My fellow representatives know nothing of it. Indeed, it is the first time I have spoken of it.” Blythe tilted his head and rubbed his jaw with a palm. “I have spent the last nine cycles promoting social fairness, seeking a balance in taxation according to individual capacity. My goal was to impart finances back into the hands of the needy. It has not been enough, and I know in the depths of my soul that I could have done more.”

  As Blythe paused for effect, David leaned forward in his seat in anticipation.

  “My schools are underfunded. My populous is underfed. And each day that I delay making a commitment to my district’s children carries a dear cost. Physicians are increasingly diagnosing my people with acute depression. Suicide is on the rise as my people turn to self-help drugs because the availability and funding for antipsychotics is far below demand. We are few, we are feeble, but the benefit of Public Pharmaceuticals would help us more than you know in both jobs and available antipsychotics. I petition this Assembly and make a motion to transfer Public Pharmaceuticals to the Third District of House Braxton. As I am alone, I am in need of a second to present my motion to the speaker.”

  “I second,” said Representative Hilton of House Braxton’s First District.

  Blythe nodded toward her. “Truly, Representative Hilton, the Third District thanks you.”

  The entire room held its breath as everyone looked toward Speaker Walker. The speaker’s steam projection appeared perplexed, like he suspected a trap but was unsure where to take a step to move forward. “Although your story is … painful,” he finally said, “I cannot grant a motion that would take work and resources away from my own district. With regret, Representative Blythe, I must deny your motion.”

  The Assembly booed and shouted.

  “Think of the children!” someone said.

  “Have you no heart at all, sir?” another called out.

  David did his best to put on a face of disgust, but in truth he was smiling on the inside.

  Once the voices died down, Blythe asked, “Is that truly the reason, sir? You hide behind the needs of your people, but in your heart you only crave power. Will we allow this?” Blythe said as he turned to speak to the rest of the Assembly. “I come to you today to appeal to your better judgment. For too long we have bickered. Too long we have squabbled over power and ignored the needs of our constituents. When did the representatives of Alönia trade the good of the people for the comforts of wealth? When did the representatives of Alönia prostitute their offices to the highest commercial bidder?”

  He shook his head and let his shoulders slump a bit. “I grow tired. … I grow tired, I say, as my floundering district suffers and nobody lifts a finger. I remember a time when the citizens of the Third were wealthy, prosperous, and content. I remember a time when commerce flowed in and out of our district, as it did in every district of every house … but no longer. Greed and pride swallowed it up. Companies more interested in helping themselves than their fellow Alönians left for better prospects and deeper pockets. Were we ignorant of their leaving? Are we innocent in their absence? No. It happened because we let it happen. It happened because we Equalists were so busy seeking to better ourselves that we lost sight of the betterment of the whole.”

  Blythe paused and glanced around. “Do we not remember our party’s creed? ‘Equal in prospects, equal in stance, equal in whole means equally more.’ That is not just some sonnet for the masses. It applies to us too—the representatives of the people. I ask you to stand with me. Stand with me in unity to redress the balance. We Equalists have a common goal and only one hindrance. And, no, it is not Speaker Walker.”

  Many faces that had been nodding along with the speech paused and cocked their heads, until Blythe continued, “It is each other. We have spent these past cycles squabbling, and the houses are worse for it. We have an opportunity today … an opportunity to strike a blow for the common Alönian. Help my district
, please.”

  The speaker, though, simply shook his head and said, “Representative Blythe, I have already denied your motion. What do you think this little tirade will afford you?”

  “I ask you, Mr. Speaker, how long will you pursue this reign of terror?” Blythe said, and David now noted a little bit of fire in his voice. “I come to you with a legitimate concern regarding suffering people, and you throw it in my face. Do you deny the needs of my district?”

  “I do not,” Speaker Walker said. “But I cannot advance the needs of your district over the needs of my own.”

  “Your district is fat on finances,” Blythe countered. “Do you deny that?”

  “I do not deny that my district is where all of your constituents wish to be,” Walker said, dropping his empathetic tone. “Perhaps you should consider some of my policies.”

  David frowned. Come on, Blythe! Don’t let him gain the upper hand. Drop the hammer.

  “I move for an Assembly vote,” Blythe said. “I move for a majority vote to transfer Public Pharmaceuticals to the Third District without the approval of the speaker.”

  Walker’s eyes grew wide before he said, “You don’t have the authority to attempt such a thing! Sit down, Blythe, before—”

  “Actually I do,” Blythe said, interrupting the speaker.

  All across the Assembly people hushed and gasped.

  “I have here,” Blythe pushed on, “a study of your rail-line population usage, dated last week. It shows your local population waiting upwards of four hours due to the burden of the workers commuting in and out of your district. Do you deny this, sir?”

  “I deny nothing. My district is the most populated of all the houses, hence the fact that I am speaker. Come to the point, Representative Blythe.”

  “I would like to read to you a particular portion of House Law.” Blythe held up a slip of paper as Speaker Walker’s steam projection actually rolled its eyes. “‘An Assembly can assert authority over a project in which it has an interest, wherefore there is a financially more tenable option available, wherefore there is a strong public interest in Assembly interference, and wherefore the current project situation is a burden to the local populous. If said Assembly has produced such evidence in a valid motion, the Assembly may ratify such authority without speaker approval through simple majority vote.’”

  It took a few moments for the words to set in, but slowly Speaker Walker’s bored expression transformed as his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Your point, Representative?” he asked.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Speaker, I am getting there. A few cycles back there was a magistrate opinion issued to resolve a dispute between House Braxton and Collin Manufacturing. Within that opinion is one line of particular interest: ‘It is overly burdensome on the local population to have to travel on trains packed with workers commuting from different houses to the manufacturing facilities.’ Therefore I present to this Assembly four undisputed facts: One, as Public Pharmaceuticals is part owned by the Houses of Alönia, this Assembly has an interest in its operations. Two, the Third District has already acquired property suitable for the proposed facility at a substantially reduced cost. Three, the Third District has a strong public interest in the jobs and resources Public Pharmaceuticals would bring. Fourth, as you yourself have admitted, Mr. Speaker, your district steam lines are packed to capacity. Adding Public Pharmaceuticals’ population to your district would be overloading your already strained public transportation system, and, according to House Braxton v. Collin Manufacturing, that is an undue burden on the local populace. Given these four facts, and in accordance with the House Law I quoted earlier, this Assembly has the power through majority vote to move the proposed site of Public Pharmaceuticals from the Sixth District to the Third.”

  The Assembly was so quiet that David thought he could almost hear the burners hissing several rooms over as the orbitals turbofans worked to keep the facility stationary.

  “Generous Maker, he’s done it!” said a representative from a neighboring house.

  After allowing time for his words to make the needed impact on the other representatives, Blythe said, “I propose a vote. Do I have a second?”

  “Wait!” Speaker Walker said, a sneer on his lips. “If Public Pharmaceuticals would overly burden my district’s four transportation lines, how would your single train line ever dream of handling such traffic? I would think there are several other districts more capable than yours to handle such commuter traffic?”

  “That indeed may be true, Mr. Speaker, but that can be addressed in a future motion. Perhaps there is a better location. However, for now, we are simply voting to move Public Pharmaceuticals out of your district and into mine. I say again, do I have a second?”

  “I second,” Representative Hilton said, and David could hear a bit of laughter in her voice.

  “Then it is pushed to a vote,” Blythe said.

  He leaned against his podium as a second puff of steam from the central dais began a live tally, currently projecting the number two. A long pause stretched out as every representative considered what was happening and the possibilities it could bring.

  “Come on, people! Take the bait,” David whispered to himself.

  Then, in an instant, the tally flickered into the number seven, then eight. As the votes came in, the projector had trouble keeping up and the steam clouded. After a few moments the whole Assembly sat still, and the mist resolved into the number sixty-one. That was every single Equalist representative.

  David couldn’t help himself. He jumped up from his chair and pumped his fist into the air, saying, “Yes! We did it!”

  And then he instantly regretted it. Every eye in the entire Assembly turned to him. Even Blythe turned back toward him with a bemused look.

  “Did you want to say something?” Blythe asked.

  David didn’t answer. Instead he sat down quickly and tried to imagine himself completely invisible. He could hear Eric Himpton say something and then snicker a few rows up. The little snot.

  “It appears your motion succeeded,” Speaker Walker said. “Little good it will do you. Do we have any other motions?”

  A dozen representatives stood to their feet, but the Second District representative from House Franklyn was first to key in: “Mr. Speaker, the Second District of House Franklyn makes a motion by itself without the majority of its representatives.”

  “Let me guess,” Walker said, sounding bored again. “You wish to move the proposed site to your district. We are going to be at this all day.”

  “Mr. Speaker, the Second District of House Franklyn has an airship transportation facility. We make our motion for the same reasons stated by Representative Blythe. Our airship transportation facility will provide the needed passage for all the commuting workers and relieve the Third District’s rail lines of their traffic burden.”

  David smiled. That trick is only good once, sir.

  “Mr. Speaker,” Blythe said, interjecting. “The Third District is fully capable of handling whatever commuter traffic comes with Public Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Really?” Speaker Walker said, his steam projection looking down his nose. “Enlighten us, Representative Blythe.”

  “The Third District engineers approved an airship transportation facility last week. It just so happens to be across the street from the Public Pharmaceutical’s proposed site,” Blythe said. “Construction begins tomorrow, and the facility will be finished before Public Pharmaceuticals can complete their headquarters’ transfer. This airship transportation facility will alleviate any burden presented by Public Pharmaceuticals.”

  One by one the representatives waiting to make their motions sat back down. A couple chuckled at Speaker Walker’s stunned look. He had very nearly succeeded in becoming a de facto dictator, only to be thwarted by a representative hardly anyone had ever heard of.

  “Three cheers for the Braxton’s Third!” Representative Hilton said.

  While some grumbled—the Pragmatics,
no doubt—most in the auditorium gave applause.

  As much as David wanted to join in the jubilation, he took a moment to look around the auditorium and note any potential threats among the other representatives. Speaker Walker, obviously—he looked as angry as a Viörn when his numbers didn’t add up. Eric Himpton wore a frown as deep as a Bergish oil well—again, not a surprise. The Second District representative from Franklyn looked none too pleased either; nor did some of the other representatives who had attempted to make the same motion. All the representatives from the few remaining Pragmatic districts wore deep frowns and scowls, the end of their minority hold over the speakership meaning big changes. David noted each on a small pad of paper. Everyone else looked genuinely pleased, but then he had a thought. Never forget to look where no one else is.

  David turned and looked up toward the citizens’ gallery. There were only a handful of people there—Paula, for one—and they were all applauding … all of them except one. A tall man in a triple-caped coat stood in the shadow of a curtain. David would have missed him altogether if the man hadn’t placed a hat on his head and then moved from the shadows toward the exit. Right before he vanished through the door, he turned. David could have sworn the man looked right at him from under the brim of his hat, but then he was gone.

  “David, my boy, we did it!” Blythe said as David wrote another note in his pad. Then Blythe caught David up in an embrace. “By the way, that was quite some outburst. You might have a future in politics, lad. Never mind that, though. We did it!”

  David did his best to keep from blushing as Blythe squeezed him.

  “I feel like celebrating,” Blythe said. “What do you think?” But Blythe continued before David had a chance to answer: “I know a great spot in the residential area of Braxton’s Third District where we could have dinner. Come on, come on, we don’t have all day.”