And just then the waiters bring us
something to eat. We still have some time before we see Brightly. After this
good food Reuben is relaxed again and in a humorous mood. “I have a drinking
buddy from school days who is a Keeper
for Brightly. He talks too much when he gets real drunk and thinks no one else
is listening.” Reuben takes on a wicked smile. “Brightly likes to play ‘guns’
with staff. Using real guns. He always wins. There have been some accidents. And
he uses his contacts with the movie studios to borrow prop military uniforms
from their wardrobe departments to wear while he watches ‘war movie’. And he
likes to play ‘cars’.” “Cars?” I ask. “Yes he and the Keepers and other staff
get down on their hand and knees with toy cars. Brightly likes to crash his
cars into the others. Staff learn to move their hands away quickly.” Reuben then
adds that he would like to use this in his writing, but dares not. Then he
looks sad again “maybe sometime in the future I can do a ‘real book’ about
Brightly and politics.” And so we are off again to the Civic Auditorium.
We were able to park close to the main entrance
because of the ‘Magazine Reporter’ badge Reuben showed. People were still
entering, some being pushed along in wheel chairs, others have help walking by
young attendants or by wheeled supports they lean on. More than a few had
portable oxygen bottles to help them breathe. Reuben opens the car’s back
storage space and takes out a small table and a stack of Ax. He hands them to me “you can hand these out at the back. You’ll
still be able to hear the speakers there.” As we enter we see that the back of
the Auditorium has a lot of displays, some still being set up by well-dressed
young men. Music popular in the years past when the audience would have been
young and active is on the sound system. I find a space for the small table and
place the stack on Ax on top. And
just stand there I guess. I do need my own job. There is a lot of political stuff
set up near me.
There are the full size cardboard cutouts of
familiar politicians, Fightin’ Bubba’ and Cacklin’ Bud. And several others of
Brightly in costumes from his famous movie roles, as Nation’s Father, soldier
who won the war, politician who cleaned up Nation’s Capital. Some of the more
mobile who are attending are having photos taken with the cutouts. Other
well-dressed young men are finishing putting up banners on the back walls Life is Good!, You Built It Yourself!, For
the Least of These, Exceptionalism
has obligations. The ‘Founders’ True Militia’ has a booth set up at the
back wall, including members armed with their wooded toy model guns. They are
here advocating proposals. One is the ‘Fair Vote Representation Act’. This would
reduce the vote for ‘less-productive’ citizens. “We can’t just take away
anyone’s right to vote in a Democracy” one member explained. ‘One Man One Vote’
would be reduced to ‘Three Men One Vote’ for citizens ruled to contribute less
to society. An unbiased Commission
appointed by the Militia would identify which these are.
Attendants dressed like those in the mortuary
profession are standing on either end of a couch down a ways from the booth.
Seated are several real dead people, well made-up and dressed. They are holding
political campaign signs; one says I am a
Values Voter, the other I Built It
Myself! They are accompanied by
representatives for the ‘Voting Rights for the Post Citizen’ movement. This is also
a proposal of the Founders’ True Militia, a law called the ‘Heritage voting
Act’. Since the dead are part of the Nation’s honored heritage they should have
the right to vote. They are part of ‘Traditional Values’ now and would vote, if
they could, to preserve traditional values for the future. The Founders’ True
Militia would appoint another Commission of unbiased citizens that would decide
which political issues involve traditional values. The Commission could then
cast a block of votes on behalf of the Dead in favor of the traditional value. In
the spirit of democratic compromise the proponents for Voting Rights for The
Dead are open to changing ‘one man one vote’ to maybe one vote for every three
dead people. Because the dead also are not very productive any longer in some
ways either. However, it is thought the High Court might rule The Dead receive
a full vote. It would be against due
process to try to determine their productivity after they cannot testify in
their own behalf, call witnesses, and so on. Brightly supports both Founders’
proposals, or so the signs say.
Few people are coming in the main entrance now.
The only guy who looked at a copy of Ax
complained that the page had too many words on it. Maybe I should question the wisdom
of the old. Suddenly there is a hush and all that are still standing move away
from the area in the back and on up towards their seats. Music on the sound
system stops. Several armed uniformed Security men open the double doors, and
more enter and form a line on either side facing away from the passage they form.
A group of more of the well-dressed young men come in right away. Just after is
a smaller group in the slightly lighter jackets you see on Keepers. And in the center
is Brightly, perfectly dressed in the style of business attire that would have
been popular in the years past when the audience would have been young and
active. Brightly smiles and waves and moved briskly to the front and up on the
stage behind a speaking platform. There is as much applause as the audience of
the old can manage.
I can see and pretty much hear his speech from
where I am in back, or plenty enough of it anyway. Jokes to start. He picks up
a wacker and swings it slowly about. Humorous smirk. Some in the audience laugh
before he says anything. Not new jokes. Vicious fun of women who vote, of
Sonorans, of Celestials’, of ‘brainy’ people. More fun of dumb women. Serious
pause. Lays the wacker aside. Tears to his eyes. Tears all around. Raised with
love in a family. Memories. Mother teaching prayers. Father applying values. (With
the belt I bet.) Faithful long-time Descendant servants. (Did they own them?) Noble
old Indigenous hunting master, who taught him. Respect and care for the land.
For the guns. What all to shoot at. (Not the hunting master I hope)) Earnest
pause, look of earnest purpose. Talk with emotion of the virtues and hard work
of all in the past. What the wars heroes did. What the founders did. Of
self-reliance, independence, high morals. No-one took anything free. Build it
themselves. Nation strong in world affairs. Exasperated pause. Tears of
frustration now. No virtue or hard work these days. Now an evil look as he
tells about low morals, especially in the universities. Low voice. Tales of
what the students are doing; especially some of the girls. (In your dreams
Brightly.) Gasps and giggling.
Exasperated again about the current weakness of The Nation in the World.
The dangers that are all about. Pause, then loud anger at them that question
our greatness, our strength, that our best times have past. How dare they. We
still have responsibilities in the world to make it better. Suddenly overcome
with emotion, more tears. Keepers rush over. Must sit and rest a moment. Takes
his wacker up. Concern, tears in audience. Pause, then he stands again, strong
again, uplifting voice. How he, Brightly, and the audience, can make the Nation
strong, and brave, and good, again, and so on. Swings the wacker slowly about some
more. Those who can stand are standing. Those who can cheer are cheering. Some
hit canes up and down on the floor. This is not like the speeches of
presidential candidates I thought I remember from school.
[We spent a lot of time
translating this passage that seems to be notes about the ‘Presidential
Campaign Speech’. We are astounded. Is this a typical speech by their
politicians? And not for an audience of the addled or simple? Are there no real
problems The Nation faces? What are the
policies to solve the problems? And what is that remark about ‘women who vote’?
Women vote in all advanced societies. We will examine the documents for more on
this subject. Editors.]
***
As the speech ended Reuben walked quickly up to me
seeming both disgusted and impatient. He picked up the stack of Ax and to the small table said “bring
that and let’s go.” We hurry out to the car. As we packed I tried to say I was
sorry that there was not much interest in the magazine. “There wouldn’t be here”
he interrupted. About the only other thing he said was “it was a nothing empty
speech and so will make a good article for me.” And not much else. So I can think
to myself. If Reuben has the ways of power figured out right, then there might
not be people there. At the ‘top’ I mean. Has anyone ever seen any of them? I
haven’t. Does there even have to be? The ‘retainers’ would do what they think
they should do anyway. Yes, what if there really are no rich powerful people,
just big companies and banks and so on. Just some thoughts to help keep calm on
the very fast and dangerous drive back across the desert. Sometimes not good to
be the passenger in someone else’s car.
***
We got back. As we get close to the parking lot
near the Library where Reuben picked me up long ago this morning there is a
small foot bridge that crosses up above the street. We have to go very slow
here and I see a woman standing still at the top of the bridge facing toward
us, arms folded across her front. She is dressed in a full dark dress with a
white patch on the front almost like the pattern you see on a cat. Closer on I
see she has a hat that seems to have cat’s ears as decoration on top. There is
even a costume cat’s tail you can see coming out over on one side. Her makeup
on her face looks like cat’s whiskers. Some crazy lady. I hope she doesn’t jump
down on us. Just as we go under the bridge I see she has a very angry look on
her face and I think holding one of those slim electric rods like at the Corrections
Campus. Someone is getting back home too late. Anyone in the world who is not
him should be happy right now. As we pull in the lot where I parked my car I
turn to Reuben to say goodbye and thank him for the experience and I see he
looks stricken. His face is drained white and he is just able to say ‘I have to
go!’ The car doesn’t quite stop for me and I manage to get out the door keeping
on my feet and stumbling away as Reuben speeds off, the passenger-side door
swinging back and forth still open.
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(To be
Continued)
Contents