Candidate of the Apocalypse: Episode 13

"The Convention"

August 27:  Miami, Florida

Charles and company were elated, but exhausted.  While most of the other potential candidates had sequestered themselves to prep for this event, and the requisite debates, he had continued apace with his schedule.  He still had a standing offer to speak with any group, anywhere, but now his minimum crowd expectancy was 1,000 people or more.  And he had to turn down meetings.  Charles’ popularity was soaring.  He found time to prepare while travelling and when the rest of the world was sleeping.  

The convention itself was something of a madhouse.  But Charles and company seemed to draw energy from the crowds.  But he was also quite aware that his every move was going to be scrutinized by the delegates and powers that be.  The slightest misstep could spell disaster for a candidate.  At the start of the convention eight men were vying for the candidacy.  But it was only the top few who were considered the real contenders.  Every day there was debate, speeches, and voting.  The group thinned rapidly.  The first to drop out were the bottom  two.  Then, quite unexpectedly, the number two guy did the same.  Charles moved up a notch.  The last debate would ultimately decide who the candidate was.  

Four men stood on the stage before a packed house as the moderator gave the debate rules.  All that work, money spent, time, and preparation came down to these few minutes.  This was it.

Charles was relaxed and precise with his answers, showing he had a good grasp of the issues at hand.  Every once in a while he would slip in some of his characteristic subtle sarcasm.  The crowd responded with enthusiasm.  Then, halfway through, a question was asked about illegal immigration.  

Charles reply:

“Let me ask you a thought question.  Who owns America?  Does the Federal Government own it?  Believe me, there are some in Washington who would like to!  But no, actually it’s you.  You own America!  So now the question becomes simple.  Let’s just say, for the sake of example that you own a house that has a nice, large front yard.  Beautiful, isn’t it?  Now let’s imagine that you notice people walking across your yard every day.  Not a few people, mind you, and not just the neighborhood kids.  These are people you’ve never seen before.  You have no idea who they are, their motivation, or intent.  

You grow tired of this unceasing traffic.  So now what?  Can you do something about it?  Certainly.  You build a fence around your yard.  Now, who can come in?  You, of course, your friends, and people you invite in.  Like minded-people.  

So why is it any different for the nation?  Now, we can have a somewhat liberal policy about how many people we allow inside our borders.  That’s fine with me.  But don’t you deserve to know who is coming into your country?  Don’t you prefer like-minded people?  People who want to be here, who love freedom like you do, who have the same values as you?  Not criminals, not drug runners, or the like.  We want, and deserve good people.  The Federal Government has a sworn responsibility to protect it’s citizens, you.  Shouldn’t we hold them to task on that?”

Charles’ answer was met with growing applause and cheers.  Someone in the crowd shouted, “What about amnesty?”

Charles stepped from behind the podium and walked to the edge of the stage.  Even though he was not supposed to.  His time was up.  But he felt compelled to answer.  

“Amnesty?  For people who are here illegally?  Oh, come on!  Don’t we already have an path for citizenship in place?  Don’t foreigners come here from every point on the globe, and spend years working hard to be able to say, I’m a U.S. Citizen.  It’s a process.  The same should be true for anyone here illegally.  There are several ideas out there about the best way to incorporate them into our society.  Like, how long they have been here.  If they have worked hard, been law-abiding people, or, if someone who is a citizen can attest to their character.  It's not been decided which path is best.  But that also should also be a process.  Does it make sense to you to simply grant citizenship by fiat to a group of people whom we know nothing about?   It’s absurd!  And a slap in the face to all those who came here legally.

This answer was met with a standing ovation.  It took the moderator some time to get the crowd to quiet down so the debate could continue.  Charles was reprimanded for his breach of protocol.

At that point the candidacy was decided.  Charles would be the winner.  But the reason was not what most people thought, that he was the best candidate.  Charles was a sacrificial lamb.

What very few people knew was that days before, at the beginning of the convention, the big-wig party bosses had got together to estimate their candidates chances against the current resident of the White House.  The difficulties of winning against a sitting President were well known.  Their conclusion was, no way.  None of the candidates could win even though the President and his policies were unpopular to the average citizen.  The insiders wanted the number one guy to be their candidate, but if he ran and lost this election, he would be branded a loser and his chances in the next one would be diminished. They picked Charles- to lose.  He was betrayed by his own party. 

Candidate of the Apocalypse: Episode 12: "Fish Fry"

Year: 2037 Late April

"All right class, would you guys be terribly disappointed if we stopped a little early today?"

The Teacher's offer was met with enthusiastic cheers.

"I thought so!  You are dismissed."

His happy students charged out of the room talking excitedly.  In a moment Teacher was left alone to wash the board and cough.  The last bout left him a little dizzy and he had to sit down for a few minutes.  He regained his composure and walked to the rear of the room, straightening the desks as he went.  He picked up a book, closed the new door and turned around to take in the scene outside.   

His students and their parents had gathered around a large open air grill. The smell of cooking food was rising in the air.  In this case the main course was a rare delicacy - fish.  A wagon  fashioned from a large tank stood nearby.  The two horses which pulled it had been unhitched and were standing patiently nearby.  A manger with food had been placed close enough for them to eat.  

Last fall some of the men had cut the top off of the tank and filled it part way with water, which became ice in the winter cold.  Snow filled the rest of the tank.  They put the top back on and insulated the sides with various materials so it would take a long time for the ice to melt.  A week ago these adventurers left town bound for the coast.  They reappeared last night with the tank full of various specimens of large, beautiful fish.  The ice kept their catch fresh for this day.  

Here was the start of what in the old world would be called spring break.  School was in recess for three days.  Teacher was all right with the time off because he would need to study.  Last fall he traded for three coveted books, all printed in the 21st century.  Well, what used to be called the 21st century anyway.  That means of reckoning would no longer be necessary.  The world at large ceased counting any time before the Great Darkness.  This was year sixteen by the current calendar.  Teacher looked down at the text.  'Engineering Mechanics, vol. 6'.  It was a college textbook, but his students could handle it.  Their math skills were first rate.  He placed the book on the outcropping of an old wall for the moment.  He would pick it up after the party.  Taking a deep breath, he found that his lung didn't hurt as much as usual.  The warm sun was doing him good.  His limp was less noticeable too.  

Teacher mingled with the crowd and greeted everyone with a slight smile and a nod.  Several parents complimented him for his efforts at school.  Pretty soon he was eating heartily while the adventurers, happy to be at the center of attention, described their expedition.  

At the end of the Great Darkness, the sea, like the skies above, were black with all manner of poison and disease.  But they cleared quickly.  Now, the fishermen said, the waters were clean and almost clear as glass.  Their aquatic excursions took them directly over the city that used to be Los Angeles.  It now more closely resembled Atlantis.  The shattered and ruined skyscrapers rose out of the water like mute sentinels.  At low tide the boats would cruise above what formerly was one of the most famous cities in the world.  The crowd hung on to every word as they described trolling the grid of streets, watching fish and sharks swim where luxury cars used to drive, some forty feet below.  

Teacher finished his last piece of fish and followed it with a gulp of milk.  At this moment the townspeople were gathering to play.  The songfest would be starting soon.  He worked his way to the edge of the crowd and quietly retreated back to the wall where he had placed his textbook.  From this vantage point he could listen and thumb through the book.  The difference between he and them was never more apparent.  They were now, the present and future generations.  That's why he felt so driven to teach as much as his skills and (prodigious) memory could remember.  His students were the first generation of this New World.  They would set the bar for everyone to follow.  He wanted them to be capable as possible.  But even though he felt good right now, teacher knew that his life was waning away.  He belonged to another age, one gone forever.  Only a few of his generation survived the upheavals that killed about 80% of the world's populace.  

The music started.  Teacher put the book down and rubbed his eyes.  it was getting hard to concentrate.....

August, 2012

"Hey, do you have a second?" It was one of the delegates.  

Charles nodded,  "Just a moment."  And turned to the reporter to finish his answer.  

His life was now one meeting after another.  Some were big, as in the one he had just finished, speaking to a crowd of over 2,000 in St Louis, Missouri.  Others were small, sometimes at a restaurant, sometimes at an office.  The proverbial 'smoke-filled room.'

Charles' kidnapping and dramatic rescue had done wonders for his campaign.  He was courted by the networks for interviews.  And his email and social media numbers went through the roof.  These proved to be a boon at odd times.  He found supporters just about everywhere he went.  Some, especially those in the media would quietly cheer him on, especially if their superiors were hostile to his campaign.  But coming into the Iowa Caucus he was still considered a serious underdog.  The tendency was for the party elite to think of him as lucky, but lacking in substance.

Working with a national party proved to be exasperating at times.  Even though they popularized themselves as the party of law and conservatism, often times they came out in opposition to Charles' proposals.  Yet his team had carefully worked out the various positions based on voluminous input from all over the country.  All his ideas were perfectly reasonable.  Charles didn't let this get to him, instead, he concentrated on how positive the results would be for the country.  

There were several moments when Charles thought he would be pushed out of the game, but every time he would impress someone enough to help him.  These people were mostly what he called the 'old guard' members of the party.  Very influential but not widely known.  It turned out that the majority of those who claimed leadership were less interested in moving the party forward, and more interested in fundraising and the status quo.  But the numbers simply weren't in his favor at this juncture.  Not enough of the old guard types were willing to back him.  So now what to do?  He attempted two things, one was to approach the leadership of those delegates backing candidates who for one reason or another had dropped out.  If he could convince them to roll their votes over to him, his numbers would increase automatically.  The other strategy was to simply get as many of his own followers as possible to register as delegates.  By the beginning of August fully half of the possible candidates had dropped out.  Charles and his team had worked to exhaustion, but the stakes were too high for them to quit now.

It was a great day when Charles got the call.  The old guard had talked at length about his viability as a candidate and thought his campaign had great appeal to the ordinary voter, as well as the momentum.  Among the contenders he was in third place.  The national convention in Miami was only two weeks away.  Charles was ready for the national stage.