They came from the same social circles, but Francis hadn’t been paying much attention to those lately. “The architect?”
“I prefer to think of myself as the designer of the planned communities of the future.”
“Of course. I hear you’re quite the visionary.” That was the polite way of saying that all Francis knew of the man was that he was another one of those opinionated collectivists who felt the world was somehow entitled to a bigger share of Francis’ money, all in the name of progress, but Drew was also a Cog of some renown, which explained why he was meeting with the President. In fact, Drew was even wearing a white armband on his suit coat bearing the meshed gear logo of the Cog. Francis frowned when he saw that. The mandatory armbands were part of the Active Registration Act, so the architect was probably sucking up to the President, and Francis automatically hated suck-ups. “Those armbands aren’t law yet.”
“Oh, this?” Drew glanced down at it. “I stand behind Franklin’s proposals and merely wish to set an example for others of our kind.”
“No, seriously . . .”
“Easy identification is in the best interests of public safety and builds better relations with the general public.”
Cogs were beloved celebrities. Of course he didn’t mind wearing it on his sleeve, but tell that to some poor Shard who didn’t want to be known as a freak, or a Reader who’d spend the rest of their life a pariah. “Personally, I’ll be damned if I ever wear one of those things. Like cattle with an ear tag.”
“We are all entitled to our opinions.” Drew gave him a forced smile.
“Yeah . . . It’s a free country. For now . . . Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Drew. Maybe I’ll give you a call the next time UBF needs another skyscraper.”
“Sadly, I am afraid my time has been too consumed with other altruistic humanitarian projects to bother with any commercialism, but please, I was just leaving . . .” The architect stepped out of the way. “I do not wish to keep you.” And then he was whisked away by the functionaries, and Francis was escorted into the inner sanctum.
Franklin Roosevelt was already seated behind his mighty desk, waiting. “Well, hello, Francis. It has been a long time.” The president extended his hand to shake, but he did not bother to stand. Francis gave him a firm handshake and found himself hoping that his palms weren’t too sweaty.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.”
The functionary hurried out and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. Roosevelt looked like a kindly man, with an easy smile, even a bit of a twinkle in his eye, but Francis had grown up in the brutal knife fight that passed for New York politics, where various rich families played at Machiavellian games, and he knew that this man had been ruthless enough to earn the grudging respect of Grandpa Cornelius, who had been as cutthroat, a rat bastard as there had ever been. That meant Roosevelt was not to be trusted.
“Last time we spoke was at a gala event put on by your father. You were about to leave for Boston for school. How time flies.”
“Yes, it does, sir.” When they had last spoken, Francis’ greatest questions in life had been how to bed the best-looking girls and where to get the best-quality alcohol. Since then he’d been drafted into a secret war, engaged in intrigue, espionage, and outright combat against all manner of nefarious magical forces, lost good friends, been shot, beaten, and briefly imprisoned, and unexpectedly wound up as the head of one of the most powerful corporations in the world. Francis was still a very young man by most standards, but the last few years had been very full. “Yes, it does.”
The president gestured at one of the high-backed chairs which had been arranged before the desk. “We were supposed to have spoken in Miami before the unfortunate events there . . . Please, have a seat.” Francis did. The chair was remarkably uncomfortable. He wondered if that was on purpose. Roosevelt was smoking, and he gestured at a golden box on his desk, but Francis shook his head politely. “You know, I’ve never been able to thank you personally for what you did in Florida. You and your German friend, Mr. Koenig, saved my life.”
“That is no problem at all. We’ve all been very busy since then.” The assassin had already struck before the two Grimnoir could react, but if Heinrich hadn’t Faded the already badly wounded Roosevelt through the hotel steps, the assassin Zangara would’ve finished him with the next magical blast. “Are you well? There are rumors that the Healers weren’t able to—”
Roosevelt waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. I assure you, I am quite all right.”
“Heinrich and I were both glad to help.”
“Of course. Allow me to thank you now. Miami was just another warning of things to come. This has been a time of crisis for our nation. I’ve got a country to get through difficult straits. Things were bad enough as it was, our people low on hope and long on debt, and that’s before the added complication of assassins’ plots and their schemes within plots. The greatest among those plots would not have been exposed if it had not been for your help.”
Yet the Grimnoir were still being painted as the bad guy, as if only they hadn’t been there to be scapegoated in the first place, then none of this would’ve ever happened. “It would be nice to hear you say that in public.”
The president laughed, even though Francis had not been joking. “You remind me of your father. That’s exactly the sort of angle he would’ve taken. He was hotheaded, a bit impulsive in our youth, of course, but there was a stalwart Democrat for you.” Francis only nodded along. He was a Republican, but that was only because when he had first registered, he had declared he was the opposite of whatever his father had been. “Has anyone told you how much you look like your father?”
Not lately. Thankfully. Francis was also told that he resembled Cornelius before he’d gotten fat. “I don’t think you had me summoned here to trade pleasantries about family.”
“Of course.” Roosevelt’s smile went away too quickly for it to have been real in the first place. Regardless of the fact that Francis had helped save his life, this was politics now. “I must remember that you are a titan of Wall Street, a captain of industry. Your time is so very valuable.”
“No offense intended, Mr. President.”
“You are correct though. Time is of the essence, and every day my proposals are stymied makes our situation that much worse.” The pretenses were gone, and now Francis was clearly speaking to the man who thought it was a fine idea for Actives to have to wear identifying badges like they were livestock brands. “I heard about your testimony earlier.”
By the time the evening papers went out, the whole world would hear his inflammatory testimony. “I stand by what I said.”
“You may want to tread more carefully in the future. You are not making yourself any friends.”
“If they don’t like the truth, then maybe I don’t really desire their friendship.”
“Regardless . . . One needs friends in this town.”
“That’s a shame. Whoever will I play bridge with?”
Roosevelt chuckled. “I see how this will be . . . Then let me clarify a few matters for you, young man. I now know quite a bit now about your society. I am familiar with your code and your manifesto. You see yourselves as chivalrous defenders against tyranny, I grasp that and I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“However, I do not believe you grasp the magnitude of the situation before us. This nation teeters at the brink of ruin and the world stands at the edge of chaos. I inherited a mess. Our industries and businesses are failing, our people are broke and hungry, and above all, they are worried about terrible events such as Mar Pacifica, Miami, or Washington. We must take firm, decisive action to assure the people that steps have been taken to prevent future acts of this nature.”
Francis gritted his teeth and cut off his angry retort. “I’ve seen your proposals. I don’t think they’ll have the outcome you’re looking for.”
“And on that point we are in disagreement
. I believe my proposals will ensure our liberty and our safety.”
Now Francis couldn’t help himself. “Look, I’m not some yokel you’re going to sway through a fireside radio chat. What is it that you really want?”
“The American people deserve to be kept safe from the magical menace.”
“Magical menace?” Francis sputtered.
Roosevelt smiled. “I understand your antagonism toward the term, but men like you are not the problem. You’re one of the good ones, Francis. You will be able to go about your life and your business with no undue extra burdens. Every other great nation in the world either has or soon will take steps toward better utilizing and protecting their Active population. We are at a crossroads of history. America must do the same.”
“Like the Imperium and their torture schools?”
“Of course not. That is barbarism.” Roosevelt acted offended by the suggestion. “However, you bring up an important point, which I fear you fail to understand. The world stands at the brink of war. World peace is threatened. I know you are far more aware of that than most of our countrymen. You are in the business of building the machines of war, and I know of your personal vendetta against all things Imperium. If it does not happen soon, I can promise you it will happen within the decade. The Soviets have turned their attention on a vulnerable Europe, and we both know the clock is ticking toward our collision against the Imperium in the Pacific.”
“I would not disagree with you there. I’d be surprised if we make it that long.” Francis leaned forward in his chair. Roosevelt knew damn good and well who was behind Mar Pacifica, not that he would ever admit it since the country wasn’t ready for a war. The event was still being blamed on Active anarchists. “We’re headed for a confrontation all right, and it will be a big one.”
“Obviously, a student of General Pershing’s would understand this. Not to mention, I have no doubt the Navy will need many new UBF airships . . . Yet, no matter how capable our military becomes, both of those nations have utilized their Actives and developed their magic to heights as yet undreamed of here. You’re no doubt familiar with Second Somme. You know how incredibly dangerous a concentration of magicals can be during a war. We are in an arms race, and America hasn’t even found the starting line yet.”
“So the ARA is just an excuse to catalog us . . . See who’s useful, who’s not. Probably get rid of the dangerous oddballs while you’re at it. That’s what Stalin does. Stick them in camps, out of the way, where they can’t hurt anybody, until you need to use them as weapons against another country.”
“There is no such plan—”
“Granada, Minidoka . . . I’m a Mover, so I guess that’s where I was supposed to go. Gila River, Topaz . . . Ringing any bells, Mr. President?”
“Save me your sanctimony. Those were the plans of Bradford Carr’s cabal. I was as much a victim of his machinations as you were.”
“But you’re continuing his dream! You’re putting the framework in place to accomplish all of his goals. All your talk of safety is just an excuse to take advantage of people’s fears. Actives are citizens. You’re taking powers never meant for your office.”
Career politicians never liked to be called on their bullshit. “How dare you . . .”
“Oh, I dare all right.” Francis was getting rather upset. “Carr had an extermination list, and now you want me to trust the same government? Even if I trusted your administration, which I don’t, what about the next one, or the one after that? Hogwash.”
“Do not take that tone with me.” Roosevelt was certainly not used to being spoken to like this, maybe in an editorial, but never to his face.
Francis hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice. “Forgive me. Extermination orders get my blood up.”
“We must modernize.”
“What you call modernity, I call slavery.”
“A loaded but misleading term.” Roosevelt sighed and shook his head sadly. “We simply have a difference of philosophy. Whether you like it or not, there will be a compromise reached. The more unreasonable your side is, the more likely you will not like that compromise.”
“I had this same conversation with Bradford Carr, in his dungeons, while I was chained to a wall . . . He thought that the government owned people. I say the people own the government. There is no compromise between those two positions.”
Obviously angry, the president put both of his hands down flatly on his great desk. “Oh, there will be a compromise. I will get my reforms and you will not stand in my way.”
“Is that a threat?”
And now the knives came out. “I’m the President of the United States. You’re the petulant spoiled brat of a blimp merchant.”
“I’m a very successful blimp merchant,” Francis corrected.
“Though I’m not sure how long you would be able to retain that position if the full weight and attention of the federal government was to be turned against UBF. Many have been clamoring to me about how UBF is a monopoly, and how breaking it up would do wonders for the economy. If that were to happen, you might find yourself in a new line of work rather quickly. That would be unfortunate.”
Not only was that a threat, that was one hell of a threat.
“I called you here so I could appeal to your senses, Francis. I need something from you. You can either cooperate, or you can be obstinate.”
“And what would that be, exactly?”
Roosevelt put away the knives and went back to being the kindly radio grandpa who just wanted everybody to be prosperous and happy. “Simple. You own Dymaxion.”
So that was what this meeting was really about. Francis bit his lip. Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion Nullifiers were the only thing in existence which could completely block an Active’s access to the Power and there were only a few remaining in existence. “You want more magical nullifiers.”
“I’ve been informed that you refuse to sell them.”
“If I had a device that made people with good eyesight go blind, or made folks with excellent hearing go deaf, I don’t think I’d sell those either. I’m practically one of your consumer safety activists.”
“I’ve been told these devices are vital to national security. The OCI still has a couple, and it is only a matter of time before some Cog is able to reverse engineer them. So any bullheaded foolishness will ultimately prove pointless. In the meantime I would be greatly appreciative if you would begin selling those to the government again. I understand these are valuable, time-consuming works, each one practically a work of art, so I can see to it that you are extremely well compensated for your labor. Surely, if UBF is supporting the government in this endeavor, then there would be no point to my new regulators paying your company any particular mind.”
Because if threats don’t work, you can always try bribery. Francis smiled. “Because without Dymaxions you can’t round up and enslave a bunch of ticked-off Actives?”
Roosevelt’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t liked that one bit. “Out of a long-time respect for your family, I tried to be reasonable, but you are being a very unreasonable man. You will turn your remaining stock of Dymaxions over to the government, and you will show us how to make more, or there will be severe repercussions.”
Francis had once boarded the Imperium flagship to slug it out with a platoon of Iron Guards and the world’s greatest wizard. Franklin Roosevelt had seriously underestimated his ability to not give a shit. “You said I remind you of my father, but there’s one big difference between him and me. He had flexible principles. I don’t. Do you want to go to war with me, Mr. President? Because if you think you can just seize my property without due process, then that’s where we’re headed.”
“Very well, Mr. Stuyvesant. If you want to do this the hard way, then that’s how we will proceed. History does not look kindly upon those who stand in the way of progress.”
Dan Garrett was so not going to be happy. “Well, this meeting is over.” Francis stood up. “Good day, Mr. President.”
/> Roosevelt pushed a button on his desk. The doors opened and a functionary came in to escort Francis out. The president’s icy glare left no doubt that Francis had made himself a formidable new enemy. “I have one last question before you go.”
He was still red-faced and angry, but he was trying to maintain some respect for the office. “I’m happy to help,” Francis lied.
“Only one man has been able to successfully nullify magic, and he works for you. Where is this Buckminster Fuller?”
Oh, there was no way in hell I’m letting these vultures sink their claws into my most valuable Cog . . . “You know how those Cogs can be, what with their heads in the clouds. If I see him, I’ll tell him you inquired about his health. Last I’d heard he was taking a vacation.”
Chapter 3
It is an odd affliction, this Cog magic. In most ways I am a man of average aptitude. Pertaining to most subjects I can reason as any educated man should, but when my intellect turns toward the topic of airships my mind simply ignites as if on fire. Thoughts pour in unbidden. Reason reaches new heights. The abstract becomes clear. Shortcomings are corrected. Weaknesses are exposed and turned into strengths. Years of scientific reasoning are completed in a matter of fevered days, and when the fire dies down I discover that I have once again revolutionized the whole world. I must wonder if I had not been born with this form of magic, would man be confined to forever using inferior forms of transportation such as aeroplanes?
—Ferdinand von Zeppelin,
personal correspondence, 1915
UBF Traveler
Buckminster Fuller was obviously not a happy Cog. “Mr. Sullivan! Mr. Sullivan! A moment of your time?”
Sadly, Sullivan had not been able to escape through the hatch in time to avoid their resident magical supergenius. It was like the Power picked the smartest human beings around to be Cogs. All Cogs were bright, even before the magic came over them, but for some folks the Cog magic arrived later in life, and they were an extra special sort of fun. “Yeah, Fuller?”
Warbound: Book Three of the Grimnoir Chronicles - eARC Page 6
