The Ascendant

by Peter Parkin

  His campaign manager, Rod Crenshaw, had planted all the right seeds. Strategic leaking of teasers here and there, coy interviews with the media, and of course booking the convention center with a hint that a major announcement was coming.

  Sandford Beech wasn’t a household name at the time all of the hoopla started, but he quickly became one. Media hype was Crenshaw’s strength and he used print, television, and social media to his advantage. In fact, his efforts practically overwhelmed the news cycles in all three mediums. The man was a genius at strategic positioning, and Sandy was shocked at how quickly he’d become a celebrity.

  Sandy’s status as a hero, and medal winner, was blasted everywhere—more so than Sandy was comfortable with. But, he knew he had to back off and let the experts do their thing. If left to him, his profile would never be known. Because, Sandy wasn’t prone to boast.

  Rod Crenshaw had set him straight right from the beginning: “Sandy, if you intend to make a serious run of this, you have to back off. You don’t have to blow the horn—we’ll do it for you. But, that’s what wins elections. Trumpeting a verifiable profile, or, if not verifiable, embellishing it to the point of euphoria. In other words, if we have to, we just make shit up. Luckily, with you, we have a lot to work with. It doesn’t look like we’ll have to make any shit up.”

  So, Rod went to work. The West Point connection was emphasized as well as detailing Sandy’s acts of bravery at the Quincy Market attack. Of course, he focused on the deaths of the loves of Sandy’s life, and Sandy’s selfless act of killing the terrorists and saving countless lives before even checking to see if he could save his own family.

  Sandy was uncomfortable with most of this, but he let Rod do his work. He’d reluctantly accepted the reality of what made voters vote, and what made them learn to love a candidate.

  His hero status was now firmly implanted on the campaign, and in every news organization that covered it. And, true to form, every news outlet wanted a piece of him. Because he was new, fresh, and a shot in the arm to what had so far been a boring Democratic primary season with yawn-inducing candidates who engaged no one.

  None of them had Sandy’s pedigree, although all of his Democratic opponents were indeed bona fide politicians. The fact that Sandy wasn’t a politician worked in his favor. He was a curiosity for that reason alone.

  But the hero thing was working better than anything. He could tell just by the way people talked to him, looked at him, applauded him, wolf-whistled him. The adoration in their eyes was hard to ignore. Everyone loved a hero.

  And Sandy was left with the depressing thought that voters were pathetically shallow. How easy it was to hypnotize them into worship. Which probably explained why Linc had been equally successful at brain-washing a large portion of conservative voters.

  A significant fringe portion of conservative voters were gaga over Linc because he was delivering to them a message of intolerance, fear, anger, and hate.

  And liberal voters were gaga over Sandy because he was a genuine hero, and supportive of equality, fairness, love, and hope.

  But both he and Linc were just spewing words. Voters had no assurances that either of them would actually be true to those words. Which merely reminded Sandy that words indeed meant everything in campaigns, but, that memories would fade after the excitement was over.

  His keen intuition about himself told him that, in only the short time since he’d made the decision, his brain had made the distinctions, accepted the realities, and adapted accordingly. Sandy could feel that he was slowly and surely becoming a politician and that his brain had rationalized what needed to be done.

  He raised his arms in the air, motioned with his hands for the crowd to stop their cheering and resume their seats. They complied immediately, and he was astonished at the power in his gesture.

  He was in a world now that he never could have imagined, and he was surprised at how much he was enjoying it. In fact, he was a bit ashamed of himself for how much he was enjoying it.

  He continued his speech, expertly using the microphone to his advantage. Allowing his voice to resonate its pitch up or down, depending on the emphasis needed. Sandy had always been a powerful public speaker, and this was the grandest stage he’d ever occupied.

  He had their rapt attention and decided to hit them with the closer.

  “Most of you would love to ask me why I’m running for president. Well, I have nothing to hide. I never had any ambitions to be a politician, but sometimes the average man has to step up to the plate.”

  Sandy composed his features in a look of humility. “I am just an average man, despite the way I’m being portrayed in the media. I decided to run for president because I’m disappointed by the message being delivered by the leading contender for the Republican nomination. I’ll even mention his name, which seems to be a taboo in politics. I don’t care about taboos—I’d rather tell it straight up.”

  The newly minted politician swept his gaze across the crowd and took in the looks of expectation, of encouragement.

  “Senator Lincoln Berwick, from the great state of Texas, is running on a platform of hate, division, and fear. I became concerned, listening to his speeches, and became even more concerned realizing that his message was resonating with voters. No doubt he will be the successful Republican nominee, and I decided that I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed him to go on from there to defeat the Democrat nominee. And, from what I’ve seen of the roster of Democrat candidates, none of them have a chance of defeating him.

  “I, on the other hand, can and will, defeat him. I want to be your Democratic nominee. For, if I am not your nominee, I predict that Lincoln Berwick will be the next President of the United States, and I worry about that.”

  The crowd rose from their seats and cheered again. Sandy waited a respectful few minutes before motioning them to quiet. As before, his command had an instant reaction.

  He was astonished at the magic of it all, and equally astonished that he was actually getting pretty good at this command and control stuff. Much easier than he thought it would be.

  “So, my answer to the question of why I’m running for president is a simple one. I want to stop Lincoln Berwick from occupying the Oval Office. And, perhaps other politicians who preceded me over the last few decades had that same simple reason for running as well. Just to stop someone else.

  “It may not be the best reason to enter politics, but, perhaps that’s just an honest answer that most have been afraid to admit to. So, I’ll admit to it, and I’m confident that the message I have for Americans is far better for the country than the message he’s delivering, and for that matter a better message than all of the other candidates as well. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming out tonight to witness this historic moment. I am now officially in the race to become President of the United States!”

  As he knew it would, the crowd erupted.

  Sandy raised his arms in salute and gave the cheering throng time to vent its enthusiasm before once more signalling for quiet. He wasn’t finished yet.

  “I plan to break the mold as a candidate,” he said. “Starting right now! So I’m prepared to take a few questions. Just give me a second to move down along the ramp to be closer to you.”

  45

  Sandy made his way along the stage, while security cleared a path for him to walk down the ramp that was extended into the crowd. This had been Rod Crenshaw’s idea. To bring sort of a town hall setting to the end of his speech. If it worked, Rod wanted him to do it at all of his rallies. Would set him apart from the other candidates, make the crowd comfortable with him, and help create the image of the “common man.”

  Sandy walked down onto the ramp, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t trip and fall on his face. The ramp was about three feet off the ground, allowing him to be close to the people lining it, while at the same time being just far enough up from them
to avoid being swamped. Following a discrete distance behind him were two burly security guards, paid for by the campaign. As this was all new to him, Sandy was comforted that they were there.

  He stuck his microphone under his arm and signed a few autographs along the way. The ramp extended about fifty feet out into the auditorium, and people were crammed in along the edges trying to get a closer look at him.

  One of his campaign organizers down in the crowd signalled for him to stop. The man’s index finger pointed down at the top of the head of a well-dressed man. Sandy knew this was his cue to take a question. The campaign guy handed the man a microphone.

  “Dr. Beech, thank you for taking my question. You mentioned in your speech that you were against foreign military interventions. Can you elaborate on that, please?”

  Sandy smiled down at the man. “Yes, glad to. In simple terms, I don’t think America should be involved in offensive positions in foreign lands. Our military should be defensive in nature, kept at the ready to defend our country and its interests, not to attack other countries in attempts to get more friendly governments in power. We interfere far too much, and it’s no wonder we’re despised in many countries. We’ve created chaos, deaths of innocents, and a refugee crisis that is out of control. We did that not because we were threatened, we did it because we felt it was our right to interfere.”

  “But, we have a large military budget, Doctor. Do you intend that to be maintained?”

  “No, my plans involve reducing that budget substantially over a period of years. Presently the annual budget for the Pentagon is well over $700 billion, and a lot of Americans aren’t aware of the fact that we have close to 800 military bases in 130 countries. Yet, no other country has a base on our soil.

  “Why do we do this? In my opinion, it’s to be ready and able to interfere. We have to back off. The tax load on citizens is unsustainable, and our relationships with other countries are in tatters from the chaos we’ve caused. It has to end. My plan over my first term in office is to close 100 bases, as a good start to reducing our presence to no more than 500 bases over my two terms in office.”

  A resounding applause from the audience accompanied Sandy on his stroll further down the ramp.

  He was signalled again, and he stopped to take a question from a young man wearing a Harvard jacket.

  “Sir, you mentioned your plans to revise the tax structure in the United States. I’m studying tax law, so I’d be interested in knowing what your thoughts are.”

  “Thank you for the question, young man. Yes, taxation will be one of my priorities. This great country presently has a crushing debt of $23 trillion. The amount of money that comes off the average person’s paycheque just to pay the interest on that debt is staggering.

  “We can’t continue like this. We have to begin paying the debt down, and I know that’s harsh medicine, but someone has to find the courage to begin the process. I will begin it, and hopefully my successors will continue it. Because, that level of debt won’t be paid off in my lifetime, and at the rate we’re going, maybe not even in your lifetime.

  “So, taxes have to rise—my plan involves raising it primarily on the wealthy and upper middle class. The remaining tax brackets will be essentially unchanged. But, contrary to what my Republican opponent is promising, there will be no tax cuts under my administration.

  “And, as I mentioned in my previous answer, the Pentagon budget will begin to come down, as will the number of military bases we have around the world.

  “And, since other politicians won’t talk about it, I will. The unjustified wars in Iraq, Aghanistan, Syria, Libya, and Yemen have cost the American people approximately $15 trillion, and that’s a conservative estimate. Eliminating cruel interventions like those will alone begin to be felt in a positive way back home, and eventually bring taxes down.

  “Just think, our national debt would be forty percent of what it is right now if we hadn’t wasted money so recklessly in fighting useless wars, let alone the lives that would have been saved. And, let’s look back even further—Viet Nam was another mess that we should have stayed out of. The financial cost of that war still hasn’t been accurately determined, although the cost in lives is well documented.”

  There were cheers and whistles from the crowd as he walked further down the ramp. So far, despite how controversial his answers were, the people seemed to appreciate them.

  He was stopped again by a question from a pretty lady in a striking red dress.

  “Dr. Beech, thank you. I hope you don’t mind my question, because it’s a bit personal. Your family was slaughtered in the Quincy Market terror attack. Yet, you seem to sympathize with immigrants from Middle Eastern countries, and you are opposed to attacking those countries. Can you explain how you’re able to feel that way considering your personal loss?”

  Sandy hesitated for a few seconds. He hadn’t anticipated a question like this, although he should have. He felt his eyes well up with tears, but he resisted wiping them because he was afraid that would appear dramatic and opportunistic.

  “I’m okay with your question. Thanks for having the courage to ask it. My easy answer would be that if one day we’re able to fix the daily carnage on our streets of Americans killing Americans, perhaps we could turn our attention to the comparatively minor rate of murders committed by immigrants and refugees.

  “As for the Quincy Market attack, this fact hasn’t received much media coverage, but, the killers that day were home-grown Americans, not Muslims immigrants. They left notes that indicated support for the terror group, ISIS, but those three men were not even of Middle Eastern descent, and ISIS did not claim any credit for the attack.

  “Yet, despite that, politicians and the media have somehow convinced Americans that the attack was organized and planned by radical Islamic fundamentalists. This tells me one thing, and one thing only—the American people deserve to hear the truth, and not fed with propaganda to support an agenda of hate.”

  “Are you saying that the Quincy attack was politically motivated?”

  Sandy paused. “All I’m saying is that the aftermath of the attack was propagandized by opportunism. And, the facts were twisted and not disclosed accurately. The American people deserve better.”

  “Are you accusing Senator Berwick of doing that in his speeches?”

  Sandy swallowed hard. “I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just stating the facts.”

  He started to move on, but she wasn’t finished.

  “Doctor, excuse me, but one more question, please?”

  Sandy nodded agreement.

  “The recent attempted sarin gas attack on the Holy Cross Cathedral was reported to have been planned by a renovation firm that was run by Muslims. What are your thoughts on that?”

  He shook his head. “I have no comments on that. It’s still under investigation, and there may be more to that story than meets the eye. We have to wait.”

  She persisted. The way she asked her questions caused Sandy to suspect that the pretty lady in the striking red dress was a reporter, although she wasn’t wearing credentials.

  “Senator Berwick has condemned that thwarted attack as being just another example of terror by Islam. Do you support his assertion?”

  “No, I don’t. I believe in commenting only when I have the facts.”

  “Do you know more than you’re admitting, Doctor? Once again, I’ll ask if Senator Berwick is one of those opportunists you referred to earlier. And, were Americans involved in planning that attack? Was it to be a false flag, sir, a ruse?”

  Sandy started moving further down the ramp. “When the facts become clearer, I’ll have more to say. I’m not going to comment on fairy tales. Thanks for the questions, ma’am.”

  There were a few isolated claps in the audience, but, overall, the sudden silence was deafening.

  A campaign organizer signalled another questio
n. Sandy figured this was probably a good time to bring this to an end.

  “Okay, just one more question. Yes, sir?”

  An African American man, holding a pad of paper and pen in one hand and the microphone in the other, moved up to the edge of the ramp. His demeanour also screamed reporter.

  “Doctor, my research has uncovered the fact that you and Senator Berwick were classmates together at West Point. Is that correct?”

  Sandy didn’t expect this. “Yes.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “At one time, yes.”

  “My sources have told me that you were both members of an elite group called the Honor Guild. And that you were expelled from that Honor Guild for breaking some sort of code of honor. Is that right, Doctor?”

  Gasps in the audience. Sandy realized that his back was against the wall. Lying would accomplish nothing.

  “Yes, I finished off my education at West Point after I left that particular unit.”

  The man looked down at his notes.

  “Sir, is it true there was some kind of scandal that you blew the whistle on? Was that why they considered that you broke the code of honor? Tattling on your classmate? And, was it something to do with the death of an underage girl that Lincoln Berwick had been involved with?”

  More gasps from the audience.

  Sandy’s throat was as dry as sandpaper. His instinct told him to just shut up, but he knew he needed to say something and just get out of there fast.

  Struggling for saliva, he said the only thing that popped into his head.

  “Sir, this is a campaign event, and I don’t intend to sully it by commenting on unsubstantiated rumors about another candidate. This is not what I came here for tonight, and I don’t intend to play the game of dirty politics. That’s not my style.”

  Sandy turned his attention away from the reporter and looked out over the audience.

  “I look forward to a positive campaign where the views of both sides are respected, even though, at times, there will be disagreements. I strongly disagree with my opponent’s message, and I’m sure he disagrees with mine also. That’s democracy, and that’s America. God bless America.”