“Ok. And what is the likelihood of you ever having an abortion?”
He shuffled uncomfortably behind his desk as a few sniggers came from somewhere in the audience. “None.”
“And why is that?”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Err… because I am a man.”
“And why is that relevant?”
His jaw clenched as he realised the direction that these questions were taking him. “Because only women can have abortions.”
“I see… So – just so I’m clear – you want to reverse a law… that effects the lives of half of the Atlantian population … a half that you are not a member of … a half that I am not a member of and half of this body is not a member of, and give congress sole control over only women’s bodies? am I missing anything?”
The Senator coughed nervously in response.
“Ok… Madam Overseer…” I turned my attention to the amused looking Samantha Grace. “… seen as this is a women’s issue that only effects women… discount every male vote on the issue…”
“Wait… you can’t do…”
I silenced Senator Beaufort with an icy stare.
“That would leave 97 votes, 89 against changing the law, 9 in favour. An 86% majority.” Overseer Grace answered after checking her screen.
“This is outrageous!” the Senator boomed again, trying to regain some of his lost steam. “The people have a right to their vote on such important matters of state, you have discounted more than half of the senators here!”
“And if the day ever comes…” I replied sternly, “…when you can prove to me that 87% of the female population of this country are opposed to the current law as it stands, I will be more than happy to revisit the matter. As for discounting the male senators, if a debate ever comes up concerning sports cars, mid-life crises or what you do with your testicles, you have my permission to discount all the female votes!” A distinctly feminine cheer went up through the crowd as Senator Beaufort finally accepted defeat and sat himself back down.
“STOP!” I shouted at the cheering crowd. A hushed silence filled the room. “I don’t want any of you thinking that this is some kind of feminist issue. There is no feminism in Atlantia! Feminism implies that there are institutional and enshrined gender discriminations in the country, there isn’t! and it is even more of an insult when you consider the real and insidious policies against women that do exist in other parts of the world! There are countless laws and codes of conduct that explicitly deny the preclusion of women or any other demographic from unfair treatment in Atlantia. Job applications – for example - are not allowed to ask a person’s name, let alone their gender, or sexual orientation or creed. A person’s qualifications and experience and criminal record should speak for themselves, an employer must advertise a pay structure with every new listing to make sure that pay isn’t limited depending on who takes the job and the penalties for breaking these laws are so severe, the means of reporting them are so simple that there hasn’t been a single case of gender – or any other type of - discrimination in Atlantian legal history. This is a humanity issue, one person – no matter the justification – should not be allowed unnecessary power or control over another except in terms of the law. As misguided and ignorant as Senator Beaufort may be, the fact that that cheer was almost entirely made up of women thinking they had scored a victory against men says as much about you as it does about him! Your gender is irrelevant, so is your sexual orientation, your colour, the country you came from, the colour of your hair or what you eat for breakfast; every citizen is equal before the law!” I enunciated the last few words to make sure my point wasn’t lost.
“What the hell are you people doing!” I asked after a pause, my voice lowering as my anger became replaced with exasperation, “all of us, all of you came here because there was something wrong with wherever you came from. This country’s whole reason for being is to make a country better than the ones we left… and – of all fucking things, of all the vitally important issues facing our people - you are debating this! The fact that enough of you supported this motion to get it before the floor is bad enough, but enough of you voting in favour of it to keep it here disgusts me more than you could imagine! This kind of thinking, these kinds of policies, these opinions have no place in Atlantia and if anybody feels differently, there is the door!” I pointed towards the large oak entrance to the congressional assembly room. “I may have little authority when it comes to domestic policy, but I shouldn’t need to remind you that I have absolute authority when it comes to the safety, wellbeing and happiness of my people and the moral direction this congress takes them. There will be no more debates on topics that violate the spirit of the Atlantian constitution, even if laws are too obvious to be mentioned by name in its wording, and if I have to exercise my authority to enforce that constitution, or remove senators that intentionally violate its spirit then so be it. This congress exists for the sole purpose of protecting and promoting the welfare of the people, and those people trust you to do just that. But I hope your god has mercy on you if any of you violate that trust again, because I assure you, I will have none!”
I huffed and sat back into my chair, pausing for a few seconds to catch my breath as the assembly of congressmen and women glanced at each other nervously. “This nation is built on the rights of its citizenry… it defines us.” I started softly, “and the list of unalienable and indisputable rights is long and comprehensive, but the simple fact of the matter – one which most civilised countries are too scared to confront – is that a right granted to one person can be used to limit the rights of another. So, the question before us is simple, where do we draw the line? Do Senator Beaufort’s rights to freedom of worship grant him the right to limit senator Nvindi’s reproductive rights? Well the answer is no. To paraphrase animal farm, all rights are created equal, but some rights are more equal than others; your freedom of speech does not override another’s freedom from prejudice and persecution, your right to a fair trial does not become void because of another’s right to an opinion, your freedom of movement doesn’t mean that you can walk into someone else’s home and violate their right to privacy, there are limits… And if this façade demonstrates anything, it is that we need to codify the importance given to each right and which right gets primacy when they overlap.
“Now… My decision is to keep the law as it currently stands. That women will have unlimited, unrestricted and unmolested control over their own bodies and reproductive choices, just like everybody else. Moreover, the state will provide for any medical treatments necessary to honour those choices, providing that it is ensured that the woman in question a has a full and complete understanding of what those choices entail.
“Secondly, the People’s congress will schedule a debate at their earliest convenience to discuss a law that sets out the primacy of the rights listed in the Atlantian Freedoms Bill, how they interact with one another and the exceptions where one rights can be limited by another.
“Finally, … Madam Overseer. To ensure that this issue – and others like it – are not endlessly discussed and debated at the expense of the other vitally important work this body does. I hereby decree that no law already established within the codex can be revisited, revised or repealed without my express consent.”
“The codex has been updated.” The overseer replied simply.
“Mr Speaker, you cannot do this! it is beyond the scope of your authority!” Beaufort was on his feet again.
“Mr Beaufort…” I said with a sigh, “seeing as you don’t have the good sense to know when to stay quiet, and I have no means of teaching you, perhaps I should, instead, remind you that until this point I have overlooked the timing of your motion. With my current commitments to the UN application and other matters of state – such as the war being raged when you first tabled this motion - one could reasonable assume that I would not have been able to attend today’s debate… One could also be forgiven for thinking that my potential absence was
the reason that this issue was brought up now… Perhaps, then, I should point out that forcing this law through during my absence is one of the greatest abuses of power that a Senator can be guilty of… if he was found to have done it intentionally that is…” The Senators famously red face had started to drain of colour.
“As far as my decree being beyond the scope of my authority goes,” I continued, “I am only restricted on intervening on debates concerning domestic matters. Ensuring that congress is debating current issues, and preventing this estimable body from going over the same legislation time and time again is – by any definition – ensuring the smooth and stable running of government, and that is most certainly within the scope of my authority… as is having an investigation opened into a sitting senator and declaring them unfit for office if they are found guilty of malpractice.” Senator Beaufort sat down. “Now, is there anything else I can help Congress with today?”
“No, thank you, Mr Speaker.” The Overseer said with a wry smile. “As always, it is a pleasure to have you with us.”
With a smile and a slight bow, I retreated back into the Speaker’s chambers and returned to the tower, a wave of applause following me as left.
Chapter 32
The best laid plans
The day had finally arrived. It had been almost a year since the original application for UN membership had been filled and it had was 5 months since the end of the sub-Saharan war, the vast majority of which had been spent completing the endless piles of paperwork and formalities that came with dealing with UN Bureaucracy. The Council, Alice and I had decided months ago that – whether we were accepted or not – we would need a designated governmental department to handle these kinds of diplomatic matters in the future.
The UN was in the heart of downtown New York and it went without saying that I was persona non grata when it came to entering the US, but diplomatic dispensation had been ordered by the UN Secretary General to allow me to attend and the American administration had begrudgingly accepted, not that they had much of a choice. The ‘loyalist’ media channels in America were already calling for my arrest or outright assassination as soon as I stepped off the plane but between Alice and my Spartan security force, I was about as safe as I could be.
The UN had initially required the names of my security detail and Alice and I had briefly discussed the possibility of naming the Spartans who would be joining me in New York; that discussion had descended into an absurd – albeit hilarious – brainstorming of the most ridiculous names imaginable for the Spartans, - Frank the Spartan, Herbert the Spartan, Steve the Spartan and so on - but thankfully the UN had understood the uniqueness of our situation and had made an exception. For identification purposes, the Spartans had been numbered from one to twelve, their designation painted in white on each Spartan’s breast.
After months of work, the paperwork had been completed, the final loop had been jumped through and the Chariot – the Spartans in a following Condor – with a fighter escort raced across the Atlantic towards New York.
“Due to security concerns,” Alice explained to me as we sat alone in the Chariot, “and due to the difficulties of transporting the Spartans in normal vehicles, the UN has given us special dispensation to land directly outside the UN. An intersection has been cleared and swept for explosives, and a security perimeter has been set up.” I tugged at the nanite infused body armour I was wearing under my shirt – General Levy had been correct in his assumption of their existence - it was equivalent to tugging on solid steel and didn’t move an inch. The body armour also housed a few compact shield generators for extra protection, they would activate once we were on the ground, but a large enough explosion or a well-placed head shot would render the protection useless.
“The Spartans will land first,” Alice continued, “They will secure the perimeter and scan for weapons and explosives, once they give the all-clear, the Chariot will land, and we will proceed directly into the UN. There will be crowds and some of them won’t be friendly, so it’s not a good idea to linger outside for too long. If anything happens between the Chariot and the doors, the Spartans will get you inside as fast as possible – they won’t be gentle about it either.”
“You’re not filling me with confidence here.” I said as the endless blue ocean stretched out beyond the window I was sat next to. I had hoped for a quiet and relaxing flight – the last chance to settle my mind before the real work began - but Alice had started bombarding me with etiquette and procedural details as soon as we had we had taken off.
“The chances of something going wrong are slim,” Alice said, trying to reassure me, “but you need to be prepared if they do.”
“Ok, so what happens once we are inside the UN?”
“The Chariot and condor will move to a secure area of La Guardia airport and we will be taken to our offices. Most diplomats have suites at nearby hotels, but again, due to security concerns, we are using the apartments within the UN building itself. We won’t be leaving those walls for the next three days. The Spartans will split into three teams; one team of five Spartans will guard the offices and another team will guard the apartment, the third team – two Spartans – will stay with you at all times. This isn’t going to be a comfortable trip, Marcus, but it is necessary.”
I sighed and nodded, turning back to the window. I had grown used to the security and comfort of Atlantia over the past few years, the shadow of the US didn’t stretch that far. Even though the UN Secretariat building was standing on neutral, international ground, that ground was in the middle of Manhattan. The siege mentality that I hadn’t felt since the Harlan cabin was starting to sneak back into my gut; if the US made a move against a foreign diplomat who had been invited to the UN, they would – technically speaking – be declaring war on the entire UN, it was unlikely that even Turnbull would be that foolish, but it was undeniable; we were entering enemy territory.
Alice left me with my thoughts for the rest of the flight and I watched out of the window as – in an instant – the view changed from the blues of the oceans to the greys of downtown New York. Our flight made its way into the upper bay, passing between the Statue of liberty and Governors Island before swinging right over the East River. Even though I had been a US citizen for most of my life, I had never seen either that famous landmark, or the vibrant city around it. I hadn’t been born at the time of 9-11, although everyone knew the story and I had always felt an intense pride at the city’s response to the attacks on the Twin Towers, a landmark that – although I had never been alive to see – was still conspicuous in its absence.
Our flight continued following the contours of the East River until the UN headquarters came into view. The Condor separated from the rest of the flight and moved to the circular driveway of the UN building to deploy the Spartans as the Chariot and its Broadsword fighter escort hovered over the water. Ten minutes later Alice gave us the all clear and the Chariot moved into position over the entrance. A minute later, the chariot rocked slightly as its landing struts made contact with the ground.
I adjusted my tie, activated my shield and stepping out into the early afternoon light of the New York summer. It was like a scene from a legal drama, there was a cordoned off walkway between the landing site and the main doors, either side filled with crowds. The crowd on the left were hostile, holding banners labelling me as a criminal, a traitor or a terrorist, the deafening shouts coming from them were a hail of abuses and insults, but the UN security forces, New York’s finest and a few Spartans were keeping them in check. They may not have liked me, but they were behaving themselves and even Atlantia respected their right to peaceful protest.
The crowd on the right was decidedly more friendly, their signs labelling me as the hero of Central Africa, the righteous opponent of Turnbull’s government and – echoing my words from months before – the bastion of justice and honour. Their tirades of abuse were directed more to the crowd on the left than to me, simply applauding as I was led passed. I tried my best
to look dignified and confident, even throwing out a few waves to the welcoming crowd, but inside, I was feeling completely out of my depth.
Alice, on the other hand – who had surprised me with her desire to join me – was all smiles. Waving enthusiastically to the crowd and shaking a few of the hands that were presented to her as we passed the line of security guards. She was relishing in her opportunity to interact with new people, even in Atlantia she rarely had chance to deal with the population, her concerns over being rejected by the people countering any desires she had to make her existence – and nature – public knowledge.
We passed through the main doors of the UN headquarters without incident, I knew that the likelihood of anything happening was slim, but it was a possibility that I couldn’t shake and the nervousness that came with it started to abate. I was led to the bank of elevators – with only my two Spartans following as the others made their way inside from security detail on the street – and was shown to my office. It was a little after noon; I had a few hours to kill before I was expected to present myself before the UN assembly at two.
Over the next few days, I would be making a number of appearances before the grand council and would be privately meeting individual world leaders – at least the ones who wanted to meet me – between sessions. I wouldn’t know who I would be meeting or what would be discussed until they came through my office door, I didn’t even know how many of them there would be. Even though I had a vague understanding of how the process worked, I had no idea whatsoever of the intricacies; from this point on, I was entirely along for the ride. Hopefully that ride would lead us to our intended destination, otherwise… well, we’d have to cross that bridge if we came to it.
An hour later I found myself on the mezzanine overlooking the grand assembly hall. Considering my first appearance before this auditorium was due to begin soon, it was surprisingly quiet, with only a few people working between the rows of desks; distributing paperwork and filling water jars. Compared to the maelstrom of noise and activity in the hallways outside, and the spectacle that would fill this hall in less than an hour, the view from the mezzanine was almost tranquil.
The Rise of the Speaker Page 37
