Back then, people admired the citizen activist, were in favor of individuals getting involved with causes they believed in. But these days, that was looked upon with disfavor, considered an example of "special interest" politics, and the respect went to those who talked finances, not ideas.
Which was why The Store's candidates would probably win.
He couldn't understand why the prospect of having The Store control Juniper's government didn't scare people more. Sure, the corporation's big bankroll and the promises to cut taxes and fund programs with private rather than public funds sounded inviting on the surface, but even a casual examination of that revealed its flaws. Or at least it did to him. Because whoever controlled the money controlled the power. If services were financed with public funds, specific fees allocated for specific projects and decided upon by the people, the people were in charge. As they should be. But if The Store paid the bills, The Store got to call the shots.
That to him was truly frightening.
He was leery as well of this three-man council idea. The more diversity the better, he'd always felt. The more voices heard in a government -- any government -- the better the representation. But there'd been a town meeting at the high school last week, and by an overwhelming vote the attendees had decided to scale back the size of the council from five to three. At The Store's behest, the town charter had been amended for the first time in its history, and he did not see that as a good sign.
Ben stepped back onto the empty street and looked at the painted window of the electronics shop:
VOTE FOR A CHANGE!
ELECT ANDERSON, MCHENRY AND MALORY
TOWN COUNCIL
He smiled to himself. He'd come up with the slogan "Vote for a Change," amused by its double meaning, by its criticism of the town's apathy, and though Bill had not thought it wise to insult the voters they were trying to woo, Ben didn't think most of them would get it.
He still thought that.
Backing all the way to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, he continued to stare at the sign, trying to determine its efficacy. He walked from one end of the block to the other, glancing over his shoulder, pretending he was a driver in a car, then walked back across the street to the electronics shop.
He was pretty happy with the way the job had turned out. The paint on the window was bright, and against the dull drabness of the dying downtown, the message stood out forcefully.
The cardboard signs they'd nailed up all over town and on the highway also looked good, but Ben knew from experience that that wouldn't be enough.
The Store had the radio.
And the newspaper.
Even thinking about the newspaper ticked him off.
He walked inside the shop.
"How's it look?" Street asked.
Ben gave a thumbs-up sign. "Excellent, if I do say so myself."
"Think it'll help?"
"No."
Ben walked over to the register counter, picked up his cup of coffee from where he'd left it, and finished off the dregs. When he and Street and Ted Malory had decided to run as a ticket, The Store had countered, offering an alternate slate. He wondered now if it had been a mistake to run together. Maybe they should have campaigned separately, as individuals, not tied their fates so closely to each other.
"Do you think we have a chance?" Street asked.
Ben shook his head.
"Maybe it'll go two-one, or one-two. Maybe we'll at least get one guy on there."
"I don't think so."
"So The Store'll own the council."
"Again."
"It'll be even worse this time. They won't have to buy anyone off. They won't need a middle man to do their dirty work. They'll be in charge themselves and they'll be legitimately elected."
Ben nodded. "I know." He looked at the back side of the painted window.
"God help us all."
2
It was not going to be a victory party. They knew that going in. It was a defeat party, a commiseration session, a wake.
Still, the gym was more crowded than Bill had expected, and it kept alive a small spark of hope within him. Maybe more people than they'd thought had figured out what The Store was doing to Juniper. Maybe the citizens of the town were too smart to have been fooled by The Store's glitzy advertising and inflated promises.
He thought of the famous photo of Harry Truman holding up a newspaper with a banner headline reading: DEWEY WINS!
Sometimes the oddsmakers turned out to be wrong. Sometimes the underdog did triumph.
Sometimes.
He and Ginny walked into the gym holding hands, looking around. Whoever was in charge of the decorations definitely had a sense of humor. Black crepe paper hung from the bleachers and the blackboards, funereal wreaths of dead flowers were arranged in stands next to the appetizers and drink tables in the center court. There were quite a few people milling about: most of the downtown merchants and owners of the businesses that made up the chamber of commerce, displaced municipal workers, unemployed construction people. They were talkative, friendly, not particularly somber, but the overall mood seemed grim.
The other candidates were awaiting election returns and holding their party at The Store. No expense had been spared and the affair was being catered by The Store's in-house sushi and espresso bars, all-you-can-eat free food being offered to all supporters. The Store had closed at noon so that employees could set up the decorations and clear an area of the building for the celebration, and a live remote broadcast was planned for the radio station.
Ironically -- and irritatingly -- both Sam and Shannon were working the party. They hadn't volunteered, they'd been assigned, and Bill could not help thinking that that was intentional. The Store knew that, though he was not running for office himself, he was one of the architects of the opposition, and Lamb and his people no doubt wanted to rub his face in it.
He was still unable to understand why more people hadn't turned against The Store. It was obvious to even a casual observer that since The Store had arrived, downtown Juniper had become a virtual ghost town, unemployment had skyrocketed, and the jobs that were now available had sharply lower wages than their predecessors. The Store was sucking the town dry, yet far too many people either didn't notice or didn't care. Putting aside the mysterious occurrences that had accompanied its arrival, people should be rejecting The Store on a purely personal, selfish, economic level.
Yet they weren't.
And he could not figure out why.
Street wandered over. He had already been drinking heavily, and he gave Ginny a huge unwelcome hug and boozily clapped an arm around Bill's shoulder.
"Mayday! Mayday! We're going down!"
"You don't seem too broken up about it," Bill said.
Street shrugged. "At some point, all you can do is laugh."
Ben, Ted, and Ted's wife, Charlinda, made their way through the throng toward them. They talked for a few moments, then Ginny and Charlinda moved off toward the hors d'oeuvres and the men stood alone.
"How badly do you think we're going to lose?" Bill asked.
"We'll get our asses kicked!" Street yelled.
Bill ignored him, turned toward Ted. "What's your feeling? You know a lot of people in this town. You're not a pariah like Ben or a clown like Street --"
"I resent that!" Street said.
Bill grinned. "What's your bead on the situation?"
"I don't know," Ted admitted. "All I hear is doom and gloom from you guys, but everyone I've talked to seems pretty supportive. There's a lot of resentment toward The Store out there. People might be afraid to admit it, but most of them don't like The Store. I may be crazy, but -- knock on wood -- I think we have a fighting chance."
_Afraid to admit it_.
Bill licked his lips. "Why would they be _afraid_ to admit it?"
Ted shifted uncomfortably. "You know."
That was the problem. He did know. They all knew. And they faced each other, the knowledge in
their eyes, until Street suggested that they all go over to the drink table and get something to wet their whistles.
The polls closed at eight, and counting began almost immediately. A team of election workers was at town hall, going through the ballots, and while tabulating results in big cities might take all night, the small number of voters in Juniper virtually assured that a count and recount would be concluded before ten.
The radio station had a live remote at town hall as well as at The Store party, and Street had hooked up a receiver to the gym's PA system so they could all hear the broadcast.
"How come there's no remote feed here?" Ben asked dryly, standing at the head of the drink table. "Aren't they interested in our reaction?"
Everyone laughed.
Bill listened only intermittently to the broadcast throughout the evening, but when it became clear that the counting was almost completed and that the winners would be announced shortly, he and Ginny gravitated with everyone else toward Street's receiver, which was sitting on an unadorned table next to the locker room entrance. There was no sound coming out of the receiver -- it was issuing from speakers hidden high in the rafters of the gym -- but symbolically this was the origin of the radio broadcast, and more and more people gathered around the black metal box and stared at the blue digital call numbers as announcement time approached.
Ben was describing for the hundredth time that evening, how different the outcome of this election would be if he was still editor of the paper, when people in the crowd began holding up their hands for silence, putting their fingers to their lips.
"Shhhh!"
"Shhhh!"
"Shhhh!"
Everyone leaned closer to the receiver, as though that would enable them to hear the results more clearly. Street turned up the volume. Bill winced as Ginny's hand tightened, viselike, on his.
"It's official," the radio announcer said. His voice echoed through the cavernous gym. "All of the ballots have been counted, and Mr. Lamb, personnel manager of The Store, is the top vote-getter and has been elected Juniper's new mayor. Mr. Walker, The Store's Customer Service manager, and Mr. Keyes, Store representative, have also been elected to the town council."
"Don't these assholes have first names?" Ben growled.
"Ben Anderson, Ted Malory, and Street McHenry have been soundly defeated," the announcer continued. "Final tally: Lamb, one thousand three hundred votes;
Walker, one thousand one hundred and seventy-two votes; Keys, one thousand and sixty votes; Malory, nine hundred and ninety-nine votes; McHenry, nine hundred and eighty-seven votes: Anderson, eight hundred and fifty votes."
"Low turnout." Ginny nodded. "Interesting."
" 'Soundly defeated?' " Ted said. "I thought we did pretty well."
"Let's hear it for our side!" someone yelled. "Hip hip hooray!"
The rest of the crowd joined in: "Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!"
On the radio, the feed switched instantly to the victory party at The Store. Even muffled by the gym's speaker system, the size and enthusiasm of The Store crowd was impressive. The cheers coming over the radio dwarfed the noise from their little chant and made their supporters sound tired and pitiful.
Sam's there, Bill thought. And Shannon.
People began wandering away, clapping sympathetic hands on the losers' backs, offering compassion and halfhearted promises to keep up the fight.
Several supporters headed for the alcohol, but most were already making for the exit, ready to head home.
Bill and Ginny stood next to Ted and Charlinda, Ben and Street, as Mr.
Lamb gave his acceptance speech over the radio. He began with an embarrassingly insincere acknowledgment of the commitment and good intentions of his well meaning but misguided opponents, then heaped equally insincere praise on the gathered supporters.
Huge, inappropriate cheers greeted his every utterance.
"I think I'm gonna barf," Street said.
"It is sickening," Bill agreed.
"No. I think I'm gonna barf." Street made a mad dash for the boys' bathroom.
Mr. Lamb was already talking about some of his plans for Juniper after taking office.
"There have been complaints recently about the freshness of The Store's produce," the new mayor said. He chuckled. "I've heard rumors of it."
The crowd laughed.
"Our first order of business will be to pass a resolution requiring all local farmers and ranchers to tithe twenty percent of their produce and livestock to The Store. This will ensure the continued quality and freshness of The Store's product."
"I wish he would've said this shit before he got elected," Ted said. "We might've won."
"AH town employees will now be required to wear a uniform to work. The Store has contracted with the manufacturer of _its_ uniforms to provide special municipal employee attire."
Big cheers.
"There will also be an increase in Juniper's sales tax."
Groans.
"I know, I know," Mr. Lamb said cheerfully. "We promised a tax cut, and I wish we could deliver on that promise, but this sales tax is needed to adjust an existing inequity in the system. As it stands now, The Store is providing funding for most of Juniper's day-to-day operation as well as for upcoming projects. The Store is happy to do this. As a corporation, we feel it is our obligation to support the communities that support us, and it's good for local economies if we put money that we earn back into the towns that we take it from.
However, it is unfair to expect The Store to shoulder the complete financial burden while other stores and businesses get off scot-free. Right now, the other businesses in Juniper are getting a free ride. We're paying their share, and we're getting punished for it. Therefore, the sales tax will be raised so that all local businesses can begin to contribute equally to the greatness of our fair town."
There was scattered applause, a few halfhearted cheers.
"The good news," Mr. Lamb said, "is that this increase will not apply to The Store. Since The Store is already shouldering most of the burden, it would be like taxing us twice if we participated in this revenue enhancement. Which is a fancy way of saying that other businesses may raise their prices, but The Store will continue to provide the highest quality products at the lowest possible prices!"
Cheers, clapping, ecstatic shouting.
Ben turned down the receiver's volume. "Propagandistic bullshit." He shook his head, sighed. "At least Ted almost made it."
Bill smiled. "And you have the honor of coming in last."
He shrugged. "Been there, done that. Nothing new."
"So what now?"
"What now? We stand idly by while more local businesses go belly-up and The Store takes over the entire goddamn town."
They were all silent.
Street came trudging up. "Did I miss anything important?"
"Only the final death knell of democracy and the legitimization of unchecked corporate power in Juniper."
Bill tried to smile. "You old hippie, you."
Ben met his gaze. "To quote the Jefferson Airplane, 'It's a new dawn.' "
TWENTY-FOUR
1
There were more vagrants on the streets of Juniper than there used to be.
There'd always been a certain number of ragged, wildly bearded men in town old prospectors come down from the mountains, bear hunters in for supplies but there seemed to be more of them recently, and he wasn't sure that these were people who were purposely making a lifestyle choice.
Bill drove slowly down Granite toward the highway, saw an old man sleeping on a filthy blanket beneath a manzanita bush, saw a young man sitting in the doorway of an empty storefront.
Juniper was a small town, but he still didn't know everyone in it, and since there'd been a lot of business closing, going bankrupt in the wake of The Store's arrival, it was conceivable that these were merely jobless people who were hanging around town in order to look for work.
Conceivable -- but not likely.
; Most of them looked dirty and purposeless, and he suspected that they had no place to go.
Juniper had a homeless problem.
It was a weird thought. Homelessness was usually a big-city disease. Small towns had transients passing through, but they were essentially closed societies, where any change or deviation from the norm was noticed instantly.
They were not anonymous enough to provide a place for America's marginalized.
There were no streets for street people to live on.
Yet here they were.
Bill reached the highway, stopped for a moment -- though there was no light or stop sign at the intersection -- then turned right toward The Store.
His muscles tensed, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He hadn't gone to The Store since the election, and even driving this small section of the highway made him feel as though he was entering an enemy camp during wartime.
Intellectually, he knew that it was merely a discount retailer, the place where his daughters and half the town worked, and that the wide, modern aisles would be filled with ordinary men, women, and children doing their ordinary everyday shopping. But he had so demonized The Store in his mind that, emotionally, he felt like he was preparing to enter hell.
It couldn't be helped, though.
He needed printer ribbon.
He'd finished the manual.
The actual deadline was day after tomorrow, and he would be transmitting his work via modem to Automated Interface, but he liked to print out a hard copy of his manuals first and then proof them. He seemed to do a better job of copyediting if he worked off printed pages instead of a screen.
He pulled into the parking lot and was lucky enough to find a space near The Store's entrance. He'd known this was coming, and he should've bought ribbons last week when they'd driven down to Phoenix, but he hadn't thought about it and now he was stuck. The Store was the only place in town that sold printer ribbons.
Bill got out of the Jeep, locked the door. He felt a knot of dread in his stomach as he walked up the parking lot aisle toward the building. Neither Sam nor Shannon was working this morning, and for that he was glad. He stared at the windowless expanse of wall before him and could not help thinking that The Store saw him, that it knew he was coming -- and that it had something planned for him. He did not want his daughters to see that.
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