2030

by Albert Brooks

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The story broke around the world. So many of the ship’s residents had recorded every moment that Max Leonard’s demands would eventually be seen by billions. It was why the Joint Chiefs of Staff had been opposed to the President having this conversation in the first place. Even though the lives of thousands were saved, everyone would now get to hear Max Leonard. And that couldn’t be good.

  Will this create a revolution? Now Bernstein was questioning himself. Had I known what Leonard was going to say, would I have talked to him? What did I think he was going to say? Could the SEALs have stopped it without me intervening? What if they really had had explosives? The President put his head in his hands and sat there. He had a blinding headache. He called Susanna. “What did I do?” he asked her. “The whole world is hearing this guy. Did I make a mistake?”

  She came down the hall to the Oval Office, and walked in and stood by his desk. “You were a hero. You saved the lives of almost everyone on that ship. There is no telling what they would have done had you not chosen to speak with him. You are a hero.”

  The President stood up and kissed her. “I want you to stay with me.”

  “I’m here.”

  “I mean forever. I want you in my life. I can’t do this without you.” She didn’t answer. He looked so worn out. This was not the time for that discussion. “I’m sorry to be so weak,” he said.

  “You’re not weak. You just went through a crisis that most presidents never face and I think you did it brilliantly. I will stay late tonight if you need me, but now, if you’re all right, I have to get back. I left people sitting in my office. Is that okay?”

  The President nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something. I just needed to talk.”

  “Stop it. I’m here for you. I support you.”

  As Susanna left the room, she knew that something was coming to a head in their personal lives, but she didn’t know what. What she did know was that the President needed to remain strong and she wanted to remain in the White House.

  * * *

  The news was filled with the hijacking and the rescue for days. It was all anyone talked about. There were commentators who thought the President had been wrong in talking to a terrorist, there were people who thought he handled it well, and there were others who agreed with what Max Leonard said, but couched their words carefully so they wouldn’t sound like they approved of his actions.

  Robert Golden and Paul Prescott had their hands full. Thousands of AARP members were panicked, flooding their offices with communications, wanting assurances that the government would put a stop to this violence once and for all, saying that the idea of a voting age limit was ridiculous and that even the talk of it had to stop.

  There were some editorials that agreed with Max Leonard and said the idea of an age limit should be considered, or that maybe the voting age should be lowered to fifteen, a gesture that would even out the electorate. But that was going to go nowhere. The power of the older generation was too great. And just to make sure, Paul Prescott went into action.

  Paul went to Congress and lobbied himself. Stopping by the offices of the influential senators and congressmen, he made it clear that anyone who would even entertain the idea of putting a limit on voting might as well clean out their desks now. Not only would it never get passed, but simply bringing it up would assure that person a one-way ticket back to his or her district. And no one argued with him. They knew he was right. Still, Paul wanted more than just assurance. He wanted speeches on the floor of the House and Senate about how the oldest Americans were national treasures. About how with age comes respect and how if older people could not be assured a good life, then life itself would lose meaning.

  Paul found his greatest support in Stanley Markum. Senator Markum, who was consistently elected by older Americans, not only found what Max Leonard said reprehensible, he believed that giving Leonard center stage was criminal and blamed it squarely on the President.

  Markum gave a speech on the Senate floor that was one of his best. He used phrases like “God wants man to live as long as he can, that is why he gave us the knowledge to do so,” and, “What should we do next? Get rid of all the species that live a long and healthy life? Maybe we should kill all the turtles and chop down the redwoods.” It was meaningless, but it sounded great and it stuck. It was forwarded all over cyberspace. So much so that Shen Li called his father-in-law to congratulate him on such a wonderful sound bite.

  “That was just great, Dad,” as Li now called Markum. “I love the turtle line.”

  “Did it get good play out there?”

  “Yes. Everywhere. And what I agree with the most is that Bernstein should have never spoken to that guy. That made us seem weak.”

  It was funny, after Shen married Laura and after he made such an impact in California, he started to use “we” and “us” whenever he talked about America. He had adopted the country completely, even though China still considered him one of its greatest citizens.

  As time went on Li spoke less and less Chinese, unless he was talking to others from China who were rebuilding the new city. Initially, he would mix the two languages, using phrases in Chinese when he could think of nothing comparable in English, but Laura gently guided him toward an English-only mind-set. She would say, “They love you, but if you want them to think of you as their own, speak English.” And of course, as with everything else, she was right.

  * * *

  Kathy Bernard stayed home for a full week. She was due time off and had been planning to take it in a few months, but she asked Clyde Folsom if she could have it now instead. He wanted no press at his place of business and was more than happy to oblige. If she were not as good a saleswoman as she was, he would have let her go. But Kathy was his best and, personally, Clyde liked her more than his own children. He believed her when she said she had no involvement. Unfortunately, the FBI was not as convinced.

  On a Tuesday morning, when Kathy was making herself some cereal and fruit, there was a knock at the door. She looked at the monitor and saw three men standing outside. One was a uniformed policeman; the other two were plainclothes. She pressed the button and asked what they wanted. They said she needed to open the door. She said she was not dressed and asked if they could come back later. They told her they had a warrant for her arrest and that if she didn’t open the door they would come in anyway.

  Kathy opened the door. One of the plainclothes cops told her to get dressed while they waited, that they were going to drive to Chicago to the FBI offices there. Kathy was confused and scared.

  “Chicago? That’s three hours, when will we get back?”

  “I would pack for a few days, miss.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following. Why a few days? Where are we going?”

  “Miss Bernard, you’re under arrest at this time as an accessory in the hijacking of The Sunset.” And then the uniformed cop played her a recording of her “rights” on his watch. She was completely in shock.

  “I’m innocent! I told you I had nothing to do with this!”

  One of the men smiled and said, “Ma’am, I don’t make the decisions, I just carry out what I’m told. Please pack a small bag so we can get on the road. I’m sorry.”

  Kathy went into the bedroom and packed her suitcase. She knew that whatever was going to happen now would most likely be more expensive than even her father’s illness. And she didn’t have the funds.

  * * *

  The aftermath of the hijacking was not going as well for Matthew Bernstein as he had hoped. In hindsight, people were upset that so many had to die, even though six of them were the perpetrators. This also became the straw that broke the camel’s back in regard to the violence that older Americans had been subjected to over the last several years. Congress, fearing the power of the olds, got tough, enacting new laws that would come down hard on attacks on the elderly. Stanley Markum wanted automatic life sentences for anyone attacking seniors. Tha
t didn’t quite fly, but the vote was close.

  The President had to play both sides of the fence. He had to make older people feel safe, but he also needed to convince younger Americans that what Max Leonard said was wrong, that America loved them and that their lives were going to be better than those of their parents. It was tough, especially since it was a lie. But Bernstein did the best he could.

  He spoke to colleges and gave them his “This country is yours, too” speech, and he spoke to seniors and gave them his “The rights of Americans are good until they die” speech. Neither speech elicited the reactions he was hoping for. It felt as if he was just treading water. A little bit for everyone and not enough for anybody. And then Betsy left.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Betsy Bernstein woke up one rainy morning in February 2031, and knew from the moment she opened her eyes that she was finished. The first person she called was John Van Dyke. They met for coffee and she told him that she was leaving the White House for good and would announce the official separation later that day. Van Dyke was not really surprised, nor did he even care that much. As Susanna Colbert became closer and closer to the President, Van Dyke had felt his job was threatened, culminating in the President’s decision to talk directly with Max Leonard. Van Dyke had been strongly against that, as were the generals, and he was convinced that Susanna was the one who made it happen.

  Van Dyke knew the President’s feelings toward Susanna and was willing to accept them, until they got in his way. So as he listened to the First Lady telling him that this was it, he almost wanted to say, “I’m with you. I hate her, too.” But he didn’t. He told Betsy that he was sorry it had come to this, but he understood how frustrated she was. And he asked her why she told him first. She didn’t really have an answer. “Maybe just to hear how it sounded,” she said.

  She waited until her husband had an hour free and walked into the Oval Office. She had not been there for weeks, so when Bernstein saw her standing at the door he knew the rest of his day would most likely be terrible. “Hi. What is it?”

  “You know what it is, don’t you?”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “I’m leaving tonight. I’m not coming back. We’ll be officially separated and we’ll start divorce proceedings. I have no plans to make it a problem or drag it out and I’m assuming you feel the same way.”

  He felt a lump in his chest. It was one thing to no longer communicate, one thing to be in love with another woman, but when that moment came that rips your life apart, it hurts and it’s scary and you’re the president. And this moment had never happened before. It was not a historical first that Bernstein had thought about when he took office. Being the first Jew, or half Jew, whatever they would call him; that was enough. Now he was the first divorced half-Jew president who sold America’s biggest city to China. Wow. How would history judge this? “Betsy, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t know if we can work it out, but maybe you should stay and we should try.”

  She laughed out loud. “My darling, I’m not a labor union or a country demanding more aid; there is nothing to work out. You’re in love with someone else and I’m not in love with you. That’s a bad combination. Let’s cut our losses and try to salvage some happiness. Don’t you think?”

  “But no First Lady has ever left the job. That might come across as a slight to America.”

  Now Betsy got angry. “Fuck America. I didn’t marry America. America didn’t cheat on me and I’m not leaving America. I’m leaving you! You can have your bullshit speech people say it anyway you want. I’ve already had mine write something and if you want to use it, it’s already approved.”

  And with that, feeling herself about to lose it, she threw the short speech she had prepared on his desk and left his office for what would be the last time. Bernstein looked down and read her statement.

  After twenty-two years of marriage, Matthew and Betsy Bernstein have decided to go their separate ways. They both love and respect each other, but sometimes in life two people, no matter how close they were, drift apart and need to start fresh in a new direction. Betsy Bernstein has loved her time as First Lady and will continue to love and support this wonderful country, a country that she has had the privilege to serve. But now the time has come for her and her husband to each seek a new path in their personal lives. Please respect their privacy in this matter.

  The President looked at the last line and ran his hand through his hair. Right, everyone’s going to respect our privacy.

  Susanna Colbert was giving a speech at the Wharton School of Business when one of her aides told her the President wanted to speak to her. She was told it was urgent and for a moment she had no idea what to expect. She was, after all, the secretary of the Treasury, and in a normal relationship with the White House, the word “urgent” would mean some kind of financial problem, possibly one that was very serious. But this relationship was anything but normal, so she contacted the President on a secure link. As soon as she saw him she knew what “urgent” meant. He looked terrible. He had either been crying or sweating or doing something that made his face look moist and his hair messed up, and he had circles under his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked him. “Are you sick?”

  “She left.” Susanna didn’t need to ask who. “She’s gone. It’s over. Can you come back here?”

  “Of course. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “I’m sorry to sound like a wounded child. I haven’t told anyone but you. She gave me a statement and I wanted your opinion.”

  “I’ll look at it as soon as I get back. Is that okay?”

  “Yes.” And then the President asked her, “How did your speech go?”

  Goodness, there was something about him that Susanna really did love. Something allowed him to ask that question at a moment when it was the last thing he cared about. It was probably why he had been elected president. He knew how to make people feel important—everyone, that is, except the woman he married. “It was fine,” she said. “They love you here.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  When she arrived in Chicago, Kathy Bernard was booked and formally accused of aiding and abetting a terrorist activity. She was put into a holding cell. There was no bail allowed, and even if there were, the amount would have been astronomical. Any arrest with the word “terrorist” in the accusation—either of being one, helping one, or knowing one—carried such a stigma that judges were hesitant to grant any bail at all, and if they did, they set the amount beyond the ability to pay.

  Kathy was taken to a communication room, where she realized that she had no one to contact. No one except Clyde Folsom. That fact alone made her so sad. Clyde’s face appeared on the screen. He was at home. “Hi, it’s Kathy.”

  “I see,” Clyde said. “Where are you? Are you in the office?” Kathy just started bawling. In one second she turned into a little girl.

  “I’m in Chicago. I’ve been arrested. They’re accusing me of helping Max and I had nothing to do with it.” Clyde was torn for a second. He thought about the reputation of his business, but he saw how scared she looked and he knew he had to help.

  “Is there bail set?”

  “No. No bail.”

  “No bail? What the hell is that about?”

  “I don’t know. No bail.”

  “Did you contact a lawyer?”

  “I don’t know any lawyers. I contacted you. I’m sorry.”

  “You need a lawyer, Kathy. Let me talk to someone and we’ll find you the best one.”

  “I can’t afford that.”

  “Don’t worry about that now. Let’s see if we can get you out on bail. I’ll do what I can, I promise.”

  “I’m so sorry to involve you. I didn’t know anyone else. I didn’t do anything, Mr. Folsom.” Kathy had not called him Mr. Folsom for months. He was always Clyde. But now she had been reduced to a child, and a child never calls an adult by their first name.

  “I’ll help you, Kathy. I’ll do everything I can.”
<
br />   “Thank you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  Clyde Folsom’s life had been going pretty well, or so he thought. Healthy into his mideighties, not a great relationship with his kids, but this new young woman who worked for him was bright and the best salesperson he’d had in decades; he actually had been planning to let her take over the business so he could finally retire, knowing that she could continue to generate income for him for many years. Now she was in prison. Damn it.

  * * *

  When Susanna got back to the White House she went directly to the Oval Office. When she walked in the President got up and put his arms around her. She didn’t resist. The funny thing was that even though he was president, and even though she was immensely fond of him, this was now officially a rebound relationship and she hated those. It was one thing when the First Lady was there and they were sneaking around, talking at all hours, but now she was the only woman in his life and she didn’t know exactly how to deal with that. After all, the world had not even found out yet that Betsy Bernstein was gone. So Susanna broke the hug and led the President to his chair. She sat opposite him and they talked. They talked for five hours straight. And they talked about everything.

  “I’ve been coming off so badly since the rescue of the hostages,” he said. “My actions probably saved thousands of people from being killed. And yet all they say is that I’m soft on these youth brigades or whatever the hell they’re calling them.”

  “So punch them back. Tell them they’re idiots. Stand up to them.”

  “That’s something Betsy did so great,” the President said. “She knew how to attack.” When Susanna heard that, it was all she could do to keep her anger in check. She spoke sharply.