Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I

by R A Peters

  The moderator was totally unprepared for this onslaught of reckless logic. He expected the old man to babble on about gold or the banking system or something. Thankfully, the producer in his control booth was always ready. He cut the uncomfortably accurate “crazy” man’s mike and switched the camera to the conservative, but feisty ex-vice president. The audience went back to cheering or booing while the experts grew even more provocative.

  The show was saved.

  Washington, DC

  2 January

  Jessica kept her smile and pretended not to understand the congressman’s not-so-subtle sexual innuendo. This was her fourth interview with a House member in the last week. She was getting used to the gentle harassment by now. Her curves and not being part of the usual Washington reporter crowd greased the wheels of exclusive access. The downside was looks and novelty attracted these Type A personalities like buzzards to road kill.

  “That’s nice, sir, but let’s go back a bit. It’s just that many people are shocked to see the House select Congressman Scott’s running mate for president. Pierce is a Libertarian, after all. This would be the first third-party president since the 1850’s. During the campaign you yourself spoke, shall we say… critically about him. You accused his deceased predecessor of selling out the party. I think my readers are confused. Why the sudden change of heart, sir?”

  The young man’s well-rehearsed lines still came off naturally. He was good, she had to give him that much. He tore his eyes from her legs and poured on the dimples. “In times of crisis, our leaders must put aside partisanship bickering and do what’s right for the country. We’ve reached a grand compromise that looks after the interests of both parties and best serves the American people. If only Senator Dimone would accept that and respect the will of the people. His continued legal challenges are an affront to democracy and are dangerous attempts to usurp the lawful transfer of presidential power.”

  Jessica let him drone on about the other candidate for a few minutes. You couldn’t interrupt an interviewee of this caliber. She had to admit, the whole thing was a masterful display of public oratory. He stayed 100% on message, never deviating from the talking points and buzzwords his media people vetted in focus groups, yet he still twisted a display of “bipartisanship” into a diatribe about the opposition. Impressive, even if it gave no real information.

  “Yes sir, all of your colleagues have given me the same reasons. Verbatim. I was hoping you might be able to speak more… frankly. With all due respect, this is your first term. You’ve been in office barely two weeks. You don’t have the, ah, political entanglements of some veteran members. Far from losing any political capital, you stand to gain the respect of the nation if you could shed some light on the behind-the-scenes negotiations that went on.”

  The politician’s handlers tried their best to kill her with their eyes. One flapper came over and whispered something in the frowning congressman’s ear. Her interview style might be effective with executives in the business world, but it was an incredible breach of political protocol in DC. A Washington reporter’s job was either to push an agenda or to help push the interviewee’s agenda. Relentlessly pursuing facts was far more shocking than spouting conspiracy theories. As great a social faux pas as showing up to the interview naked.

  Jessica wasn’t stupid. It was clear she’d crossed some invisible line. She changed course to what was surely a safe subject. “Let’s come back to that. How do you respond, sir, to the Supreme Court’s ruling that the House’s candidate of choice is ineligible for the presidency?”

  Back on familiar and prepped-for ground, he wasn’t so shy. “First, Mr. Pierce is not a ‘candidate.’ He is now the legally chosen president-elect of the United States and will be sworn in later this month. The House of Representatives is the only government body empowered to select the president in the event of a hung Electoral College. The 12th Amendment to the Constitution is clear-cut and not open to interpretation.”

  “But Congressman, isn’t it the job of the Supreme Court to interpret the Constitution? They didn’t simply decide the House’s chosen successor is ineligible. The Court ruled that the Republican National Convention failed to nominate Pierce properly in those hasty hours between Scott’s death and Election Day. They have firmly and definitively stated that, due to this technicality, Senator Dimone is the rightful winner of the election.”

  She pushed her luck and went on as the congressman opened his mouth.

  “According to the highest court in the land, this isn’t a constitutional question at all. As such, Congress has no say in the matter. If you look at the opinion polls, nearly 30% of the population sides with the Supreme Court. A further 40% agree with the current president’s call for new elections and only 30% think Congress should choose the next president.”

  The righteous indignation in his voice seemed genuine. His deviation from the carefully defined talking points was further proof. The congressman shifted his wry bulk in the “statesman” padded leather chair. Not to try to dissemble, but to appear calmer than he felt.

  “This isn’t about poll numbers. I know it might sound trite to you, but I came here to clean up Washington. Whatever supposed corruptions some people accuse us of, that’s small change compared to what the Court is trying to pull off. A tiny cabal of nine old, unelected judges is blatantly defying the will of the people and their elected representatives. They are mounting a historic and direct challenge to democracy in this country.”

  Jessica wasn’t so easily swayed. “Some would argue it was the historic levels of corruption among our elected representatives that forced the Court to act.”

  One of the staffers couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Who? The same people that published a three-page conspiracy nutjob piece about Dimone ordering the assassination of his rival? You ran that crap on the cover of the largest paper in the country! Even when the FBI finished their investigation, where was the retraction? Was that headline news? No, you buried it on page 30 something between lingerie ads! Where was your vaunted investigative journalism there?”

  Jessica blushed deeply, more from anger than shame. For a change of pace, it was the congressman that spoke up and defended her. “Cut the camera off. Look, I understand. Whether in business or politics, reality is complicated. We’re forced to compromise our principles sometimes. No one here is a saint. Politicians need to do some unsavory things to stay in office so they can make a real difference later. Don’t smile; we do more good than bad.”

  He patted her knee this time, instead of her upper thigh like usual. Jessica raised an eyebrow at the strange sympathy in his eyes.

  “And you news people need to do the same, if you’re going to stay in business long enough to expose real corruption. It’s a screwed up world we live in. Sure, the game’s crooked, but it’s the only game in town.” He looked about as close to a normal human being as a politician could.

  “Here, and it should go without saying that this is way off the record. If this gets into print, your entire paper will never have a chance to report inside the Beltway again.”

  He leaned close and whispered, but kept his hands to himself. That shocked Jessica as much as if he’d groped her. “Honestly, I don’t want to see Pierce become President of the United States any more than the Supreme Court does. The man is an old-school political operator embodying everything that’s wrong with our governing system. Sadly, the cold reality of the current political situation is that we have no choice. The only way to break the gridlock in Washington is to bring in a strongman. Someone that can bring both parties together and force them to cooperate.” He stretched back into his chair and puffed out his cheeks. “Even if the only reason is because he knows where all the bodies are buried.”

  The congressman forced out a smile, his eyes pleading with Jessica for understanding.

  “Look on the bright side. By caving in, we’ve already won the key legislative points on our agenda. The leadership of each party hammered out the details
of who gets what as part of the ‘Grand Bargain.’ Both liberals and conservatives just hit the political jackpot. If we had gone with Dimone, we would have seen another four years of hopeless legislative stagnation. The political ill will would be unrepairable.”

  A staffer tried to shut him up and Jessica pumped him for more questions, but he was in the zone. Some of that idealism and energy from the campaign trail seeped back into his voice.

  “It may be the stereotypical ‘smoke-filled backroom deal,’ but that’s the only way to make progress nowadays. I don’t mean just more convenient, but the only way. Come on, you’re in the news business. You know the effect those cameras have on people: instant radicalization.”

  Jessica chewed on her pen. “So this is just business as usual?”

  “Not at all. We’re on the verge of a renaissance in American politics. You’ve seen how things have been. If the Japs had attacked Pearl Harbor this last year, we never would have declared war. We’d still be debating and accusing each other of this and that while the Japanese occupied California. Our legislative system is a joke these days, but we finally figured out how to break the logjam. How to usher in a new golden age, and this black-robed mafia wants to throw away all that progress.”

  He sprang out of his chair, shaking his fist harder than his head. “That cannot be allowed. I tell you all this because I want you to understand what’s really at stake when you’re spinning your coverage. Congress and the American people have little to lose and everything to gain. No matter how things turn out, the presidential succession won’t be decided in the courts this time. It’s with us or in the streets, and wouldn’t you prefer an orderly, even if distasteful election, to mob rule?”

  If her networked had aired the entire interview her cameraman secretly obtained with his hidden digital recorder, people would have been relieved at his honesty. Since Jessica’s chief editor decided to run with a few cherry-picked blurbs, the context was thoroughly lost. Of course, that didn’t matter as much as the spike in sales generated by the headline: “Congress has nothing to lose and everything to gain” by defying the Supreme Court.

  Inauguration Day

  20 January: 1000

  Pierce’s swearing-in ceremony on the Capitol building steps was probably the worst in history. Downright embarrassing, really. More a Saturday Night Live parody than a display of political power. Naturally, no one from the Supreme Court attended. Even the lame duck sitting president didn’t bother showing up.

  The president’s term in office ended at noon, but he didn’t seem ready to go anywhere. He had no legal support, either in the House or with the courts. Not a leg to stand on. Only his party’s slim majority in the Senate kept impeachment at bay, but those weekly votes to start the impeachment process gathered a few defecting senators every time. By this point, it would take just a couple of his supporters changing their minds to lose the majority, and his job.

  The only thing keeping those senators on his side was public opinion. The president had always been relatively popular and, now playing the “wise old statesman” role, his public support skyrocketed. While it wasn’t terribly disturbing to the assembled congressional representatives, the president’s absence spoke volumes to those watching from home.

  There were also no military bands or other traditional trappings of power. The Armed Forces, upholding an old tradition in America, were careful to stay apolitical and give no appearance of supporting any individual politician. Not a single uniform could be seen within a mile.

  The security staff’s decision to limit the audience to a tiny, prescreened group of mostly second-tier VIP’s made things even worse. The Capitol Lawn wasn’t even a quarter full. The media kept panning over the small crowd and made as much a fuss over the embarrassing turnout as how not a single representative from any foreign embassy showed up. The winter wind lashed icy rain against those that did attend. Their cringing glumness made for great TV.

  The cherry on top of this crap sundae was having the actual swearing in done by some retired Chief Justice. The idea that seemed so full of rich symbolism when planned in the office came across weak and pathetic in practice. The hunched over, 80-year-old in an ill-fitting suit was missing that indefinable something lending authority to a robed Supreme Court Justice.

  Congress gamely carried through with the ceremony anyway. Most commentators, comedians and those bothering to watch it live had a blast with the show. Others took in the pathetic ceremony of weakness and counted up the opportunities.

  Pierce’s handlers wearily tallied the opinion poll results in real time. Their career prospects sinking as fast as the numbers. Finally convinced, they made some calls to their counterparts at the White House and in Senator Dimone’s campaign office. They’d pushed brinksmanship as far as possible and probably further than practical. Time to make a deal. While they still had some marginal public support left.

  In the Midnight hour

  Washington, DC

  20 January: 2330

  Both quasi-presidents, Pierce and Dimone, huddled around a giant conference table in the White House. The current tenant of that famous museum refereed their conference. Tieless and sleeves rolled up, they sure looked busy. Around them orbited twenty assistants, top lobbyists and no-title “advisors” doing the heavy lifting. Only after the staffers reluctantly shook hands with each other would they whisper the details into whichever Big Man’s ear they served. Seconds later that politician would formally propose the new terms, which were always met with unanimous agreement.

  While the leaders of the three sides put the finishing touches on their long anticipated succession deal, an aide wheeled in a large television. No matter how hard the president tried, he couldn’t escape that damn idiot box. He glared at his excited chief of staff.

  “You better be right that this guy is worth the interruption. I can’t possibly imagine how the rantings of Florida’s nutty governor can be more important than this meeting.”

  His senior staffer shook his head. “Take a look, sir. It was a surprise announcement. We’ve already missed the first few minutes of it, but you won’t believe what he’s going on about. As far as we can tell, he’s dead serious! I don’t think Governor Rhett’s acting this time.” He flicked the television on and caught the chunky demagogue in mid-speech.

  Florida’s Governor Rhett sported a bright red power tie and a comically oversized American flag lapel pin. He came close to pulling off the FDR fireside chat effect in his replica Oval Office. The symbolism was lost when he opened his mouth though.

  “Now, ya’ll know I’ve never been a fan of the Washington regime. I don’t reckon I’m alone in that respect, but today, we’re far beyond simple disagreement over policy. For the millionth time, our supposed leaders, of both parties, have shown how utterly inept they are.

  “Through their petty, childish bickering, they’ve shut the government down yet again. Every year the same games. They’ve devastated our economy, put millions out of work and made us the laughing stock of the free world. This madness ends today! It’s time to get this country back to work. Time to climb back in the saddle!

  “Now, who’s going to get us there? Washington has a credibility gap so wide you could drive a truck full of lobbyists through it. In this leadership vacuum, it’s time someone stands up and leads by example. I’m afraid that’s the responsibility the great State of Florida has to assume. Not for the first time, and probably not the last time.”

  Everyone laughed except for Senator Dimone. He had carried Florida by a wide margin in the election, for what little good that did him. Pierce yawned and reached for another cup of coffee. “Is this shit for real? Are we being put on by some YouTube pranksters?”

  The president even grinned. “It’s legitimate, all right. I don’t know why you’re surprised. This crazy governor is in your party. Now you see the nonsense I’ve had to put up with for eight years!”

  “Those rednecks down there don’t have parties; they just want to have
fun. They’ll swim against any popular political current for the enjoyment of being a pain in the ass.”

  “There comes a point where you can’t trust them any longer. When the regime routinely and unapologetically violates the Social Contract. All this talk about 12th or 20th Amendment issues are so much smoke and mirrors. The typical legalese you expect from Washington fat cats trying to hide their crimes. Ok, I’ll play along. They want a constitutional precedent? Well, I’ll give ‘em one. Right between the eyes! What about going back to the original Bill of Rights?

  “Let’s remind those self-obsessed lawyers that: ‘The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.’

  “That’s clear as day. When the central government can’t get their act together, it’s up to the states to protect their own interests. The people have to step up and show these Washington elites how to do their job. That’s why, in accordance with the official election results of Florida, We the People have chosen Senator Dimone as our next president!” The camera cut to the flag-waving crowd surrounding Florida’s statehouse.

  It took a minute for the applause outside to die down. How he attracted such a huge audience at nearly midnight no one could understand. The governor’s fame for incendiary provocations always ensured a ready crowd whenever he felt like doing some grandstanding. Which was no small advantage for a politico. Most other politicians around the country gawked on in envy.