Atlas Drugged

by Stephen L. Goldstein

  “Thank you for that most uplifting—or should I say cash-register-ringing?—report, Enrique,” Manfreed adds, smiling like a Cheshire cat and rubbing his hands over each other like a witch concocting her brew. “Enrique left out—perhaps out of modesty—the specifics of the most important part of the Fitness Center’s success. They’ve already paid back the $500,000 loan from the Taggart Venture Fund, with interest of course, plus $4.5 million in royalties. That’s an astounding $5 million payback in less than a year.

  “And there’s more good news to report. John Galt is not dead, not by any means—and there are no signs that he will be anytime soon, so sorry to disappoint our enemies.” Pointing to a map of the Corporate States, Manfreed continues: “Texas to North Carolina, you’ll notice, is all in the darkest green. That’s because we’ve been able to put governors and legislatures in place who are completely aligned with us. In these states, privatization has taken over the roles of government by more than ninety percent. Power plants, highways and local roads, airports and seaports, schools, hospitals, and other assets and services are now in the hands of for-profit business. And they are making money hand over fist.

  “From New Mexico north to Montana and Washington and west to California, in lighter green, there are some trouble spots—mostly in Colorado, California and Oregon, where local areas have tried to reinstall looter government agencies and reimpose regulations on businesses. In lime green, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, and Michigan are showing signs of discontent. Some unions are trying to reorganize. From Ohio and Pennsylvania north to Maine, we have the greatest challenges. That’s why that whole region is in white, without a trace of green. Out of the fifty states, at least three-fifths are firmly or solidly in our plus column. But we cannot take anything for granted, of course.

  “Mother Nature has looked out for us this year. We never lose sight of the cardinal principle of Free-for-All economics, ‘Every disaster is a buying opportunity,’ or put another way, ‘Other people’s misery is our good fortune.’ ‘Mother’ has helped us beyond our wildest dreams. Wildfires in Arizona, floods in Sacramento, a bridge collapse in Tampa, Florida, and tornadoes throughout the midWest created new opportunities for turning public assets over to private interests. State and local governments have been starved of revenue for so long, they couldn’t rebuild or help individuals affected by disasters to do so. So Count de Horsch in Mississippi, whose private city, Horschville, will soon be completely sold out, and others are making millions and radically altering the landscape of the states forever. Traitorous pranksters can claim John Galt is dead all they want to. Profit-and-loss sheets tell a different story.

  “So, now we come to our recent unpleasantness. We take nothing for granted. But we also know we always get stronger when we’re challenged. Whoever was foolish enough to break into our sound system on Saturday—and we’ll soon know who it is—will pay dearly. We need to ask ourselves, ‘What would John Galt do?’ And we need to let everyone know that John Galt is more alive now than ever. We need to double-down and act like we’re Atlas drugged on steroids and more powerful than ever—because we are. Defeat is not an option. It never is—especially with us. Our enemies should know that by now. But they haven’t learned that lesson, which is why we’re in power and they’re not—and never will be.

  “As I mentioned, at one o’clock this afternoon, I will be on a conference call with the White House to discuss nationwide strategies to defeat the enemy. With the election just a few months away, President Cooper has personally told me he wants the opposition crushed. So, I will share with him the surefire two-pronged attack we’ve developed.” Pointing to a fifty-inch TV monitor at the front of the room, Manfreed says, “I believe all of you know the world-renown master of lexi-psychographics, Professor Clyde Doppelmann. He’s coming to us via a satellite feed. Professor, we’re delighted to have you with us. Please explain our media strategy to our most distinguished members of The Circle of Atlas.”

  “It will be my high honor to, Professor Manfreed.” Doppelmann is in his early fifties. His long, ski-slope nose and fluted nostrils lead to a prominent square jaw. His light-brown toupee curls up on his dark-brown sideburns, accentuating what it’s supposed to camouflage. He looks straight into the camera. “In my latest book, If the Pen is Mightier than the Sword, How Come Writers Aren’t King?, I explain that you’ve gotta have force and power to back up your words or you’re just full of hot air. And in my book, Schlock Doctrine: Feed People Garbage Long Enough and They’ll Think It’s Caviar, I explain that Americans are lazy and stupid. We can always get the public to believe what we want—as long as we understand the power of lying—and the moral imperative to do it. Lies are the purest example of how the principles of Free-for-All economics can be powerfully applied to every aspect of life. A lie is simply the truth massaged for the benefit of the person promoting it. The trick is to understand the power of lying and never to tell the truth. Once you’re committed to telling the truth, you’re boxed in by facts. As long as you lie, you’ve got leverage. People will believe lies faster than they’ll accept the truth. It’s easier to convince people that the sky is green than that it’s blue. Tell them up is down and that one and one makes three—and they’ll fall for it every time. But tell them that one and one makes two, and they’ll try to prove you wrong every time. I believe there are copies of both books for sale in the back of the room.

  “The Corporate States need a new tune that the people can hum—a winning new campaign.We need to rebrand ourselves. And based upon my research, our new motto should be ‘John Galt created the Internet.’”

  “What?” an unidentified voice in the back of the room blurts out.

  “Hear me out! It’s a perfect application of schlock doctrine. Your opposition is claiming that John Galt is dead. So, don’t fall into the trap of saying, ‘He’s alive.’ Studies consistently show that opposites reinforce each other. If you say ‘alive,’ your listeners will think ‘dead.’ You’ve got to come up with a credible lie to make people think John Galt is alive; otherwise, they won’t believe you.

  “I call the strategy ‘Detour Thinking’ in Schlock Doctrine. The more outrageous what you say is, the more readily it will be believed. Remember what I told you: People will believe lies more readily than truths. Don’t ever bother explaining anything to anyone. Repeat, repeat, repeat if you want to be believed. Of course, to the one-tenth of one percent of the population with a brain and willing to use it, you can make the case that John Galt started the Rational Restoration that provided the economic climate for the entrepreneurship that led to the World Wide Web. But don’t waste your breath on the masses. The issue will never come up. They are waiting to be duped, yearning to be duped, hungry to be duped. They’ll spread the word all over the Internet that John Galt created it. End of story for ‘John Galt is dead.’”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” Manfreed says.

  “But did John Galt really create the Internet?” the Kork brothers ask in unison. They always speak in unison in public.

  “Absolutely!” Doppelmann assures them.

  “A powerful fact, a powerful fact, most impressive, first we’ve heard of it,” they chant.

  “Clyde, let’s go full steam ahead—fliers, TV, Internet, op-eds,” Manfreed says, genuinely excited. “And I’m sure you’ll be hearing from the White House after I share the idea. Now, Zora, I believe you’re going to explain our ‘on-the-ground’ strategy.”

  “Gladly, Professor Manfreed,” she replies, moving to the front of the room. “In a word, our strategy is to infiltrate Coopervilles around the country and destroy them from within. We’re going to recruit physically fit trainees for Atlas Fitness Centers from them, take them into our confidence, and get information that can help us destroy the saboteurs. I mean we all know that the opposition has to be coming from those hell holes, don’t we? We’ll offer them food, shelter, and the possibility of a promising future. From what we hear, most of them are desperate. So, we can win th
em over easily.”

  “Thank you, Zora. I think our two-pronged strategy will crush those bastards once and for all. As Zora says, make no mistake about it: All of our opposition comes right from the hotbeds of socialism in Coopervilles. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for my conference call with the White House.”

  “Professor Manfreed, may I?” Count de Horsch says, without waiting for an answer as he moves to the front of the room. “My fellow Circle Members, once Coopervilles have been neutralized, I plan to move forward with my plans to develop Central Park into a mall and amusement park. It will be a cash-cow, without a doubt. I’ve been assured by the mayor that my generous bid will be accepted. One of the anchors in the mall will be the biggest Atlas Fitness Center in the world, with an indoor pool, tennis and racket ball courts, and a track. It will have its own hotel for overnight visitors. It’s also gonna have a miniature train running around the perimeter. Kids’ll love it. The architects should have completed drawings by Friday.”

  “Thank you, Count,” Manfreed interjects, mildly peeved at the interruption. “And now I really must prepare for my meeting. Thank you all for coming. You will be kept up-to-date on all developments.”

  MONDAY, JUNE 6, 12:45 P.M.: THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM. Top advisors to President Ham Cooper are waiting for the start of the 1 p.m. emergency meeting. Hilton Manfreed is present via a satellite feed from New Atlantis. The president has told the Corporate Council, the CSA’s real governing body, that he considers the interruptions on Saturday proclaiming John Galt dead a serious, potential threat to his reelection in November. Privately, he’s told everyone but Manfreed, of course, that he thinks “the old geezer” is “over the hill” and needs to be replaced as the head of New Atlantis.

  Cooper is the fifth former CEO to have become president of the Corporate States of America. He was a high-school freshman when Galt and company returned from the valley. But he has never forgotten the suffering he endured during the strike. His father’s oil rigs were taken over by the people Galt labeled looters, so his family lost its fortune—and his inheritance. He tells everyone the government raped them. To him, Galt was God—not a god, the one-and-only, who had delivered them from evil. When he graduated, he refused to go to college. “I know everything I need to know,” he told everyone. “And all I need to know is how to make money anyway I can.” His family reclaimed its holdings under the Asset Recovery Act Galt implemented. Cooper capitalized on the deregulation and privatization of energy resources by buying up oil, gas, and nuclear facilities in state after state. His business strategy was “Acquire and Fire.” He’d put two profitable companies together, fire half the workforce, raise rates, and make a killing—and there was no one to stop him after all government regulations had been done away with. By the time he was twenty-five, he controlled energy production in ten states and was a multibillionaire. He had never held public office when he ran for president, but he had all the money he needed to campaign. He won with sixty-three percent of the vote. His winning slogan was, “Less government is too much. No government is just about enough.”

  Never one for small talk, Cooper takes his seat in the middle of the conference table and holds up one newspaper from a stack of at least twenty-five. “As everyone can see, the whole front page is the headline ‘John Galt Is Dead.’ How did this happen? Why didn’t our friends who own these goddamn rags stop this? With friends like this, we don’t need enemies. All the articles go on to say, ‘A mystery voice turned the 67th Anniversary Celebration at New Atlantis into a fiasco.’”

  Throwing the paper on top of the pile and slamming his hand on the table, he fumes, “This is what the fuck we’re up against. It’s all anyone is talking about. A mysterious, two-bit voice interrupts the 67th Anniversary Celebration at New Atlantis and we’re looking like fuckin’ fools.”

  Leaning forward, his eyes squinting as he looks around the table, Cooper adds, “Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Those interruptions on Saturday were no accident. Obviously, hardcore terrorists have made inroads into New Atlantis. And those jokers out there haven’t got a clue. They’ve gone soft on us. Think tank, my ass! We’ve never had any security problems before. Last year, we put down all those protests in Mississippi over coastal development and nobody said a word. If anybody had a case it was those folks, but nothing, not a peep. Professor Manfreed,” Cooper says, for the first time addressing the face on the TV monitor, “what’s going on over there in your brain trust? Have you lost control? We can’t have this. We can’t be made to look like fools. We need a strategy to stamp out these rats. I’ve got an election I’ve got to win or you can kiss goodbye to your Free-for-All economics. That bitch, Cary Hinton will put all of us out of business. You listening, Manfreed?”

  On the monitor, Manfreed looks like he’s been punched in the gut. “President Cooper, let me assure you that everything at New Atlantis is under control. Believe me, I know what a disaster Hinton would be. We’ve already begun implementing a two-pronged strategy to crush the opposition. Professor Clyde Dopplemann has come up with a powerful media campaign to counter all that ‘John Galt is dead’ garbage. That’s all it is—garbage. Dopplemann’s brilliant alternative is ‘John Galt created the Internet.’ I’ve told him to saturate the media with the message. We’re also going to infiltrate Coopervilles…”

  Cooper, enraged, interrupts him, shouting, “Don’t ever call those human garbage heaps Coopervilles! They are displacement camps, illegal, squatter displacement camps. The people there have displaced themselves. They’re there because they want to be there. Nobody made them go there. Don’t ever say Cooperville again, you hear?

  “Sorry, of course,” Manfreed says flustered. “We’re going to infiltrate all those displacement…human garbage camp…illegal…squatter heaps around the country, recruit trainees from them for Atlas Fitness Centers, and get information that can help us destroy the saboteurs.”

  “Thank you, Professor,” Cooper says dismissively. “Turn off the feed,” he tells the technician, shaking his head in disgust and disappointment. “Is he gone?”

  “For sure,” the young man says.

  “So, John Galt created the Internet. And I’m the Tooth Fairy. Well, gentlemen, it’s obviously up to us. The good professor is out-to-lunch. Simmons, what have your intelligence sources turned up?” he asks the head of the FBI.

  “Mr. President, this is definitely a coordinated, nationwide sabotage. ‘John Galt Is Dead’ signs are plastered everywhere in every Cooperv…I mean in every illegal displacement camp. But there’s another message they’re putting out. In Chicago, Dallas, Seattle, and Boston, planes have been seen pulling a banner with ‘Truth is Beauty. Beauty Truth’ written on it.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “That’s what our cryptographers are working on right now, sir. We think it’s code for a radical gay-socialist-communist-artist cabal. It may even be part of an international conspiracy. In San Antonio, the message they’re putting out is ‘La belleza es verdad. La verdad, belleza.’ Don’t worry. I’ve got my best experts on it. They’ll crack it.”

  “Mr. President,” Homeland Security Director Smathers interjects. “Mr. President, we have been infiltrating the displacement camps for months. Our most up-to-date reports suggest that the squatters are simply unemployed men and women, many with children, who are moving from place to place to find work. All of our intelligence points to their just being desperate people struggling to survive.”

  “That’s impossible,” Cooper says emphatically. “I don’t believe it for a minute. There’s got to be something wrong with your intelligence. Find a way to pin something on as many of them as you can. We’ve got to have a reason to get rid of that trash once and for all. I can’t have them there on Election Day. Of course this is off the record: Do whatever it takes. If you need to, just plant drugs and weapons, then round up suspects and throw them in jail, including the ringleaders. That way, we can claim they are lawbreakers and na
tional security risks. I don’t want to know the details. Keep me out of the loop. It’s completely in your hands now. Just get the job done. And get rid of the camp on the Capital Mall—now! That’s high priority. It’s spoiling my view. I can’t go out on the balcony for a little relaxation without having to see those horrible people. Make it an example for the rest of the country. Smathers, contact Manfreed and tell him he’s got some great ideas and he should proceed with his plans. But let him know we’ll be doing it our way, too. Just don’t get specific.”

  TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 11 A.M.: MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. Countess Isabella leaves the Plaza Hotel. In a plain white blouse, crisply pleated blue skirt, and white heels, she quickly crosses Central Park South. It’s windy, so she tries to hold her hair in place with her left hand. She enters Central Park with the care of a lion tamer entering a cage. “LuAnn Buford?” she asks the first person she sees, a woman in her thirties holding a five-year-old girl by the hand. “Can you tell me where ah might find LuAnn Buford, the woman whose husband was killed yesterday, the woman who was on TV last night?”

  “No ma’am, sorry I can’t,” the stranger says, looking suspiciously at her. “But if you keep going on the walk, you’ll find someone who can probably help you.”