Mary had tried to tell him that simple sin, in the form of greed, dishonesty, and jealousy, had always and would always ultimately destroy every family, business, and government that denied sin’s existence and didn’t provide for ways to deal with it, since it was the constant human state. But William had followed his beliefs with great success while he had been governor of North Carolina, setting up one program after another designed to improve the state and its citizens.
They had discussed their differences again on two occasions during the presidential campaign, but he had not been able to see her side. Ultimately she had to be content with the possibility that she might have at least planted some seeds. But she doubted whether these seeds would ever grow in the environment she assumed pervaded the White House. I wonder how often the topic of good and evil comes up in their discussions?
In two days she would have a chance to experience that environment herself. It should really be interesting. Just then Sarah and Tim came into the kitchen, followed by a shout from their father, Graham, that he was right behind them.
Sitting down for breakfast, the teenagers’ excitement over their departure for Washington was obvious. “Do you think Aunt Carrie fixes breakfast every morning for Uncle William and Katherine?” Sarah asked, passing some toast to her father.
“I don’t know,” her mother said and smiled, “but I sort of doubt it. Anyway, you can ask her on Friday. I’m sure she won’t be cooking for all of us at Camp David!”
“Will there be guards everywhere?” asked Tim. “Like if we want to play tennis, will there be guards all around the court?”
His father chuckled. “I doubt it. Camp David ought to be a pretty secure spot. Now if your cousins Robert and Katherine visited us here and you played tennis down at the park, there probably would be a few Secret Service people around.”
“Wow! I bet it’s cool being driven everywhere by the Secret Service,” Tim concluded.
“Well, again, I don’t know,” said his mother. “But while Sarah finds out about Aunt Carrie’s breakfast, you can ask Katherine about the Secret Service. Please pass the strawberry preserves.”
There was a brief silence as everyone ate, and then Sarah said, “It was nice of Uncle William to invite us to Camp David for the weekend. I’m sure there were lots of other important people he could have asked.”
“It was nice,” agreed her mother. “When your Aunt Carrie called me a month ago, she figured he could probably use a little rest, away from the newsmen and the politicians and all that. She said it would be good for the family to get together again, to sort of help him recharge his batteries. Since we don’t have a ‘family retreat’ like some of the other presidents, it’s wonderful that we can use Camp David. By the way, are you guys pretty well packed? Do you need me to do anything? I’ve got two closings tomorrow, so this is my last day to handle any details.”
“Oh, I forgot something!” Sarah said, getting up and walking toward the den for her bookbag. “Last night when we came in so late from Tim’s baseball game, I was supposed to give you this paper for you to sign from health class. I’m supposed to tell you about this thing the school is thinking about doing next year, if the PTA approves it.”
Sarah returned to the breakfast room and handed the paper to her mother, who began reading it while Sarah sat down again and continued. “It’s about a meeting in three weeks—Thursday I think—on one of the capabilities of this huge new computer we’ve got. Ms. Bowers, our health instructor, is all excited about it, and she wants to explain it to the parents.” Sarah noticed the surprise registering on her mother’s face as she neared the end of the letter.
Suddenly serious, Mary handed the letter back to Sarah. “Please pass it to your father. Graham, take a look at this. Sarah, exactly what did Ms. Bowers tell you?”
“Now don’t freak out,” Sarah said, glancing back and forth between her parents. “I think this is pretty wacko, too. I’m just like telling you what she said. I don’t necessarily agree with it, okay?” Both her parents nodded as Tim reached for the last bit of cheese grits in the bowl.
“You know about virtual reality, right, Mom?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. It’s when they use a computer to set up these arcade games where you wear a helmet and pretend to have a shootout with an imaginary gunman, or something like that.”
“One of its original uses was in training a fighter pilot in extremely lifelike emergency situations while he was safely strapped into a simulator,” her father added.
“Well, apparently this computer,” continued Sarah, “is like a thousand times more powerful than even those airplane simulators, and one of the things it can do is realistically stimulate human senses. So, apparently—and please don’t freak out—the computer company says they can set it up to teach what Ms. Bowers calls ‘no-risk sex education.’
“They’ve devised some way for a student to go into a room by himself or herself, put on this helmet, special gloves, and some sort of pants that you wear, like football pants—one designed for boys and one for girls—and then using virtual reality, supposedly the computer can create a completely real sexual experience for whoever’s wearing this stuff.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Mary exclaimed, looking across the breakfast room table at her husband. “That’s absurd. What’s our high school doing, giving our children realistic sexual experiences?”
“Mom, I asked you not to freak out. Ms. Bowers said it’s a way to teach sexual responses in class without anyone getting pregnant, or catching a disease, or anything like that....She’s really excited about it and wants to tell the parents about it at this meeting next week.”
“I can’t believe it,” Graham said.
With a little pleading in her voice, Sarah continued, “I don’t know the details, Dad. That’s what this meeting’s about. I think the parents have to approve it first. Please just go to the meeting and hear about it yourselves. I can tell you that a lot of the senior boys are upset that they’re going to graduate before all of this gets going next fall.” Sarah tried to smile.
“I bet they are,” said her mother, not smiling at all. “Graham, I think we’ve both got to go to this meeting.”
“That’s fine, honey,” he said. “Of course we’ll go. But please, I know how you get sometimes. Maybe we don’t understand it all yet, and it’s not as crazy as it sounds.” He smiled. “Please just relax and enjoy this weekend with the family in Washington, and don’t let this computer thing spoil it. We’ll find out about it in a couple of weeks.”
Mary took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll try not to think about it this weekend, though it’s the sort of thing that drives me crazy. The social experimenters just keep chipping away at the few values we’ve still got left. I know, I know,” she smiled, and raised both hands to her family before anyone could protest. “I’ll quit. Thanks for the uplifting information, Sarah. Now you and Tim better get going if you plan to make it to school today.”
WASHINGTON—That morning the president and his domestic policy advisor, Ted Braxton, invited the formal congressional leadership—the top senator and congressman elected by each party caucus—to meet in the Cabinet Room at the White House. After some polite talk, the six men shifted to business.
We really need this meeting to go well, William thought, stopping himself from nervously tapping his pen on the table. “Again, thank you all for coming,” he began. “As you may know, we have our first press conference later this afternoon. While that may receive the media’s attention today, I consider this meeting to be far more important. We want to move our domestic program forward as quickly as possible, and we’ve asked you here as a bipartisan group to seek your input on how to accommodate as many constituencies as possible. John, do you want to start?”
John Dempsey, the senior senator from the president’s party, who had been a Washington fixture for almost forty years, cleared his throat. “Mr. President, you obviously have our full support for your programs. We c
ompletely agree that the way to get this nation back to work is more job training, plus more public-sector-funded jobs, like road construction and environmental clean-up. Once the spending authorizations are introduced in the House, we’ll drive hard for approval in the Senate.”
“And we should be ready to introduce the spending authorizations contained in your budget right after the Easter recess,” said Trenton Patterson, the majority whip in the House. “We’ve taken a little longer than usual on the budget, to run all the possible scenarios with OMB and Treasury, including various interest rate assumptions so we can speak decisively about the deficit implications.”
“And what is the consensus?” asked the president, turning to Ted Braxton.
“Taking mid-range figures for the projections and including the proposed tax increases on cigarettes, liquor, and some church incomes, the deficit should only be about $350 billion this year,” Braxton replied.
“And that’s where you’ll lose us,” interrupted Warner Watts, the opposition’s majority leader in the Senate. “Besides this church tax business, which many of us feel is unconstitutional, your spending program is just off the charts. What about the national debt? We don’t have the votes to stop you in the House”—he glanced at Bill Phillips, his party’s counterpart in the lower chamber—“but I think we can at least hold you up for a good long time in the Senate.”
“Warner, you know I hate the deficit and the national debt as much as you do,” William replied. “But we’ve lived with it for years, and somehow we’ve survived. You also know I campaigned on the pledge to spend whatever it took to get everyone who is now on welfare trained, to get thousands of units of public housing built, and to get hundreds of thousands of jobs created over the next four years, then cut back the spending, once and for all, after those goals have been reached. That’s how we’ll finally get rid of the deficit. When everyone is self-sufficient and everyone has a decent home.”
“Mr. President,” Senator Watts responded, “that plan sounds noble as all get out, but it won’t work. Creating all those new bureaucracies to train people and to build houses and to make jobs—the bureaucracies never go away. They become permanent, costing us more and more. And the deficit also includes all these entitlement programs, from health care to military pensions. I understand you also plan to increase those benefits. How are you going to pay for all of this, sir?”
“First, we’re writing ‘sunset’ provisions into all of our new programs, just as we did in North Carolina, where it worked perfectly. A program came on line, did its job, and then shut down.”
“This is Washington, Mr. President, not Raleigh,” Congressman Phillips offered.
Annoyed by the interruption and the implied put-down, the president continued, “And we’re only increasing benefits by a small amount to make up for years of neglect. People are ultimately more important than any budget. And, to pay for it, all of these new jobs will create new taxpayers and new tax payments. Our projections show the deficit will be large this year and the first half of next year. But as new jobs create new taxes, the deficit will come down quickly.”
“You hope,” said Watts, obviously skeptical.
Hold your temper, the president thought, but be firm. We need his support for this legislation to pass. “Warner, we’ve got to give this program a chance. It’s what I campaigned for, and it’s what the American people elected me to do. I’m asking for your help.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, the majority of Americans split their votes last November, and they weren’t for you. Despite what most of the press says, we don’t feel you have any mandate to push through these spending increases when the nation is obviously broke.”
His anger rising despite himself, Harrison sidestepped the last remark and said, “So it’s going to be politics as usual for another four years? We propose realistic and innovative ways to move our nation out of stagnation and malaise, and you thwart us at every step; so that nothing gets done? Is that what the American people deserve?”
“I wouldn’t want to speculate on what they deserve, sir,” Watts replied. “But as long as they keep splitting their votes between different parties in the House, Senate, and presidency, so that no party or philosophy has a clear majority or mandate to lead, I guess that’s what we’ll have.” He smiled. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and win a huge majority in next year’s congressional elections. Many senators from our party are up for reelection, too.”
“Maybe,” the president said, refusing to return the smile. “But that’s over eighteen months from now. Our nation needs to create new jobs and housing today, not tomorrow. Will you help us?”
“Not if it means the spending increases we hear you’re about to propose.”
“Even if they’ll help the hardest hit in our society and they’re guaranteed to last only four years?”
“Mr. President, pardon my bluntness,” Watts said, “but your guarantee isn’t worth much in this town. We’ve heard it all before. Most of us figure that in four years there’s a good chance that you’ll be gone. But we and the nation will have to live with the increased interest payments on the national debt you’re proposing for years and years to come. We just can’t saddle future generations with that, and we won’t help you do it.”
“Mr. President, I think it’s pretty obvious that the opposition’s leaders are doing their usual best to be obstructionists,” volunteered Congressman Patterson. Ted Braxton frowned.
“And I think it’s pretty obvious that these programs are the epitome of the tax-and-spend approach that has kept us in this mess for almost forty years,” retorted Senator Watts.
It’s slipping away from us, William thought. What’s the answer? Trying to sound more conciliatory, the president tried again. “Warner, Bill. More than anything, the country is sick and tired of gridlock. I was elected to move us forward again. We can’t have four more years of stagnation; not even two. Stopping all federal programs might end the deficit, but it will hurt too many people. I’m asking you to trust me that we can build up programs, accomplish our goals, and then reduce spending way below where it is today.”
Senator Watts paused and looked at Phillips before replying. “Mr. President, we know you’re a good man and that you believe that’s possible. But we’ve been here a long time, and all we’ve ever seen is programs grow, costing more taxpayer money, with fewer results; they never go away. So we can’t in good conscience help create more of them. You send your folks back and see where they can cut, not just spend, and we’ll be happy to talk again, any time. But we’re firm on opposing these spending increases.”
“Then it’s politics as usual,” said the president, obviously unhappy. He paused and seemed to relent. “We’ll try, Senator. We’ll try. Ted, let’s get our team together next Tuesday morning, right after the Easter recess, and see where we can cut.” Standing up to signal the end of the meeting, the president forced a cool smile, then shook hands all around. “Thank you for coming,” he said, as they walked to the door.
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA—The USS Fortson was tied up at Pier 24 undergoing modifications to the crews’ quarters. She was not scheduled to depart again for six weeks, giving the crew a much needed rest while some significant personnel changes were made. After lunch that same Wednesday afternoon the ship’s executive officer, Commander Richard Anglin, convened a department heads meeting in the wardroom. The attendees were the ship’s six senior officers, the same ones who had met the previous week in the captain’s cabin, absent the captain himself. Two days earlier, Lieutenant Commander Jimmy McKnight had departed the ship, finishing two years as the operations officer. His replacement, Lieutenant Commander Thomas Dobbs, had arrived on the Friday before to conduct the turnover of the operations department before McKnight’s departure. He and the other department heads, including Lieutenant Commander Hugh Harrison, the weapons officer, followed the executive officer’s suggestion that they be seated. He chaired the meeting from the head of the wardroom tabl
e.
Commander Anglin surveyed the five other men seated around the long table, then said, “Let’s get started. I think you’ve all had a chance to meet Thomas Dobbs, and I’ve waited a few days to hold this meeting until he could at least get his bags unpacked. I’d like to stick to one subject: the two new divisions we’re getting and the berthing changes the shipyard is making now.
“Starting at the top, Thomas, with you, you’ll be berthing in the admiral’s cabin, since we don’t have a flag officer on board now. That’ll give you your own stateroom and head, and obviously the accommodations are the best on the ship.”
“Thank you, Commander, but that’s really not necessary. I’ve felt out of place there for the last five days. I’m happy just to have a normal department head’s stateroom,” said Dobbs.
“Well, the instructions we received from the admiral were that to the greatest extent possible the women and homosexuals were to have separate berthing and heads, and I think this makes the most sense, so just enjoy the accommodations.”
He turned to the weapons officer. “Now, Hugh, let’s talk about your new missile fire controlmen—uh, women. Your ten new FTM’s will be arriving next week, since the Fourth Division berthing spaces were easy to divide and there were two heads nearby. And of course we’ve had to install a bulkhead to separate Third Division from the passageway, so the women can walk back and forth to the ladder without viewing a naked torpedo man.
“But the new fire control officer, Lieutenant Slocum, arrived on board this morning. She’ll live up in forward officers country, by herself, in one of the three staterooms. And shipyard has installed a little three-way sliding indicator on the outside of the small head, marked ‘Vacant,’ ‘Men,’ and “Women.” She should probably go ahead and meet with you and the FT chiefs before they depart next week, to go over the equipment and the departmental procedures. Any questions?”
The President Page 6
