by David Hearne
When she returned to the suite area, Ira and Pamela were still discussing options. “A large bus would be safer than a limo or car,” he agreed. “I’m thinking of a commercial bus shell that’s been converted into a corporate coach. Marathon Coach has a manufacturing facility in Coburg, Oregon, and….”
They looked up as Katherine stepped into the suite’s common room. Ira turned to include her in the discussion.
“I have an announcement. You ready for it?” Katherine paused and the room went silent. “The news media is reporting that an old acquaintance of mine is currently claiming he saved me from Iraq the same time that I was traipsing around the desert with the troops. And to make it a little seedier, he claims we were lovers.” Katherine announced.
“Jesus Christ!” Ira exclaimed. “Who in the hell is this bastard?”
“It’s Wilson Lawson.” Katherine responded.
“Wilson? Wilson Lawson! I can’t believe it. We were supposed to be friends. Why would he be claiming this? Let’s get in contact with him and find out from his own mouth what this is all about”, Ira ranted, “Someone must have paid him, or he has gone nuts.”
“No, we are not going to contact him. I was told by reliable sources that the problem is being taken care of, and I pray that is true. Until I hear different, we do nothing. And our only reply about this to the media is it is a fabrication, by an old acquaintance that is sometimes delusional. That will be our only comment about this subject.” Katherine said determinedly.
“That is all I know, and I do not want to waste time talking about it. What were you all working on when I interrupted you?”
“We were talking about using a motor home as our mobile campaign office.” Pamela replied.
Ira added, “Marathon Coach up in Coburg, Oregon produces lots of the touring buses for celebrities and corporate use, so I’m sure they could take care of our needs. Marathon could also take care of the modifications Pamela wants, like special plating on the sides and shielded motor, fuel tank, and chassis areas.”
Like a touring rock star, Katherine thought derisively. But she bit back the retort. The danger they faced was real. With a smile she said, “Ira, this is your baby, you get something that we can live in the next few months and conduct our campaign from. I will leave buying the bus to you, because I am sure you have a better grasp of what these things are than any of us have. Pamela, let’s talk about the security measures, we need to implement and the number of men we need to augment our Secret Service team….”
* * * *
With the news media’s insatiable hunger for mistakes, gossip, and innuendo, Pamela was able to insure a large media response for all of Katherine’s scheduled campaign stops. Every media name wanted to be the first with new dirt on the Wilson Lawson story or the reported Saddam Hussein million dollars contribution to Katherine.
Pamela continued with Frank’s basic plan of having Katherine visit various alternative energy producers. The morbid desire of the news people to learn more about Katherine gossip paid great dividends as Katherine’s visits created headlines, wherever she went, promoting solutions to a runaway oil juggernaut. Feeding on the controversy, reporters and cameramen swarmed about her. Their attention gave local, regional, and national coverage to her denunciation of Big Oil’s resistance to change and their manipulation of solutions to make change appear hopeless.
Capitalizing on the national publicity opportunity, Marathon Coach took up Ira’s challenge. The Coburg plant worked around-the-clock to outfit and deliver the forty-five-foot Laforge campaign bus, the outside shell airbrushed with a huge American flag and Katherine’s smiling portrait, within record-breaking days. Ira and some of the new security team picked up the brand-new coach, drove south, and met the Laforge campaign team in Texas. Then on to Deming, New Mexico, where the Senator was scheduled to view a solar energy joint pilot project.
As they drove, the Laforge team relaxed in new plush easy chairs, part of the luxury accommodations provided by Marathon. In route Pamela discussed their itinerary.
“The National Nuclear Security Administration’s Sandia National Laboratories had teamed with Stirling Energy Systems, Inc. to build a 300 megawatt solar farm,” she said. “It produces power for two hundred-forty thousand homes. They want you, Senator, to visit the facility, study their methods, and review the data they have gathered.”
Katherine sat back thoughtfully in her seat. “How many more sites like this are there?”
Pamela smiled. “I must admit, I am not sure. But if you look at our proposed campaign schedule, you’ll see we are going to visit quite a few of them across the country.” She pushed the ambitious campaign schedule to Kat. “National coverage will help your campaign and also promote public awareness of the projects. I think that’s what’s called a win-win situation.”
“I have one other idea that I hope you will like.” Pamela added. “I want to express the cost of these alternative energy projects in relation to the money spent daily on the war. I want to coin a name for it like the new ‘Laforge war cost yardstick’ or for short the ‘LWCY scale.’ We are spending roughly 200 million to 275 million per day in Iraq on our war efforts. Whenever we discuss the cost of an alternative energy project, we will make sure the public realizes how much just a few days of war expenses could buy us in terms of solving our energy problems.”
“I think that is an excellent idea”, Katherine said, “Certainly, one that will make us a little more hated, but what the heck, let’s go for it.”
It was the first light of dawn, and Katherine had already been awake at least an hour. She had been gazing out at the barren, but beautiful landscape along Interstate 10 a few miles east of the New Mexico border. She liked watching the break of dawn. Seeing the glimmer of headlights streaking by with their autonomous travelers. It was her time of solitude to plan, to contemplate, and gather strength. But it was often a time when thoughts of her daughter crept into her mind and her eyes would well up. She grabbed one of her many reports to focus on to turn the vision of her daughter to a fading shadow in her mind. She hated not being with Lyndsey, but it was a necessary sacrifice, if she wanted to continue with her quest for the presidency. But it was the one thing that would shatter her heart into a million pieces. Her darkest fear was that her enemies would kill Lyndsey, just to keep things at a status quo and to keep their billions rolling in.
Swaying just slightly with the motion of the moving bus, Katherine lifted her face to the hot shower spray hoping it would wash away the images of the day and her new reality. But no amount of water could change the fact that this campaign was no longer just a race for the Presidency. It was war, and a fight for her life.
“Land of Enchantment” is what the welcoming signs read as you entered New Mexico on Interstate 10. But the state did not seem that welcoming as the bus creaked and swayed from 50 mile an hour wind gust. The swirling dust was so thick that the sun was just a dim glow in the grit filled sky. It reminded Katherine of her stay in Iraq. The bus pushed on and finally the winds subsided just outside of Deming, New Mexico. A town shadowed by the rugged rocky Florida Mountains. Deming was a railroad town that funnels trains laden with coal to power plants located out in the steaming desert. Just south of Deming the terrain was a jumble of volcanic rocks resembling a scene from the Flintstones. Suddenly, the prehistoric landscape evolved into a futuristic sea of solar panels shimmering brightly in the New Mexico sun.
A welcoming committee met them at the gate. “Senator Laforge, I want to welcome you and your guests to the world’s largest solar farm!” boomed the deep voice of Mr. Carson greeting Senator Laforge and her entourage at the visitor’s gate. His words rode on a rushing roar of applause from the gathering that her visit had attracted.
“Mr. Carson, we are so excited to see this fabulous installation,” Senator Laforge shouted back, “It looks like those solar panels go on forever. How large is this solar farm?”
As Mr. Carson nodded to the Mayor of Deming who had accompa
nied Katherine, he said proudly, “Well the site covers about 3,200 acres of New Mexico desert. I know it looks like just rows of dark glass out there, but 300 megawatts of electricity pour out of these babies. That is enough electricity to power a quarter million homes. And I don’t mind bragging that we are 60 times bigger than our largest rival located in the Bavaria region of Germany.”
“How much did this facility cost?” Katherine pressed.
“Well, Ma’am, I’ve read the newspapers about you and prepared for that question using your war cost yardstick. This place cost about the equivalent of 6 days of war expenses in Iraq or in dollars, one point five billion.”
Katherine nodded. “Your company is doing what this country needs.”
“Here in New Mexico we consider ‘sun rays’ as one of our natural resources, Senator, and we have a lot of it.” His eyes squinted through heavy-duty sunglasses. “Your state has oil, West Virginia has coal, and we have sunshine. We are proud to be leading the way in this industry and contributing some small part in reducing our country’s fossil fuel dependence.”
The group was winding its way down an avenue of Solar Panels, and Katherine was enjoying the caress of the dry warm wind blowing in the desert. She asked Mr. Carson, “Are the winds normally blowing like this?”
“Oh, yes, Deming is definitely a windy town.” Mr. Carson replied.
“Is it strong enough for powering wind turbines?” Pamela asked.
“Certainly, but geothermal would be a better natural resource to develop here in conjunction with solar,” he confided, “There are a few wind turbines around here now, and I’m sure someone will eventually build a wind farm here! Senator, my company is dedicated to providing cheaper sustainable energy, that is ecologically safer, and non-destructive to the earth. We are in direct competition with the old fossil energy companies, and I do mean old fossils. We pride ourselves that our energy sources are not only cleaner, but also far safer for the crews that bring the power to the people. Our power sources do not expose employees to cave-ins, black lung disease, or require soldiers to die to prop up some oil producing foreign regime lining Big Oil’s pockets.”
Katherine felt suddenly disconnected from the discussion. Carson’s words melted into the warm wind unheard as she tried to comprehend what she saw before her. It was a strong Déjà vu feeling that took hold of her. A hand-written cardboard sign taped to a post read “We love you, Katherine,” but this was not the first time she had seen it. This sign had been a fragment of a dream she had experienced early in the morning. She had seen a woman’s hand scrawl the message across the cardboard. The same hand then taped a coin to where the dot of the ‘I’ was. She recognized the handwriting. It was hers and the coin was an ancient Hulagu coin. She knew that Zoe had somehow placed it there. Why she had dreamt it was a bigger mystery. In some unexplainable way, there was still some mysterious connection between Katherine and her twin.
Ira put his hand on her shoulder and asked, “Katherine, are you okay?”
Katherine said nothing, only nodded absently still gazing at the sign. Ira sensing a problem announced to Carson, “I think Katherine is feeling the sun just a little too much, and I need to get her back in the shade.” Her face was pale, but she snapped out of her trance and protested ending the tour of the facility.
“Mr. Carson this is just one of those things I live with, and I assure you that I am fine. I just had a momentary bout of nausea, and it is gone. So let’s continue with our tour. What new developments do we see on the solar energy horizon?” Katherine asked.
“Well, Senator, to righteously answer that question we do need to go back to my air conditioned office. I have a presentation of the future of the solar industry and great visuals on the new technology.” He motioned them back to the control office. “Senator, we are at the threshold of the solar energy era. Our technology today is equivalent to what the computer industry was when they marketed those old floppy drive computers, people use to rave about back in the eighties. Our current solar panels convert less than 20 percent of the sun’s energy to electricity, and our nemesis harp on how inefficient that is, but we are rapidly advancing this infant technology faster than the advances of most other industries. For example, we now have methods of using the solar arrays’ excess energy to power large compressors that squeeze huge volumes of air into underground caverns. When there is no sun, the compressed air is released to turn the turbines that generate the electricity. Another method being used is called concentrated solar power. It consists of mirrors focusing sunlight onto a pipe filled with a liquid to create steam to power a turbine that generates electricity. The hot liquid heats molten salt, which has great heat retention qualities. The super heated salt is later used to create steam to power the turbines.”
Carson’s explanation sounded more like a badly skipping CD than anything comprehensible to Katherine. Only some of his words were heard as her mind kept struggling with the sign, she had just left and her dream from the morning. How could she have dreamt of the note and the Hulagu coin before she had physically seen them?
“I think this is all very wonderful and certainly a promise of a much better future,” Katherine said, hoping her remarks had some bearing to what Mr. Carson had been talking about. She realized that she had probably appeared very preoccupied and felt this was time for one of those little speeches previously prepared for these occasions. Katherine looked past Mr. Carson and started. “I think everyone in the alternative energy industries realize that they can reduce foreign oil dependencies to zero, if we can simply prevent Big Oil from derailing these programs. Being an energy self sustaining country offers other major benefits. It lowers global tension and the huge military expense Big Oil requires of our country for it to find and transport the oil from the many countries that would like to see us destroyed. Our massive trade deficit would be greatly reduced and greenhouse gases would be slashed. Domestically more jobs would be created in emerging energy sectors, than loss from the oil industry. This is a new era that can reshape the power bases of the world. As countries become energy self sufficient, some will find this as a strength that they can exert on countries that have fallen behind in the energy race, like us. They can deny access to the antiquated oil reserves or destroy them with little effect to their own energy needs. Countries such as ours could become powerless to lesser countries that desired to cripple us by denial of energy. Unfortunately, we are not far from that possible scenario. We need draconian change in the source of the energy we use. But only you can make that happen, because Congress only marches to the order of the titans of Big Oil.”
For a few moments Katherine forgot about the note, the Hulagu coin and glowed from the raucous applause she was receiving from her speech. She looked out into the crowd and smiled as a feeling of warmth of their acceptance embraced her. The sea of placards waved about over their heads, and suddenly a woman toward the back came into view. Her eyes locked onto Katherine’s, and Kat felt momentarily transfixed. It was that same feeling she had experienced back in Lumberton, Texas when ComDef1’s pleading eyes stared at her through the laboratory’s observation glass as it died. Then a placard rose up in front of the woman’s face, and she vanished. Katherine watched the spot, but when the wavering placards parted, the woman was no longer there.
A reporter shouted at her, “Senator Laforge, what are you going to do about the immigration problem we suffer with here in New Mexico?”
Katherine heard the question and snapped to her senses. Her face was drained of color, but she turned bravely to the reporter and said. “My immigration solution is tied to my National Sales Tax proposal. If we adopt the National Sales Tax, everything anyone buys in America will be taxed. That would apply to all people physically here in our country. Illegal aliens would be paying the same tax that their neighbor with a social security card pays. Their tax-free wages will no longer be an incentive to come here or an unfair advantage over law abiding American workers. Now regardless of how you obtained your
money, you are going to be taxed when you buy something with it. Since people earn money simply to exchange for goods and services, a new non evasive, easy to implement method will solve many of our immigration problems and underground economy issues. Millions of people, who do not pay taxes at all, now will pay their fair share once my plan becomes law. Even the petty pickpocket will pay taxes on what he steals and the maid who you occasionally employ will pay her fair share. The street corner drug dealer flashing his roll of cash will pay his fair share of taxes for his gold chains, spinning hubcaps and baggy pants. No more citizens being fined, harassed or imprisoned for not understanding complex taxation codes where even educated tax lawyers disagree on their interpretation. Our current system is abusive, invasive, complicated and one that makes criminals out of many citizens because of its complexities and unforgiving nature. My new National Sales Tax will solve the majority of our immigration problems and make April the 15th, Freedom Day.”
Through the roar of clapping and chanting “Katherine for President” she could hear Pamela telling the press no more questions would be entertained. Katherine stood there waving and smiling at the adoring crowd and then felt one of her secret service agents nudge her forward. She turned to Mr. Carson and thanked him for his time and praised him again, and then she and Ira started down the corridor lined by security agents and police. A corridor cut though the middle of her supporters by arm linked men in uniforms winding right up to the steps of her awaiting campaign bus. Katherine started moving down it, smiling and shaking some hands. A few yards from the bus a little girl stood smiling excitedly on the sideline and reached out her hand to Katherine. “Ms Laforge, don’t forget your coin. Don’t you want it?” The little girl yelled.
Katherine looked at the coin. It was a Hulagu coin. She stooped over to speak to the little girl and get a closer look at it, but an agent interrupted and told her that he should take it from the little girl. Another agent kept pushing Katherine down the corridor. Katherine shouted out to the little girl, “Thank you! Where did you get it?”
