Empire e-1

by Orson Scott Card

  “And DeeNee?” asked Cole.

  “That’s different. The men who were waiting to ambush you—they’re dead. We can’t question them. Did they know she was planning to kill Reuben? Were they planning to kill him, or just subdue him and get the PDA? Did they work for Verus or Torrent or some third party we don’t know about? It’s all so murky and I don’t know. But she was a student of Torrent’s.”

  “Were the guys who were with her?”

  “No. Nobody else.”

  “I don’t know, Cecily. I just don’t know.”

  “I don’t know either. I’m not accusing him. I’m really not. But this stuff just won’t go away.”

  Cole nodded. “I guess it’s like having a song on your mind. You can’t get rid of it. You hate the song. So you sing it to somebody else, and now we’ve both got the song on our minds.”

  “I’m so sorry!” she said. “You’ll notice that I didn’t call you, you just came over.”

  “Absolutely,” said Cole. “And I’m glad you told me. Really. No lie. I’m glad you told me and nobody else.”

  “Because they’d think I’m crazy?”

  “Because word might get around and somebody might kill you,” said Cole.

  She was rocked by that. “Come on.”

  “If it’s true,” said Cole. “If it’s true. Then you’re just begging to be murdered. To shut you up.”

  She reached over to the papers, turned on the shredder beside the desk, and turned them into confetti.

  “Very dramatic, but they’re on disk, aren’t they?” said Cole.

  “Not for long,” she said. “And yes, I do know how to overwrite files so that they are truly and completely erased.”

  “But you know and I know,” said Cole. “And we’re both going to keep watching, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think of this as something dangerous.”

  “Yet you didn’t talk about it to anybody.”

  “I thought they’d think I was crazy. Everybody talks about Torrent like he’s God.”

  “The savior of America,” said Cole. “But it might not be assassination. Declaring you mentally unfit and taking your children away vould do the same job, wouldn’t it?”

  “You’re scaring me,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. But I’m not joking. You’ve planted the seed in my mind. I’ll watch. I promise you. I love this country. I don’t want a dictator. But I don’t want you to talk to anybody else about this. and I don’t want you to do any more research. You had to call people to get this information. You had to go to websites, you had to vrite to people, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “So you might already be on a list somewhere. Even if it’s only nside Torrent’s head. For what it’s worth, though, I think there’s a good chance you’re completely wrong. Which means you’re safe. But then it’s just as important not to say these things out loud to anyone else because if Torrent’s innocent, then this is… really kind if vicious slander.”

  Cecily nodded again.

  “Cecily, let’s both watch him. Let’s see how things play out. What he does with real power, when he gets his hands on it.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “Meanwhile,” said Cole, “I really have missed you guys. I really do like your kids. Can we be friends? Paranoids together, yes, but also friends?”

  “Mark and Nick adore you.”

  “And vice versa,” said Cole. “I’ll visit now and then, and sometimes we’ll watch Torrent on the news and exchange knowing glances. With any luck, we’ll laugh about what we were thinking tonight.”

  “Were we thinking it? Or was I the only one?”

  “Oh, you’ve got me thinking it, all right. You got the song on my mind, too.”

  They left the office. Cole insisted on rinsing the ice cream dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. “First time I’ve done dishes for anybody who wasn’t my mom,” he said. “I mean anybody I liked who wasn’t my mom.”

  “I’ll have cookies for you next time.”

  “Good, because it’s my life’s ambition to be fat.”

  She gave him a hug at the door and he hugged her back. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I feel better now, because somebody else knows.”

  When he was gone, she locked the door, went downstairs, got all the confetti from shredding those papers, and ran them down the garbage disposal in the kitchen.

  At the Democratic convention,Torrent was nominated for President on the second ballot.

  A week later, at the Republican convention, he was nominated by acclamation.

  He became the first President since Washington to be elected with all of the electoral votes. And the largest popular vote in history, of course, since it was only divided with a handful of fringe candidates. But there was a huge turnout at that election. As pundits delighted in pointing out, if Torrent had gotten only half the votes he got, he still would have had the largest vote total of any presidential candidate in history.

  People believed in him. They were ready for peace. They were ready to be united.

  And in a house in Potomac Falls, Virginia, the Malich family watched the election returns with Bartholomew Coleman as their guest of honor. There was no suspense. But the TV stayed on, filling the sound clips of cheering crowds and excited newsmen.

  Now and then, Cole and Cessy exchanged knowing glances.

  When the polls closed in California, President Nielson appeared on camera. He had been reelected to Congress from his Idaho district in a landslide of his own. He seemed genuinely happy as he said, “I am pleased to announce my resignation from the presidency, effective tomorrow at noon. I was never more than an emergency President, and the emergency is over. There’s no reason for Averell Torrent not to start right away doing the job you chose him to do.”

  Cecily broke down in tears. Just for a moment. “That’s just like LaMonte. Have we ever had a President who truly didn’t want the job?”

  “Besides Warren Harding?” said Cole.

  “Who?” said Mark.

  “A dumb guy who got chosen to be President once because he looked presidential and all the people who actually wanted the job had too many people who hated them,” said Cole. “But your mom is right. Nielson did a good job as long as he was needed. And he chose his successor.” He grinned at Cecily. “Just like Trajan and Hadrian and Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius.”

  “And you claim you’re not a historian,” said Cecily, wiping her eyes, but laughing ruefully.

  Thirty minutes later, Torrent came on the screen.

  “I am honored beyond measure by the trust the American people have shown in me. I’m glad that so many people have come to the polls to show they share my dream of a nation united, a single people who sometimes disagree, but always remain friends and fellow-citizens. I will live up to your trust to the best of my ability.

  “I am moved by the generosity and humility of my good friend, President LaMonte Nielson. Not only did he raise me to national prominence, but also he trained me for the job that you have voted to give me. His willing resignation from the presidency is in the spirit of Cincinnatus, the great Roman leader who, having saved his city, resigned all his offices and returned to his farm to continue his life as an ordinary citizen.”

  “A Roman reference,” said Cole.

  “But not an emperor,” said Cecily.

  Torrent was still talking. “There is nothing ordinary about LaMonte Nielson, however. He will continue to serve in Congress, and he will continue to hold a place in the hearts of the American people, in gratitude for his excellent service during our deepest national crisis since the Civil War.”

  “Exactly the right thing to say,” said Cecily.

  “Tomorrow I will be sworn into office as the second appointed Vice President to succeed to the presidency because of the resignation of his predecessor. In January, I will be sworn in again, for the term you just elected me to. But I have not forgotten that
last June, on the thirteenth day, foreign terrorists murdered the elected President of the United States, the Vice President, the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and other dedicated servants of the American people in the performance of their duties.

  “This was an offense to the entire American people. During the turmoil of the past few months, we have had our minds on problems within our borders. But the outrage committed against us has not been forgotten. Our response will be measured. It will be just. It will be thorough. It will be inevitable.

  “But throughout the world, let every nation look to America for friendship. If you live at peace with your neighbors, if you provide fundamental human rights to your citizens, then we will join hands with you in perpetual partnership. We will show you that America longs for peace. We will have it within our own borders. We will help maintain it wherever it is threatened.

  “And here at home, we will look at ourselves, not as groups arrayed against each other, quarreling over endless divisive issues, but as a single society, linked together by a shared culture, a shared history, and a shared future. Let’s build that future together, day by day, as neighbors, with respect, as you have joined together tonight in this great exercise of democracy.”

  That was it. He was done.

  There was no cheering crowd, because he had not given his speech at election headquarters. There was no election headquarters. He had not campaigned. Instead, he had gone from city to city, state to state, wherever the local candidates would agree to appear with him together, on the same platform, and each pledge to support their opponent if he should win. It was as if he were running an anti-campaign.

  And now, his acceptance speech was given quietly, while sitting in his living room, with a single camera crew. Behind him, shelves of books. Beside him, his family. The perfect image of what Americans would like to think their Presidents are—intelligent, loving, kind, modest, and surprised by their good fortune.

  “I wonder,” said Cole, “if he’ll remember that Cincinnatus speech four years from now.”

  “He won’t have to,” said Cecily, “if he’s reelected.”

  “He seems like exactly the President I’ve wished for,” said Cole.

  “Me too,” said Cecily.

  “Hope it’s true.”

  “Me too.”

  Cole got up from the sofa and stretched. “Let’s have cookies.”

  Afterword

  The originating premise of this novel did not come from me. Donald Mustard and his partners in Chair Entertainment had the idea for an entertainment franchise called Empire about a near-future American civil war. When I joined the project to create a work of fiction based on that premise, my first order of business was to come up with a plausible way that such an event might come about.

  It was, sadly enough, all too easy.

  Because we haven’t had a civil war in the past fourteen decades, people think we can’t have one now. Where is the geographic clarity of the Mason-Dixon line? When you look at the red-state blue-state division in the past few elections, you get a false impression. The real division is urban, academic, and high-tech counties versus suburban, rural, and conservative Christian counties. How could such widely scattered “blue” centers and such centerless “red” populations ever act in concert?

  Geography aside, however, we have never been so evenly divided with such hateful rhetoric since the years leading up to the Civil War of the 1860s. Because the national media elite are so uniformly progressive, we keep hearing (in the elite media) about the rhetorical excesses of the “extreme right.” To hear the same media, there is no “extreme left,” just the occasional progressive who says things he or she shouldn’t.

  But any rational observer has to see that the Left and Right in America are screaming the most vile accusations at each other all the time. We are fully polarized—if you accept one idea that sounds like it belongs to either the blue or the red, you are assumed—nay, required—to espouse the entire rest of the package, even though there is no reason why supporting the war against terrorism should imply you’re in favor of banning all abortions and against restricting the availability of firearms; no reason why being in favor of keeping government-imposed limits on the free market should imply you also are in favor of giving legal status to homosexual couples and against building nuclear reactors. These issues are not remotely related, and yet if you hold any of one group’s views, you are hated by the other group as if you believed them all; and if you hold most of one group’s views, but not all, you are treated as if you were a traitor for deviating even slightly from the party line.

  It goes deeper than this, however. A good working definition of fanaticism is that you are so convinced of your views and policies that you are sure anyone who opposes them must either be stupid and deceived or have some ulterior motive. We are today a nation where almost everyone in the public eye displays fanaticism with every utterance.

  It is part of human nature to regard as sane those people who share the worldview of the majority of society. Somehow, though, we have managed to divide ourselves into two different, mutually exclusive sanities. The people in each society reinforce each other in madness, believing unsubstantiated ideas that are often contradicted not only by each other but also by whatever objective evidence exists on the subject. Instead of having an ever-adapting civilization-wide consensus reality, we have become a nation of insane people able to see the madness only in the other side.

  Does this lead, inevitably, to civil war? Of course not—though it’s hardly conducive to stable government or the long-term continuation of democracy. What inevitably arises from such division is the attempt by one group, utterly convinced of its rectitude, to use all coercive forces available to stamp out the opposing views.

  Such an effort is, of course, a confession of madness. Suppression of other people’s beliefs by force only comes about when you are deeply afraid that your own beliefs are wrong and you are desperate to keep anyone from challenging them. Oh, you may come up with rhetoric about how you are suppressing them for their own good or for the good of others, but people who are confident of their beliefs are content merely to offer and teach, not compel.

  The impulse toward coercion takes whatever forms are available. In academia, it consists of the denial of degrees, jobs, or tenure to people with nonconformist opinions. Ironically, the people who are most relentless in eliminating competing ideas congratulate themselves on their tolerance and diversity. In most situations, it is less formal, consisting of shunning—but the shunning usually has teeth in it. Did Mel Gibson, when in his cups, say something that reflects his upbringing in an anti-Semitic household? Then he is to be shunned—which in Hollywood will mean he can never be considered for an Oscar and will have a much harder time getting prestige, as opposed to money, roles.

  It has happened to me, repeatedly, from both the Left and the Right. It is never enough to disagree with me—I must be banned from speaking at a particular convention or campus; my writings should be boycotted; anything that will punish me for my noncompliance and, if possible, impoverish me and my family.

  So virulent are these responses—again, from both the Left and the Right—that I believe it is only a short step to the attempt to use the power of the state to enforce one’s views. On the right we have attempts to use the government to punish flag burners and to enforce state-sponsored praying. On the left, we have a ban on free speech and peaceable public assembly in front of abortion clinics and the attempt to use the power of the state to force the acceptance of homosexual relationships as equal to marriages. Each side feels absolutely justified in compelling others to accept their views.

  It is puritanism, not in its separatist form, desiring to live by themselves by their own rules, but in its Cromwellian form, using the power of the state to enforce the dicta of one group throughout the wider society, by force rather than persuasion.

  This despite the historical fact that the civilization that has crea
ted more prosperity and freedom for more people than ever before is one based on tolerance and pluralism, and that attempts to force one religion (theistic or atheistic) on the rest of a nation or the world inevitably lead to misery, poverty, and, usually, conflict.

  Yet we seem only able to see the negative effects of coercion caused by the other team. Progressives see the danger of allowing fanatical religions (which, by some definitions, means “all of them”) to have control of government—they need only point to Iran, Saudi Arabia, the Taliban, or, in a more general and milder sense, the entire Muslim world, which is oppressed precisely to the degree that Islam is enforced as the state religion.

  Conservatives, on the other hand, see the danger of allowing fanatical atheistic religions to have control of government, pointing to Nazi Germany and all Communist nations as obvious examples of political utopianism run amok.

  Yet neither side can see any connection between their own fanaticism and the historical examples that might apply to them. People insisting on a Christian America simply cannot comprehend that others view them as the Taliban-in-waiting; those who insist on progressive exclusivism in America are outraged at any comparison between them and Communist totalitarianism. Even as they shun or fire or deny tenure to those who disagree with them, everybody thinks it’s the other guy who would be the oppressor, while our side would simply “set things to rights.”

  Rarely do people set out to start a civil war. Invariably, when such wars break out both sides consider themselves to be the aggrieved ones. Right now in America, even though the Left has control of all the institutions of cultural power and prestige—universities, movies, literary publishing, mainstream journalism—as well as the federal courts, they feel themselves oppressed and threatened by traditional religion and conservatism. And even though the Right controls both houses of Congress and the presidency, as well as having ample outlets for their views in nontraditional media and an ever-increasing dominance over American religious and economic life, they feel themselves oppressed and threatened by the cultural dominance of the Left.