2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [12]
“I have everyone’s number,” President Bernstein replied.
“I don’t have time for this. But I must say, this is a very good program. It has the voice and face down pat.”
“That’s because I’m real.” At that moment Allen, one of Dr. Mueller’s assistants, came rushing into his office.
“It’s him!”
“Who?”
“The President!”
“How do you know?”
“There’s no digital manipulation. We just got confirmation. And I called a special number and the Secret Service verified he’s talking to you … now!” Dr. Mueller motioned for Allen to leave.
“Mr. President … I’m sorry, I thought it was a joke.”
“So does everyone,” the President laughed.
“Well, it’s an honor to talk to you. How may I be of assistance?”
“Are you going to be in Washington anytime soon?”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I certainly could be.”
“How about Wednesday?”
“You would like me there on Wednesday?”
“Yes. I always ask people if they are going to be in Washington anytime soon. It’s more polite than saying, ‘Be here on Wednesday.’”
“What time, sir?”
“How’s noon?”
“Is that another question where the answer is meaningless?”
“Yes, please be here at noon. I’m going to have a lunch for a few people in the health industry. I would like to talk over some new ideas. I’d love you to be present.”
“I’ll be there.”
“We’ll cover all costs.”
“That’s fine, sir, I’m happy to cover it myself.”
“Well, good. You have more money than us anyway. By the way, I just decided, this is the last call I’m making myself. The thrill is gone.”
“Well, I hope I’m not the reason.”
“Of course not, you just happened to be there when the fun disappeared. See you at noon on Wednesday.” The President smiled and the screen went blank. No matter who you were, whether you liked the man or not, it was still a thrill to get a call from the president of the United States.
Maggie Mueller was very excited. “The White House? What do I wear to the White House?”
“He didn’t say anything about spouses, honey.”
“Oh, screw you,” Maggie half joked. “I’m going. I don’t have to sit in the meeting but I’m going to the White House.” At that moment Dr. Mueller’s watch buzzed. It was one of his assistants. Sam never could get over this. His father had given him old comic books when he was a young boy to encourage him to read. His favorites were Richie Rich and Dick Tracy. And now here he was, almost as rich as Richie and with a watch exactly like Dick’s. What would have happened if his father had given him Wonder Woman? In any case, there was his assistant’s face on his wrist, always starting out with the same question.
“Am I bothering you, sir?”
“What is it?” Mueller asked, making sure he had nothing in his hand when he turned it to look at the watch. As silly as it sounded, when the device first hit the mainstream, people would get so excited they would forget they had coffee in their hands and dump it into their laps like in a Three Stooges movie. On the very first watches, Apple T&T even had a video warning before the face would appear, just in case someone scalded himself, but people hated that. The company changed it to a warning on the box: “Make sure hands are free before answering.” That was sufficient to release them from liability.
“The White House called to confirm the fifteenth at noon,” Mueller’s assistant said. “The invitation is for both you and the missus.”
The one bad thing about the watches was that people could hear both sides of the conversation, unless the recipient wore an earpiece, which no one did. “See!” Maggie said.
“Thank you, Sarah, I’ll make sure my wife is informed.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mueller. Good-bye.” And his watch went back to displaying the time. Sam put his arm around Maggie.
“I wouldn’t go without you, you know that.”
“You’re so full of shit. But I’m still excited.”
* * *
Why anyone wanted to be president of the United States became more and more of a mystery. Campaigns were endless, and the bubble one lived in was