2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [50]
CHAPTER NINETEEN
His wrist made a small vibrating noise. Robert Golden looked down and saw a disturbing story. Almost two years had gone by since the bus massacre where old people were killed for no apparent reason, and now it had happened again. This time in Arizona, near a retirement community. A young man had boarded a city bus and shot eight people he thought were over the age of sixty. Seven were; one was a forty-six-year-old man who had obviously had a long night. Just when the first incident had slowly faded from people’s memory, here it was again.
Robert Golden had recently turned sixty-five and, as head of AARP, was one of the go-to people regarding anything involving aging. AARP had grown from an organization that claimed thirty-five million members in 2010 to one that had almost a hundred million in 2030. Their power in Washington, always legendary, was stronger than ever, and whenever they felt threatened by laws that would impinge on their age group, they went into action. They were excellent at organizing protests and bothering Congress and everything that one does to remain the squeaky wheel.
Golden called into his office his trusted underling, Paul Prescott, one of the few younger people on the board. Paul was fifty, no spring chicken, but he was considered the link to the younger generation, which of course he knew nothing about. A gay man with no children, he would brag about how his nieces and nephews loved him to death but he basically hated everything that young people did and had always felt old even when he was a kid.
“Did you hear about this?” Golden asked.
Paul looked at the screen and replayed the story. “This was at an Indian casino?”
“No,” Golden said, “a retirement home. People are trying to say it was an isolated incident, but it sure looks a lot like the one two years ago.”
“I never believe in isolated incidents,” Paul said. “I don’t think the human race is capable of those.”
“What do you mean?”
“People aren’t that unique. It would be impossible for only one person to do something, no matter what it is. A person needs other people to even think of an idea, whether it’s art or an atrocity or anything. Single, unique events are really nonexistent.” Golden was impressed. Maybe it was the fact that Paul made the dean’s list at Harvard or that he had written some of the most popular articles for AARP magazine, but whatever it was, Robert Golden thought he was a genius.
“I never thought of that,” Golden said. “But what about the Mona Lisa?”
“What about it?”
“Well, no one ever painted that again. Wasn’t that unique?”
“No, Bob. Of course not. For that to be unique it would mean that people stopped painting altogether. Just because no one ever captured an unhappy woman in quite the same way, it doesn’t mean that thousands didn’t try.”
“I get your point,” Robert said, wanting to get back to the subject. “Why don’t you look into this incident and see what you can find. See if there might be a trend. I’m hoping it’s just a copycat crime and it won’t amount to much.”
“Copycat crimes usually come in the first few months. Two years later doesn’t suggest copycat.”
“Fine. So maybe it’s bigger than a copycat. Check it out. I’ll want you to write something to put the members at ease. Let’s not let this blow up if we can help it.”
“I hear you,” Paul said. And he left the office.
What a brilliant guy, Golden thought. If I were gay, that would be my kind of man. Actually, I probably would go for a body-builder type. I don’t know, maybe … and before he could continue with his once-every-six-months who-would-I-like-if-I-were-gay thoughts, his intercom rang. “Yes?”
“Dr. Mueller’s lawyer wants you.”
“Thank you.” Robert prayed Mueller wasn’t canceling. He swiveled