2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [66]
As Air Force One made its way across the United States, the President was in his flying office along with Susanna Colbert (who had been approved overwhelmingly by the Senate); John Van Dyke; and the secretary of the Interior, Franklin Little. They discussed what this trip might accomplish.
“Obviously we have no definitive answers on how to proceed,” the President said. “So we’ll take advantage of Susanna being new in office and say we want them to meet her, how brilliant she is, and how we will now lead a new charge in figuring out a financial solution to the biggest problem the country has ever faced.”
“Should I answer questions directly?” Susanna asked.
“I don’t see why not, do you, John?”
“I think if her answers are too specific it will hurt us at this point, especially since we can’t deliver. So if you say that you’ve been working on this problem since the moment you’ve come into office and it’s your top priority, I think that will be sufficient. But you can feel free to charm them.”
As the presidential helicopter toured the city, Susanna was not prepared for the devastation. She had seen all the pictures and newsreels and immersed herself in this disaster, trying to come up with any possible ideas, but seeing it in person was overwhelming. “My God,” she said. “It’s as if a nuclear weapon went off.”
“Not really,” Van Dyke said. “A neutron bomb would have at least left the buildings. A lot of dead people, but a functioning infrastructure. Here, we have nothing.”
The helicopter landed at one of the larger triage units. The presidential party greeted the sick and wounded and hopeless, and a press conference was held. Questions came in directly from various remote sites, but they were screened, as the President did not want this to be an event where he was just responding to furious people; he wanted real questions that he could give some reasonable answers to. The moderator began.
“The first question, Mr. President, is from Sally Maelstrom.” An older woman appeared on the screen. She looked as if she’d had her hair done for the occasion.
“Mr. President, the condominium I owned is no longer livable. I have been relocated, they tell me temporarily, but what is your plan? Will my home be rebuilt? My entire investment is gone.”
Brad Miller, watching the press conference in the Pasadena tent, leaped up from his chair. “That was my question!” he yelled. “That’s the answer I want! Let’s see what he says!”
“Sally,” the President answered, “thank you for asking that. The property question is one of the issues that is foremost on our agenda. As you know, insurance companies that would normally handle this in a prompt manner have been so overwhelmed that they are not responding as they should. We are in talks with all major insurers and we are also looking into other sources of revenue, as the cost is so great, the government cannot handle this alone.”
More bullshit, Brad thought.
“Sally, I want you to meet the new, and I might add, first woman secretary of the Treasury, Susanna Colbert. I have brought on Secretary Colbert because of her brilliant business mind, and as soon as we get back to Washington, this will be her first priority, rebuilding Los Angeles into the great city that it is.”
Brad mumbled to himself, You son of a bitch. That’s the same answer the attendant gives me. Why don’t you just hand out the goddamn money?!
The rest of the press conference went pretty much the same way. Obvious questions with no real answers. But there was one moment toward the end that was unscripted, when a question was directed to Susanna. It was from a forty-five-year-old man. “Ms. Secretary, where is the money going to come from? The country