2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [9]
Betsy never loved the idea of her husband running for president, but she turned out to be his strongest asset. She was whip smart and probably gave better stump speeches than he did. And when Margaret Sandor let out her “Jew” comment, it was Betsy who would not let it die. Her husband played it down, always taking the fake high road, but Betsy made it her mantra. “Have we learned nothing as a country?” she would say. “Do we really want a president who has hate in her heart for any American? How would you know that she didn’t hate you?” The people loved that line.
On election night they both watched in silence as Matthew Bernstein became the forty-seventh president of the United States. Polling had become so precise that it took all the fun out of elections, but there was always a chance, remote as it was, that something unexpected would happen. In this case it was exactly as the polls had predicted, and at 11:30 P.M., Eastern Standard Time, Ohio put Bernstein over the top. Obviously he was very happy, but he also felt somewhat powerless.
By the quarter-century mark, almost three trillion dollars was going just to pay the interest on the national debt. There was no longer room for any meaningful programs; it seemed that the president’s job was just to keep the ship afloat. Initiating any great changes had become impossible. It was just too expensive. And Bernstein, still in his early fifties, also sensed that the younger generations were losing interest in their country. It had always been warned that the giant debt would fall to them, but until it actually did, young people still held out hope for the American dream. Once they were being taxed higher, earning less, and receiving less government assistance than their parents, the resentment level soared. Bernstein tried to address this in his campaign, promising to ease the burden on the young, but if you pissed off the seniors, you didn’t get elected to anything, so it was difficult to take too strong a stand. He wound up where all presidential candidates did, somewhere in the mushy middle.
* * *
Brad Miller woke up at three in the morning with a pain in his chest. It must be indigestion, he thought. His last tests had all been fine, and although he didn’t have perfect arteries, he was on so much advanced medication that the thought of a heart attack was far from his mind.
He got up, had some water, sat down, and waited for the pain to subside. After ten minutes he pressed the emergency button on the fridge and a man appeared on the screen.
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“How do you know if you’re having a heart attack?”
“I can tell you. Place your right hand in the sending device and sit comfortably.” Brad placed his hand in the silicone sleeve and sat down, his chest feeling very tight. After two minutes the man was back. “You’re not having a heart attack.”
“It sure feels that way.”
“Where’s the pain?”
“Where do you think? In my foot.”
“I mean where exactly is the pain? In your chest, in your arm?”
“Right in the center of my chest.”
“Sir, I want you to jump up and down ten times.”
“Are you crazy? I’ll die!”
“You’re not having a heart attack. Please jump up and down ten times.”
Brad did as he was told. He felt like an idiot jumping up and down in his kitchen, but after the eighth time he let out the biggest belch of his entire life. It was so loud he thought his neighbors would hear it. The man on the screen smiled. “Do we feel better?”
“I don’t know about you, but yeah, the pain seems to be subsiding.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No. Is this paid by insurance?”
“Yes, sir. There is a five-hundred-dollar deductible but everything else is covered.”
“I’m curious, how much is the whole bill?”
“Two thousand, sir.”
“Wow. Well, I guess it’s worth five hundred to know I shouldn’t have pastrami with orange juice.”
“I would concur. Do we need anything else?”
“I’m okay, how about you?