Distraction - Bruce Sterling [19]
“You’re evading my point. That base has no funding. It’s lost its legal standing. If you believe the Emergency budget committee, that Air Force base no longer even exists! They’ve simply been written out of the record. They’ve been turned into political nonpersons by a stroke of a bureaucrat’s pen!”
“Well, that’s certainly true.”
“Oscar, there is a major issue here. America’s had her ups and downs, nobody denies that, but we’re still a great power. No great power can treat its soldiers this way. I can’t recognize any extenuating circumstances for this. It’s absurd, it’s rank folly. What if this behavior spreads? Do we want the Army, the Navy, and the Marines shaking down the citizens—the voters—just so they can scratch up enough cash to live? That’s mutiny! It’s open banditry! It’s close to treason!”
Oscar turned from the shrieking children and cradled the phone at his ear. Oscar knew full well that roadblocks were a very common business. On any particular day, hordes of people blocked roads and streets all over the USA. Roadblocking was no longer considered “highway robbery,” it had become a generally tolerated form of civil disobedience. Roadblocking was just a real-world analog for the native troubles that had always existed on information highways: jamming, spamming, and denial of service. To have the Air Force getting into the act was just a somewhat exotic extension of a very common practice.
But on the other hand, Bambakias’s rhetoric clearly had merit. It sounded very strong and punchy. It was clear, it was quotable. It was a bit farfetched, but it was very patriotic. One of the great beauties of politics as an art form was its lack of restriction to merely standard forms of realism.
“Senator, there’s a great deal to what you say.”
“Thank you,” Bambakias said. “Of course, there’s nothing much we can do about this scandal, legislatively speaking. Since I’m not yet officially in office and won’t be sworn in until mid-January.”
“No?”
“No. So, I believe a moral gesture is necessary.”
“Aha.”
“At least—at the very least—I can demonstrate personal solidarity with the plight of our soldiers.”
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow morning, I’m holding a net conference here in Cambridge. Lorena and I are declaring a hunger strike. Until the United States Congress agrees to feed our men and women in uniform, my wife and I will go hungry as well.”
“A hunger strike?” Oscar said. “That’s a very radical move for an elected federal official.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to lead any hunger strikes after I take office,” Bambakias said reasonably. He lowered his voice. “Listen, we think this is doable. We’ve discussed it at the Washington office and the Cambridge HQ. Lorena says that we’re both fat as hogs from six months of those campaign dinners. If this gambit is going to work at all, it might very well work right now.”
“Is it”—Oscar chose his words—“is it fully consonant with the dignity of the office?”
“Look, I never promised the voters dignity. I promised them results. Washington’s lost its grip, and everything they try just makes it worse. If I don’t seize the initiative from these sons of bitches on the Emergency committees, then I might as well declare myself a decorative bookend. That’s not why I wanted the job.”
“Yes sir,” Oscar said. “I know that.”
“There is a fallback option.… If a hunger strike doesn’t get results, then we can start a convoy and lead our own rescue mission. We’ll ride down to Louisiana and feed that air base ourselves.”
“You mean,” Oscar said, “something like our campaign construction rallies.”
“Yes, except nationwide this time. Put the word out through the party apparatus and the net, organize our activists, and rally in Louisiana. Nationwide, Oscar. Rapid construction teams, disaster relief people, the grass-roots charities, pickets, marchers, full coverage. The works.”
“I like that,” Oscar said. “I like it a lot. It’s visionary.”
“I knew you’d appreciate that aspect. So you think