Distraction - Bruce Sterling [194]
“Of course ‘Huey do that,’ dammit! Go aboard a nice French submarine—I know you got a dozen of ’em lurking offshore. Have ’em take you to a nice villa, on Elba, or St. Helena or something. Take a few pet bodyguards. It’s doable! You eat well, you write the memoirs, you’re tanned, rested, and ready. Maybe … maybe even, someday … if somehow things get much, much worse here in America … maybe you’ll even look good. It sounds insane, but I’m not sure I can even judge anymore. Maybe, someday, deliberately imposing schizoid states of mind on unsuspecting human beings will become politically fashionable. But it sure as hell isn’t now. Read tomorrow’s opinion polls. You’re toast.”
“Kid, I’m Huey. You’re toast. I can destroy you, and your ungrateful bitch girlfriend, and your entire research facility, which, in point of fact, is, and always will be, my research facility.”
“I’m sure you can try that, Governor, but why waste the energy? It’s pointless to destroy us now. It’s too late for that. I really thought you had a better feel for these things.”
“Son, you still don’t get it. I don’t need any ‘feel’ for it. I can do all that in my spare time—while I pat my head and rub my belly.” Huey hung up.
Now the dogs of War were unleashed on the psychic landscape of America, and even as rather small dogs, with blunt, symbolic teeth, they provoked political havoc. No one had expected this of the President. An eccentric billionaire Native American—for a country exhausted by identity crisis and splintered politics, Two Feathers had seemed a colorful sideshow, an Oh-Might-As-Well candidate whose bluster might keep up morale. Even Oscar had expected little of him; the governorship of Colorado had never given Two Feathers much chance to shine. Once in the national saddle, however, Two Feathers was rapidly proving himself to be a phenomenon. He was clearly one of those transitional American Presidents, those larger-than-life figures who set a stamp on their era and made life horribly dangerous and interesting.
Unfortunately for Green Huey, the American political landscape had room for only one eccentrically dressed, carpet-chewing, authoritarian state Governor. Two Feathers had beaten Huey to the White House. Worse yet, he correctly recognized Huey as an intolerable threat that could not be co-opted. He was resolved to crush Huey.
A war of words broke out between the President and the rogue Governor. Huey accused the President of provocative spy overflights. This was true, for the sky over Louisiana was black with surveillance aircraft—feds, proles, military, Europeans, Asians, private networks, anyone who could launch an autonomous kite with a camera on board.
The President counteraccused the Governor of treacherous collaboration with foreign powers during wartime. This was also true, though so far the premier effect of the Dutch War had been to saturate America with curious European tourists. The Europeans hadn’t seen anyone declare a War in absolute ages. It was fun to be a foreign national in a country at War, especially a country that sold bugging devices out of brimming baskets at flea markets. Suddenly everyone was his own international spy.
The President then upped the ante. He sternly demanded the swift return of all the federal weaponry stolen from the ransacked Louisiana Air Force base. He threatened unnamed, severe reprisals.
The Air Force weapons were, needless to say, not forthcoming. Instead, the Governor accused the President of plotting martial law and a coup d’état.
Huey’s Senators launched a marathon procedural war within the U.S. Senate, with double-barreled filibusters. The President demanded impeachment proceedings against the two Louisiana Senators. He also announced criminal investigations of all of Louisiana’s Representatives.
Huey called for the President to be impeached by Congress, and for antiwar activists to take to the streets in a general strike and paralyze the country.
Faced with the prospect of a general strike, the President counterannounced his unilateral creation of a new, all-volunteer,