Distraction - Bruce Sterling [98]
“Is that a problem? We could walk apart and talk things over on encrypted phones.”
Sosik sighed. “Would you slow down to human speed for a minute? I’m an old man.”
Oscar said nothing. He followed Sosik north up Prospect Street, hunching his shoulders against the chill. Bare trees, straggling Christmas shoppers, the occasional Caribbean storefront.
“I can’t stand it in that office just now,” Sosik said. “He’s throwing up, he’s shaking like a leaf. And the people in there, they all worship the ground the man walks on. They’ve had to watch him come apart at the seams.”
“Yeah, and our walking out on them isn’t likely to help their morale much.”
“Shut up,” Sosik explained. “I’ve been in this business thirty years. I’ve seen a lot of politicians come to bad ends. I’ve seen them go drunk, I’ve seen them go crooked, sex scandals, money scandals.… But this is the first guy I ever saw who cracked up completely before he even made it to Washington.”
“Alcott’s always ahead of the curve,” Oscar nodded. “He’s a visionary.”
Sosik shot him a nettled glance. “Why’d you pick on this poor guy? He’s not any kind of normal pol. Was it the wife? Did she have something on you? Was it the personal background thing?”
“Normal pols aren’t getting the job done, Leon. These aren’t normal times. America’s not a normal country. We’ve used up all our normality. There isn’t any left.”
“You’re not normal. What are you doing in politics?”
Oscar shrugged. “Someone has to deal with your thirty-year legacy of solid professional achievement, Leon.”
Sosik grimaced. “Well, he gave it his best shot. And now he’s toast.”
“He’s not toast. He’s just crazy.”
“Crazy is toast. Okay?”
“No, it isn’t. It’s true—he’s had a mental breakdown. That’s a problem. It’s an image problem. When you get a problem that big, you can’t stonewall it. You have to shine a light on it. This is the problem: he starved himself half to death in a sincere protest, and now he’s lost his mind. But our keyword here isn’t ‘crazy.’ Our keywords are ‘sincere’ and ‘protest.’ ”
Sosik turned up his coat collar. “Look, you can’t possibly play it that way and get away with it.”
“Yes, Leon, I could. The question here is whether you could.”
“We can’t have a Senator who’s non compos mentis! How the hell could he ever get a bill passed?”
“Alcott was never cut out to be a legislative technician. We’ve had enough of those nitpickers. Alcott’s a charismatic, he’s a moral leader. He can wake the people up, he can guide them and show them the mountain top. What he needs is a way to compel their attention and make them believe in him. And now, he’s finally got it.”
Sosik considered this. “Kid, if you did that and it really worked, it would mean that the whole country’s gone crazy.”
Oscar said nothing.
“How exactly would you angle it?” Sosik said at last.
“We have to demonize Huey on the patriotism issue, while we come clean on the medical problem. Constant bedside reports whenever Al is lucid. Winston Churchill was bipolar. Abraham Lincoln was a depressive. We call in all our chits from the FedDems, we get the party to stay with him. We fly the wife in, she’s a fighter, she’s standing by him loyally. Grass-roots sympathy mail, we’re spooling it in by the ton. I think it’s doable.”
“If that’s doable, then I’ve lost touch. That’s not the America I know. I don’t have the stomach for that. I’d have to resign. You’d have to be chief of staff.”
“No, Leon, you’ve got to be chief of staff. You’re the seasoned professional, you’ve got Beltway credibility, and I’m … Well, I can’t be in the picture at all. With my personal background, I can’t possibly front a big medical-publicity spin.”
“I know you want my job.”
“I’ve got my hands full already.”
Sosik snorted. “Don’t give me that.”
“All right,” Oscar said. “I admit that I’d like to have your job, but I have my own agenda to look after now. You see, it’s Greta.”
“Who?”
“The scientist, damn it! Dr. Penninger.”
Sosik was astonished. “What? Her? She’s pushing forty and she’s got a face like a hatchet! What