Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [76]
His mixed blood showed, and his education showed because he let it. Bentley Allen was not going to talk down to people. He didn't need the political jobs; he was technically on leave from a tenure appointment on the faculty of a wealthy private university.
"Documentary, Mr. Randall?" Bentley Allen asked. He initialed the memo and put it in an OUT tray.
"No, sir," Johnny Kim answered. "Evening news this time."
"So what's newsworthy about me tonight?" the Mayor asked.
"Fallout from the documentaries," Harvey Randall said. "Network news, all networks. What are public officials doing on the day Hamner-Brown doesn't hit Earth."
"All networks?" Johnny Kim asked.
"Yes."
"Wouldn't have been a bit of pressure on that, would there?" Kim asked. "Like from an off-white house on Pennsylvania Avenue?"
"Might have been," Harvey admitted.
"And what The Man wants is good vibes," the mayor said. "Keep calm, cool and collected on Hot Fudge Sundae."
"Which falls on a Tuesdae next week," Harvey responded automatically. "Yes, sir—"
"So what if I screamed panic?" Mayor Allen asked. There was a gleam of amusement in his eye. "Or said, 'Here's your chance, brothers! Burn whitey out! Get yours, you'll never get a better time'?"
"Aw, bullshit," Harvey said. "I thought everybody wanted to be on the evening national news."
"You ever get impulses like that?" Bentley Allen asked. "You know. Irresistible impulses to do the one thing that would put you in a new line of work? Such as spilling a martini down the dean's wife's dress? Which, I may add, I did once. Purely accidental, I assure you, but look where it got me."
Now Harvey really did look worried, and Mayor Allen let the grin play across his face. "Needn't worry, Mr. Randall. I like this job. Or another one, in a somewhat larger office back east … " He let his voice trail off. It was no secret that Bentley Allen would like to be the first black President; there were serious political managers who thought he could do it in another dozen years or so.
"I'll be a good boy," Mayor Allen said. "I'll tell the people how we expect full attendance in all city offices, and I'll be right here—well, literally here, but I'll tell them there," he added, pointing to the ornate office. "And I expect all my top people to set the same example. I may or may not say that I'll have a color TV going, because I'm damned if I'm going to miss a show like that."
"Business as usual with time off for a light show," Harvey said.
The Mayor nodded. "Of course." His face took on a serious look. "Privately, I'm a bit worried. Too many people taking off. Do you know that almost every U-Haul trailer in the city has been rented? By the week. And we've even had a big surge of requests for time off from my police and firefighters. Not granted, of course. All leaves canceled on Hot Fudge Sundae."
"Worried about looting?" Harvey asked.
"Not enough to say so in public. But yes," Mayor Allen said. "Looting and burglaries with all the homes that have been or will be abandoned. But we'll handle it. If your crew is set up out there, we'd better get to it. I've a meeting with the director of Civil Defense in half an hour."
They stood and went into the outer office.
The traffic on Beverly Glen was nice. Very light for a Thursday evening. Harvey drove with a wide grin. I've got a hell of a story, he thought. Even if I never get another foot in the can, I've got a story. Not only do millions think the world's going to end, but millions more hope so. It shows in their attitudes. They hate what they're doing, and keep looking nostalgically at the "simple" life. Of course they won't voluntarily choose to be farmers or live in communes, but if everybody has to …
It didn't really make sense, but people's attitudes often didn't. That didn't bother Harvey Randall at all.
And there'd be another great story