She moved back slightly, letting the floater take in the line of carts as it moved past her.
“However, let me emphasize once again that it is not our aim to nursemaid these people. Our aim is to give them back their dignity. By giving them work we give them a purpose in life, and by giving them food we give them the strength to move forward. Once we have allayed their fears and dealt with their most basic needs, we can begin to tackle the real problems—problems we all, as inhabitants of this great City, have to face. The problems of meaning and direction.”
From where he stood at the control board nearby, Beresiner looked up, then drew his finger across his throat. At once the overhead lights dimmed. “Great!” he said. “I’ll intercut it with shots of the men stacking the carts and preparing the shops, then add the piece you did earlier. We’ve got a slot at one-thirty after the lunchtime news, and another at three. We can run it then.”
Mary nodded, then looked about her, feeling an immense satisfaction at all she saw. It had begun. She was finally doing something worthwhile. Not what she’d set out to do, perhaps, but effective nonetheless. And maybe better, in a sense, for at least this way she could sleep nights. “Has Michael rung?” she asked.
Beresiner shook his head. “Not that I know. Ask Jill. She’s fielding all incoming calls just now.”
She went across. They had set up a control room on one side of Main. From there her principal helper, Jill, was running the show. “Hi! Has Michael rung?”
“Not yet.”
Mary frowned, surprised. “Okay. So what’s been coming in? Anything of interest?”
Jill half smiled, like she had some big secret, then handed a slip of paper across.
She read it, then looked up sharply. “Kennedy? He wants to meet?” “Looks like it. It came in five minutes back. What shall I do? Tell him to fuck himself? Mind you, he’s probably the only one who hasn’t!” “Now ...” But Mary was smiling. There was so much spirit here. So much real desire to change things. She sighed. “Okay. I’ll see what he wants. But make sure he understands there’ll be no deals. Tell him we don’t need to make deals.”
Jill smiled. “Okay, but he’ll try, anyway, you know that. It’s how these men are. They think no means yes. It’s how they were bred.” “Sure. But it’s going to change. We’re going to make it change, right?”
“Right. Oh, and Gloria called. Says the total’s gone past fifteen million.
We’re going to have to recruit more people to process all of this.”
“Good. Then hire them. Anything else?”
“Hythe-Mackay are suing for use of their livery colors. ...”
“Fight it.”
“And a reporter from MedFac’s ‘Downline’ channel called. He wants to interview you.”
“Downline, huh?” She considered a moment, then nodded. “Okay. We can do it here.”
“You sure that’s wise? What if it’s a setup? What if he’s out to humiliate you?”
She smiled. “Let him try. He gets out of hand, I’ll break his jaw!” Jill laughed. “Thattagirl! Okay. I’ll arrange it for six. That all right with you?”
“That’s fine. Now I’d better get running.” She hesitated. “You sure Michael hasn’t been in touch?”
“Things are bad,” Johnson said, throwing a stack of old-fashioned files into Michael’s in-tray. “We’ve achieved only twenty percent of our enrollment targets. If this goes on we’ll be busted by the year’s end!” “Sit tight,” Michael said, smiling back at him. “Things will change. They may be scared off right now, but it won’t last. And the chance to live forever—who else is offering that?”
“Maybe . . . but it’s hurting us, Michael. The kind of people we’re trying to attract . . . well, they’re put off by what Mary’s doing. More than put off, in fact—some of them are incensed!”
Michael shrugged. “So what do you suggest? You fancy walking in to Mary and telling her she’s got to pull the plug? You want that job, Dan?” Johnson shook his head, then looked away, exasperated. “You don’t like this, do you? I mean, all of this pandering to the Old Men. . . .” “No. I feel like a fraud. But it’s necessary if we’re going to get the rest of the package through. Health care and decent pay for our employees, that’s a good goal, wouldn’t you say? A damn sight better than the single-minded pursuit of profit! If a few rich bastards want to pay for all that, then I’m sure as hell not going to stop them!” “You sound just like Mary.”
He laughed. “Do I?” Then, “Oh, shit! I didn’t call her. . . .”
The comset on the desk beside him started flashing.
“Maybe that’s her.”
Michael leaned forward. “Yes?”
It was his secretary’s voice. “Shih Lever? It’s Representative Kennedy.”
“Joe . . .” He looked to Johnson, then waved him away. “I’ll take it.” He stood up and walked across as the screen came down on the far side of the office.
A life-size Joseph Kennedy faced him, a sad smile on his lips.
“Michael. . . how are you?”
He smiled. “I’m fine, Joe. And you?”
Kennedy shrugged. “So-so. You know how it is.”
“I’m—“
“No. Don’t apologize. You were right, Michael. You and Mary. I should have fought my ground much harder. I gave too much. I...” He shrugged. “What can I do for you, Joe?”
“It wasn’t you I wanted, to be honest. It’s Mary, I—“ There was a buzzing behind him. He turned, looking off-screen. “Hold on, my secretary’s saying something to me. What’s that? Oh. Okay.”
He turned back. “Well, what do you know? That was your wife’s office, returning my call.”
Michael smiled. “Whatever it is, you won’t persuade her.” “No?” Kennedy laughed softly. “Maybe not. You know, you married well, Michael. Out of your level, and I don’t mean that in any pejorative sense. She’s one in ten billion, I realize, that now.”
“Sure. So why are you seeing her?”
“Just going through the motions. You know how it is. Politics . . .”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“No? Nor I. ... But I’m tired, Michael. Bone weary. This life ... I didn’t think it would be this hard. That buzz we got when we were winning—you know, I thought it would last forever. I really thought. . . Still. History now, eh?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“No. It’s done with now. I’ll be stepping down. Let someone else take on the burden. Parker, maybe. Or Fisher. Someone younger.” “Shit . . . you’re only thirty-five. You’ve a good thirty years in you yet!”
“You trying to talk me back into it, Michael?” Michael shook his head. “No. I know how you feel. After Bryn died ... it was never the same.” “No . . . Well, I’d better get some work done. I’ve promised Jean I’d take her somewhere tomorrow, so I’d better clear my desk.” He paused, as if reluctant to go, his eyes misted. “I miss you, Michael. Miss working with you.”
“Yeah . . . Still. . . take care, huh?”
“And you ...”
Michael stood there afterward, feeling strange, and not knowing why. It was true what Kennedy had said. You did things, thinking it would always be the same, but it changed. It always changed. That was the only certainty in this life.
she lay ONHERBACKon the bed, her vacant face staring up into the sunlight from the nearby window. She seemed to be asleep, but there was no movement of her chest and when Nan Ho touched her arm, he found the flesh was cold. He turned to the guard, behind him in the doorway. “Bring Surgeon Lu. And tell him to fetch a resuscitation unit.”