Jack got Bug Jack Barron (losing Sara, poor-couldn’t-cut-it good-heart good fuck Peter Pan living relic of what we all lost making it all a silly-ass-lie Sara), and you got this gig in Evers, Mississippi, you white nigger you. Schmuck you are to think anyone could bring it all back, bring back youth truth don’t give a shit close to the bloody happy balling days when we knew we could do it all if only we had the power. Now we got the power, I got the power, Jack got the power, and to get it he paid our balls, is all.
Who are you to expect Jack to play hero, lay it on the line, lose it all for some dumb dream? Would you, man, would you?
I would if I could, thought Lukas Greene, was I white and it could matter. And, masochistically, he left the TV set on, sat back to watch and hope in the man who could matter, if he got it back, the man playing his cop-out game with Howards’ stooge Hennering—good old Jack Barron.
Cop-out, eh, Kingfish? thought Jack Barron as he waited for the commercial to end. Just trying to get me to blow my cool, eat dumb bastard Hennering on the half-shelf, fry your fish, Luke, while Howards gets blood in his eyes for my scalp—kill Freezer Bill all right, but among the fatalities TV career kick-’em-in-the-ass Jack Barron. Or do you still really believe in the old Berkeley truth-justice-bravery damn-the-torpedoes days bull kamikaze attack? Schmuck either way, Lothar. No one hands hari-kiri knife to Jack Barron. Paid my dues many long years ago name of my game’s no longer Don Quixote.
The commercial ended and the too-fiftyish, too-true-blue, too-1930s-FDR-handsome loser face of Senator Theodore Hennering (D-Ill.) split the screen even with Jack Barron. Looks like he’s holding in a year’s worth of cream-rubber-chicken-plastic-peas fart, Barron thought. To think this dum-dum has eyes for the White House. Teddy and his ghosts’ll eat him alive… Make nice, Jack, baby, he warned himself grimly.
“I hope I may make the assumption that you’ve been watching the show tonight, Senator Hennering,” Barron said, giving little fey false-modest, watch-yourself-Teddy-boy smile.
“Uh, yes, uh, Mr Barron. Most interesting, uh, quite fascinating,” Hennering said hesitatingly in his fruity-hearty voice. Jeez, thought Barron, I gotta feed this lox his lines too? He looks like who-did-it-and-ran tonight.
“Well, then, I’m sure that after hearing Governor Greene you have a few things you’d like to tell the American people, Senator, seeing as you’re the cosponsor of the Freezer Utility Bill which would grant the Foundation a Freezing Monopoly. I mean, Mr Johnson and Governor Greene have made some pretty serious charges against the Foundation…?”
“I… uh… cannot speak for the Foundation for Human Immortality,” Hennering said, his eyes peculiarly and uncharacteristically furtive. “I will say that I do not believe that the Foundation practices racial discrimination. My… uh… record on Civil Rights, I think, speaks for itself and I would… er… dissociate myself immediately from any individual, organization, or cause that would perpetuate racial… ah… policies.”
Shit, the old blimp looks like he’s scared stiff, Barron thought. What gives? He saw that Gelardi had wisely cut down the now ashen face of Hennering to a quarter-screen inset. I could cut him up and feed him to the fishes and wouldn’t Luke love that, Barron thought with reflexive combativeness. Watch yourself, man, you’ve got too many knives in Bennie Howards’ back as it is…
“You are cosponsor of the Freezer Utility Bill?” Barron asked, straining to be gentle. “You do still support the bill? You do still feel it will pass?”
“I’m against discussing the chances of pending legislation,” Hennering said, fingering his collar.
Mo-ther! Barron thought. He looks like he’s ready to croak. I’ve got to get this boob to say some nice things about Bennie Howards or I’ll have the Foundation all over me. Lead the creep by the nose, Jack, baby.
“Well, since you are one of the authors of the bill, surely you can tell us why you believe that the Foundation for Human Immortality should be the only organization permitted to Freeze bodies in this country?”
“Why…ah, yes, Mr Barron. It’s a matter of responsibility, responsibility to… uh… those in the Freezers and to the general public. The Foundation must be kept financially sound so that they can continue to care for the Frozen bodies, and continue their… uh… immortality research so that the promise of eternal life that cryogenic Freezing holds will not become a… cruel deception… cruel deception… (Hennering’s mind seemed to wander; he caught himself, grimaced, continued.) The Foundation stipulates that all income not required to maintain the Freezers will go into research while the… ah… fly-by-night outfits that attempt to compete with it do not.
“Safety for those in the Freezers, financial soundness, the ability to channel large sums of money into immortality research, those are the reasons why I believed… uh, believe that the Foundation for Human Immortality must have a Freezer Monopoly. It is fitting, sound moral and economic policy that those in the Freezers pay for their upkeep and for the research that will eventually revive them. Yes… uh, that’s why I sponsored the bill.”
“Wouldn’t a Federal Freezer Program do the same thing?” Barren shot back unthinkingly, wincing even as the words left his mouth. (Cool it, man, cool it!)
“Ah… I suppose so,” Hennering said. “But… ah… the cost, yes, the cost. To duplicate the Foundation facilities or buy them out would cost the taxpayers billions, and more billions on research. Not practical fiscally, you see. The Soviet Union and China have no Freezer programs at all because only in a free enterprise system can the cost be borne.”
You forgot God, motherhood, and apple pie, Barren thought. Is this cretin in some kind of shock? I knew he was dumb, but not this dumb. Howards has him in his hip pocket—this is Bennie’s Presidential candidate. Howards must be chewing the rug by now. And son of a bitch Luke must be having an orgasm. Gotta do something to cool it; I need Bennie Howards on my back like an extra anus.
“Then you contend, Senator Hennering, that the Foundation for Human Immortality performs an essential service, a service which simply could not be provided by any other organization, including the Federal Government?” Barren asked as the promptboard flashed “3 minutes,” frantically signaling for Gelardi to give Hennering three-quarters of the screen, my words in his mouth (even if he does look like a week-dead codfish) schtick.
“Uh… yes,” said Hennering fuzzily. (His head’s farther from here than the Mars Expedition, thought Barron.) “I think it’s fair to say that without the Foundation there would simply be no Freezer program in the United States of any scope or stability. Already well over a million people have a chance at immortality who would otherwise be… uh… decomposed and buried and dead and gone forever thanks to the Foundation. Uh… of course, there are millions dying each year who cannot be accommodated, who are dead for all time… But… uh… don’t you think that it’s better for some people to have some chance at living again, even if it means that most people in the foreseeable future won’t, than for every American to die permanently until all can be Frozen, the way the Public Freezer people would have it…? Don’t you think that’s reasonable, Mr Barron…? Don’t you…?”
The last was almost a whine, a piteous plea for some kind of absolution. What the hell’s got into Hennering? wondered Jack Barron. The SJC couldn’t have got to him—or could they? He’s not only scared shitless, he’s wallowing in guilt. Why do these things have to happen to me? He keeps this up, and Howards’ll stomp me with high-heeled hobnailed jackboots!