She smiled at the cameras, a conspiratorial smile. "I don't think I really have to tell you all where it goes," she said. "I'm sure you all know just as well as I do. We Martians are, as a culture, blessed with healthy common sense, with keen minds. We are, after all, the descendants of those who left poverty and despair on Earth, who gave up their home planet to come here and forge a new reality. The vast majority of that money, that 230 trillion credits, is sent back to Earth. Some of it is given to the WestHem government as taxes. Some of it goes into the pockets of WestHem executive council members and congressmen as political contributions. But most of it, perhaps sixty percent, goes to rich corporate stockholders; people who have never even been to Mars and consider our planet to be an unsavory though valuable possession. These are the people who are raping our planet, who are keeping us in poverty. These are the people who are the enemy of Mars. And these people are the ones that we need to be free of."
She looked meaningfully into the camera now, a serious, sincere expression upon her face. "You, the people of Mars, have elected me to a four year term as your governor. I have just taken an oath of office that makes that position official under our constitution. Now, as your duly elected and sworn representative, I will share with you what has been my goal the entire time, what has been my dream. It is my desire that — with your consent — we strive to make the Planet of Mars completely independent from the government of WestHem within the year."
The booking area of the downtown police substation was its normal, chaotic self. Located just inside the back door of the facility, near a fenced in parking area for patrol carts, the intake waiting lounge (as it was called) contained more than two dozen teams of police officers from all over the district, all of whom had at least one and in some cases as many as three, prisoners with them. The prisoners waiting to be processed were sitting on a long plastic bench that ran the length of the far wall, their hands all cuffed to metal rings that were installed every meter. They were a motley collection of criminals, all very dangerous looking, most of them accused of fairly serious crimes since people generally were not arrested and hauled in for mere misdemeanors. The officers with them were gathered in the center of the room on plastic seats that had been put in for this purpose. Every ten minutes or so a haggard looking booking officer would emerge through the sliding door at the other end of the room and call out a prisoner's name. The officers guarding him would then release him from the bench and accompany him inside where he would begin his latest trip through the Martian criminal justice system, joke that it was.
Usually the booking area was an extremely loud place to be as the criminals talked and sometimes engaged in verbal fights with each other and as the officers talked among themselves about their jobs and their lives — the latter group's conversation often being considerably more profane than the former's. At this moment however, the room was eerily silent, as quiet as it had ever been, probably since the day before the police station was opened nearly seventy years before. All eyes in the room were riveted to the Internet screens mounted high on two of the walls, all mouths hanging open in sheer surprise as they heard the first two minutes of the new governor's speech. Cops and criminals alike simply could not believe what they were hearing come from the middle-age, though strangely handsome woman's mouth.
Brian Haggerty and Lisa Wong, who were near the center of the room, awaiting their two prisoners' names to be called so they could be booked for second degree murder (which might get them as much as six months in jail if they had priors), were among the cops watching. Both were just as flabbergasted as their colleagues. Had she really just said independence from WestHem? Had she really just called the corporations criminal? Granted, Governor Whiting was a favorite among the rank and file of just about every Martian law enforcement agency. Her tough talk on crime and criminals and her cries for increased funding and increased prison sentences almost guaranteed that. She had been the first politician in the history of Mars to actually gain the support of all of the planet's police departments, both at the administrative level and the street level. But what was this madness she was spouting now? Was it a joke?
"Is she out of her damn mind?" Brian whispered to his partner just as she declared her goal for her term. "Independence?"
"This is unbelievable," Lisa said. "She's insane. They'll crucify her for even saying that!"
There were some other murmurs, both from the cops and the criminals that were much to the same effect. Nor were they alone. As Whiting paused in her speech for a moment to let her words sink in, the babble of hundreds of onlookers in the audience chamber could clearly be heard being transmitted live from the capital. The idea of an independent Mars, in which the Martians followed and controlled their own destinies, was certainly not a new one. On the contrary, Martians from all walks of life had expressed that thought many times before. But usually such words were spoken in bars or at parties when alcohol and marijuana was being consumed. Such words were usually the pipe dreams of intoxicated philosophers, striving to save the world with their wisdom but never actually doing anything to forward it or thinking that anyone else ever would. Never had such words been spoken or even hinted at by a politician on live Internet. Never had such a thing even been conceived of before.
But Whiting was not finished with her speech. Not by a long shot. As they watched in growing disbelief, she continued to stare into the camera — the effect being that she was looking directly at each one of them — and she continued.
"Independence," she said, obviously savoring the word. "That is the only way that this planet and the people on it will ever be truly free. And I am not talking about just token independence either, where WestHem declares us free but where we are still their puppet, their plaything, influenced by their monetary system and their corporations. I am talking about complete freedom — total freedom from the tyranny of that greedy, corrupt society. That means that all Martian industries, particularly the steel and agricultural industries, will be nationalized and run for the benefit of the Martian people, not for the stockholders of Agricorp and Standard Steel. I am talking about an entirely new constitution and way of life, a government for the people that is run by the people and that benefits the people — all people, not just those with money, not just those with jobs. I am talking about removing the corporate mentality and element completely from our society. And the only way to do this is to be free and to completely restructure our society so that it no longer revolves around the acquisition of wealth."