"Thank you, Steve," Smith said gratefully. He made a quick check of the other channels, the ones owned by ICS and WIV and found that they had been cut as well. Even better. "Computer," he told the terminal. "Switch broadcast channel on screen two to MarsGroup primary."
The computer had been programmed not to reply to commands such as that, just to do it. The screen flicked over and he was looking at Laura Whiting once again, still in the process of destroying her career and possibly her life.
"This planet is ours, people," she told her audience. "We, the Martians, are the ones who were born here, that have lived our lives here, that love this planet. We are the ones that plant and harvest the food that Agricorp and the others sell for profit all over the solar system. We are the ones that built the structures that we live in with our own hands. We are the ones who set off generations ago to colonize this planet and make a new home for ourselves. And we are the ones who are being held down by the people of Earth who claim ownership of everything that we do. Ask yourselves, people, what do the Earthlings do for us? What do they do? They sit in their high-rise offices and count the money that they make from our sweat and toil. They sit up there and make decisions that affect the lives of all of us. A fingerprint on a computer screen and they've just signed an order that puts thousands out of a job. Another print on another screen and they've just bribed a politician who otherwise might have made your lives a little easier. This has got to stop. It has to end and we have to be able to control our own fates."
"Dianne Nguyen coming online," the computer spoke up just as Whiting was gearing up for another rant. The volume was automatically turned down on the broadcast so that the communications terminal could be heard.
Nguyen's face appeared a moment later on his screen. It was a pleasantly feminine face of Southeast Asian descent, very youthful, although its owner was actually in her late forties. Nguyen, Smith knew, had once worked for InfoServe as a low-level manager. Her climb up the ladder had been stopped short in her early days because of her Martian birth and education, both of which were considered inferior in Earthling corporate circles. Still, like most Martians, Nguyen was eerily clever at certain things and, after quitting InfoServe, had been one of the prime movers and investors to get the joke that was MarsGroup rolling in the early days. "What can I do for you, Smith?" she asked now as she answered her call. Her expression was serious but it seemed as if she was hiding a smile.
"Dianne," Smith said warmly, as if she were his closest acquaintance, as if he hadn't worked madly over the years to strangle her company and its advertising contracts. "How are you this evening?"
Nguyen wasn't buying it however. "Let's cut the bullshit," she said with typical Martian crudity. "I assume you're calling about the inauguration speech."
He took a second to gather himself. "Why yes, that is why I'm calling," he said at last. "It seems that Ms. Whiting is... well... having a bit of a nervous breakdown up there. She is saying some very embarrassing things. Things that she will likely regret later."
"She sounds pretty much in her right mind to me," Nguyen opined. "I notice that the three bigs have all cut their feed. I presume you're calling to ask me to do the same?"
"In the interests of décor," he said. "Yes, I'm asking if you will save this poor woman some later misery. Obviously the Martian people do not need to hear the kind of drivel she is spouting up there. It would be best for all concerned if their access to the feed were to be cut completely off."
"Forget it," Nguyen told him. "We're sticking live with her. She's beautiful up there. She's saying things that should've been said along time ago."
"She's committing libel and slander," Smith said, still speaking reasonably — as one colleague did to another. "It would be a breach of ethics to stay online with her as she commits this crime. As a media provider there is a professional obligation not to broadcast such inflammations to the public. In some cases I could see how you would even be held accountable for not..."
"Oh please," Nguyen interrupted, rolling her eyes at him. "You are talking to me about ethics? About libel and slander? You who have directed all of your subsidiaries not to advertise with me, who have forbidden your workers to even subscribe to my service? You can just take yourself a nice, high, flying fuck at Phobos, Smith. The feed remains live and any subsequent speeches by Whiting will be carried live as well."
"I'm warning you, Nguyen," Smith said, raising his voice now. "If you don't..."
"Bye now," she said, bringing her hand into the camera's range long enough to offer a small, contemptuous wave. With that, she went offline, her image flickering away.
"Goddamn greenie bitch," Smith said to the communications screen. He tried to several more times to get her back but only received her answering screen, which he left angry messages on.
With nothing else to do at the moment, he turned the volume back up and continued to watch Laura Whiting's speech.
Laura was elated as she spoke into the microphones, as she looked at the sea of shocked faces staring up at her from the audience chambers. No matter what else came of this night, it felt glorious to finally throw aside the mask of proper politician that she had worn for so many years now. She felt as liberated as she hoped to make her planet.
Now that she had everybody's attention, now that she had explained what she hoped to do with her term and why she thought it needed to be done, she moved into the next phase of her speech: the phase in which she tried to prevent her removal before her work was done.
"I have made a lot of new enemies in the last five minutes," she told the planet. "I like to think that I have made some new friends among the Martian people, but you can bet your ass that the wheels of my removal are already starting to turn at this very moment. My guess is that strings have already been pulled by the movers and shakers of this world and this broadcast has been cut off by all of the so called 'big three' Internet providers. If my words were broadcast for more than three minutes, it would surprise me indeed.
"But I would also be surprised if MarsGroup Internet, the only Martian based media, followed suit with the big three. My guess, my hope, is that the one media provider with any sort of integrity is continuing to broadcast my words to you all. That is my hope because you really need to hear what I have to say next. You really need to hear how they are going to try to hamstring my proposals for this planet before they even get started."
She looked at the reserved seating, where the legislature members all sat, her eyes tracking from face to face. Most of them looked away when her gaze fell upon them. "You in the legislature," she said. "You have the power to impeach me from this office. It is written into the planetary constitution and it is your duty to do so if I commit abuses of power or crimes against the people. In this instance however, I have done neither. I have committed no offense against them that you can legally impeach me for. Nevertheless, you will be asked to open an investigation into my actions, probably shortly after you leave the chairs you are sitting in. Representatives of whoever your sponsors are will contact you, and they will tell you to begin an investigation and they will tell you to vote to impeach me. And since you are all bought people — bought and paid for in campaign contributions and thinly veiled bribes offered by lobbyists for Agricorp and MarsTrans and InfoServe and a dozen others — you will be expected to do as you are told and make me go away. That is the way this great political system works, that is the way our planetary government and our federal government works. That is why we vote to tax John Carlton of Eden or Barb Jones of New Pittsburgh but to cut taxes for Agricorp or InfoServe. That is the way things are."