The president winced. “It’s just, well, I’ve heard that sort of talk for years. You know, cut the debt or everything will go into the toilet.”
Hooper focused his attention on Ben. “There must be a way out of this.”
Actually, there is one option available to us.” Ben stared at the president. “But our window to implement it is exceedingly short, which is why I wanted to meet with you tonight instead of tomorrow.”
“How short?” the president asked.
“Between this most recent riot and Secretary Horst’s untimely death, I believe there’s a considerable chance we’ll see another major stock market collapse on Monday. Such an event will undoubtedly drive the economy past the point of no-return.”
“So, before Monday.” The president exhaled. “What do you propose?”
“Immediate tax increases or cuts. And not cuts in spending growth. Actual, deep cuts. And not just to ordinary government programs. To make this work, we need to go after the big stuff. The stuff we keep off the books. Primarily, Medicare and Social Security.”
“So, we raise taxes to the roof or we cut benefits people depend upon to live.” President Walters shook his head. “Americans will never accept either of those. They’ll string me up from a flagpole first.”
Ben arched an eyebrow.
The president sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet with my cabinet and we’ll come up with a plan to present to Congress.”
“Perhaps you didn’t fully understand me, Mr. President. You don’t have time to work through the normal channels. Either you fix the debt problem or face stagflation.”
President Walters adopted his most grave visage. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Ben?”
Ben nodded.
“Fine.” The president rubbed his temples. “I’ll put my best people on it. We’ll draw up a series of executive orders to create new taxes and implement staged spending cuts to all major programs, say, over a ten-year period. That should—”
“I’m afraid that’s not enough, sir.”
The president blinked. “Why not?”
“We need to cut the debt now, not ten years into the future.”
The president’s jaw dropped. “So, you want me to slash the deficit in a single day?”
“Yes, but that’s not all, sir. You need to make the reduction permanent.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t stop Congress from spending money. And I sure as hell can’t stop my predecessors from ramping up the debt again.”
“Actually, you can. Obviously, the issue is one of credibility. Simply put, the promise of a politician means nothing in today’s world. So, it’s not enough to tell people you’re going to cut the deficit in half. You need to put teeth to it. There’s a way we can do that.” Ben hesitated. “Admittedly, it’s unconventional. Way outside the box. No one will even see it coming.”
“That’s what I like about you,” the president said. “You’re always thinking ahead.”
Ben managed a small grin. “Actually, sir, the roots for this plan aren’t ahead of us… they lie in the past.”
Chapter 25
It’s my birthday and I’m eleven years old today.
I’m walking down the sidewalk, weaving past obstacles and munching on an ice cream cone. Chocolate with sliced-up peanut butter cups, my absolute favorite. The perfect way to celebrate such a momentous day.
The sun beats down on my face, causing little beads of sweat to trickle down my cheeks. I feel the sun’s heat, its energy. But I barely notice it. No, finishing this ice cream cone without losing a single drip is all that matters to me.
Birds chirp overhead, singing melodic tunes for all to hear. Taxis whip past me at a high rate of speed. A never-ending cascade of odors — trash, flowers, bagels, body odor, coffee, and more trash — assaults my nostrils. I’m nearly oblivious to it all. It’s nothing new, just everyday life in Manhattan.
Some people shoot odd looks in my direction. As if I shouldn’t be out by myself. Dad says to pay such people no mind. He calls them busybodies and says he walked everywhere when he was my age. I’m fine with that. I like walking, being out in the hustle and bustle. Television can’t compare to the vibrancy of city life.
A soft buzz, electric and frantic, fills the air. I lift my head in mid-lick. At first, I see nothing special, just people talking, walking, and gesturing. Just people being people. But this is different. Something is about to happen.
Glass shatters.
Time slows down for me. I hear the screams, shouts, slammed brakes, and skidding tires. I see people lifting their faces in unison, their eyes flicking from side to side. I feel the frenzied electricity in the air, like wild bolts of lightning shooting overhead.
My chin lifts skyward. The sun is blazing now, hot enough to melt my face. A drip of chocolate ice cream slides off the cone and wets my hand.
What’s going on? What is everyone looking at? Wait… wait a second. Is that…? No, no. Please, God, no.
I see it now. I see the building, currently under construction, just two blocks away. It’s one of Dad’s buildings. In fact, it’s where I’m supposed to meet him. I see something else, too. Something falling from a great height.
The object strikes the sidewalk with a sickening splat. And then I’m running into the street, dodging cars and ignoring honks and angry shouts.
Others are moving forward, all in the same direction. And soon, I find myself surrounded by throngs of pressing people. They’re everywhere and the buzz of the crowd is that something really bad has just happened.
I slink, push, and crawl my way forward. The crowd is hushed now and all I can hear is soft breathing and quiet murmurs.
And then I see him. I see his cold, lifeless body. He lies on the sidewalk, face smashed and leg cocked at a gag-inducing angle.
A few people surround him. They’re going through the motions of checking his pulse and begging someone to call 911. But even I know it’s too late. Nothing can be done. Not now. Not ever.
I stumble forward, fall to my knees. Behind me, people are whispering that the man jumped to his death.
One of the helpers touches my shoulder as if to pull me away from this tragic vision of life’s fragility. But instead, I clutch the man’s crumpled body and begin to sob. My voice croaks and I utter three words that send a collective shiver though the crowd.
“Why, Dad? Why?”
Chapter 26
My soul was crushed. Just… crushed. I didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Dad commit suicide on my eleventh birthday. But this, well, this was too horrible to contemplate.
The video ended and I stared at the blank screen for a moment, consumed by darkness.
“I…” Graham’s voice was quiet, reverent. “I can’t…”
As his voice trailed off into silence, my mind turned inward. My heart started to ache. She’d been everything to me. How could I possibly go on without her?
The screen blinked. And when it came back to life, it was empty. All of Malware’s texts were gone. Same with the videos. Erased, presumably, from existence.
A loud click sounded out. More clicks followed. An electric hum started up, like a swarm of mechanical bees. Then bright light appeared, bursting through the broken walls and illuminating the dark vault.