“We can get all that in our own homes,” Arrant groused, “through virtual reality.”
“Without having to buy a ticket from you, or anyone else,” Cole added.
“Yes, that’s true,” Sam replied, sweetly reasonable. “But home entertainment doesn’t provide the thrill of the crowd, the amplified excitement of being together with thousands of other people, the sheer exhilaration of interacting with other people.”
Sam spread his stubby arms as wide as they would go. “Study after study has shown that home entertainment doesn’t compare in emotional impact with theater performances. Let me show…”
And on he talked, on and on and on. He gave a one-man performance that I’ve never seen equaled in its sheer bravado, vigor, and elan. The board members sat mesmerized by Sam’s leather-lunged presentation. He didn’t use slides or videos or VR simulations. He just talked. And talked. Even grouchy old Arrant had stars in his eyes before long. Hell, Sam pretty nearly had me convinced.
Bonnie McDougal brought us all down to earth. “So the essence of your proposal, Mr. Gunn, is to establish a hologrammic facility with full VR capability?”
Sam teetered for a moment like a man who’d just stopped himself from falling over a cliff. “Yes, Madam Chairperson,” he said at last. “That’s putting it very succinctly.”
McDougal smiled brightly at him. “Thank you for your presentation, Mr. Gunn. And it’s Miss Chairperson.”
Sam’s face lit up.
“Now then,” McDougal said, glancing at the display screen built into the tabletop before her, “it’s your turn, Mr. Hornsby.”
Hornsby had slides and videos aplenty. The developers he represented, Woodruff and Dorril, wanted to build a three-hundred-unit condo complex on the ground in question, complete with three swimming pools, tennis courts, and a running track for joggers. There were no structures higher than four storeys in the entire New Chicago habitat, but Hornsby extolled the high-rise approach as being environmentally friendly.
“If you put three hundred condo units into four-storey buildings, it would cover the entire parcel and even spill over into the adjacent properties.”
Pete Nostrum found this amusing. Looking down the table to fellow board member Morris, Nostrum said loudly, “Hey, you own property abutting this parcel, don’t you Johnny? What’s this gonna do to your property’s value?”
Morris curled his lip at the laughing Nostrum.
McDougal said softly, “Mr. Hornsby, the issue here is not how we house three hundred additional families. New Chicago is not actively seeking more population.”
“But you should, Madam Chairperson,” Hornsby said earnestly, sweat trickling down his fat cheeks. “You must! A community must grow or wither! There’s no third choice.”
McDougal sighed. Cole snapped, “That’s flatland thinking, Mr. Hornsby. We’re quite content with a stable population here.”
“Maybe you are,” said Morris, “but I tend to agree with Mr. Hornsby. A little growth would be beneficial.”
“A little growth? Three hundred new families?”
“A drop in the bucket.”
Arrant spoke up. “A foot in the door, you mean. If we let this outfit build new housing, how can we deny the same opportunity to other builders?”
“I don’t see it as a precedent,” said Morris.
“Of course you don’t….”
“Gentlemen,” said McDougal, “Mr. Christopher is waiting to make his proposal.”
“Why don’t we break for lunch first?” Arrant suggested.
“Let’s hear out Mr. Christopher before lunch,” McDougal said, pleasant but firm.
I got to my feet, feeling nervous. “Uh … this won’t take long. What I’d like to do with the parcel is … well, leave it alone. In perpetuity.”
“Leave it alone?” Morris was shocked.
“Undeveloped?” Arrant asked.
“Forever?” Barney Wilhelm, sitting at the other end of the table, stared at me in disbelief.
“Yessir…. uh, sirs. And lady. Leave it alone forever. Zone it as a public playground in perpetuity.”
“We have plenty of public parks in New Chicago.”
“Lots of green space.”
“That’s true,” I admitted, “but there’s no open place where kids can play—”
“What do you mean?” Cole snapped. “There’s the Little League baseball field, the Hallas football field—”
“Olympic Stadium,” Nostrum jumped in, “the soccer field, tennis courts, four golf courses. And not one of them permits bonfires!”
“I know all that,” I said. “But all those fields are for organized sports. You have to be a member of a team. They all have strict rules about who can play on them, and at what time.”
“So what do you want?” Wilhelm asked.
“Just a playground. No regulations. Open all the time to any kids who want to have a catch, or play a pickup game, or just run around and have fun.”
“No regulations?”
“No set hours of operation?”
“Just anybody could come in and play, whenever they felt like it?”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m asking for.”
I could tell from their faces that they thought I was crazy. As I sat down, Hornsby smirked at me, looking superior. But Sam looked thoughtful.
He leaned toward me and whispered, “They’d never pick me for a team when I was a kid. I always had to be the batboy.”
Bonnie McDougal looked up and down the table at her fellow Zoning Board members and said, “Shall we vote on the three proposals now, gentlemen? That would finish today’s agenda and we could take the rest of the day off.”
They voted, using the keyboards built into the table before each seat. The tally came up on McDougal’s screen, flush with the tabletop.
I knew my proposal didn’t have a chance. It was between Sam and Hornsby, and with Sam s reputation, I figured Hornsby’s high-rise condo complex was a shoo-in.
I was wrong.
McDougal blinked several times at her screen, then looked up at us and announced, “We have a tie. Two votes for each applicant. We’ll have to reconvene after lunch and work this out.”
We got up and left the meeting room. I was surprised, but not very hopeful. After all, I only got two votes out of six. I had nothing to offer that would sway the other four. They’d ditch me after lunch, when they got down to the serious wheeling and dealing.
Sam was at my elbow as we walked out into the sunlight. “Sonofabitch,” he muttered. “I expected better.”
“Did you?” I said, heading for the sandwich joint on the corner of the courthouse square.
Sam kept stride with me, despite my longer legs. “Yeah. I bought Arrant and Cole. I know Hornsby’s bought Morris and Wilhelm.”
“Bought?” I was aghast. “You mean bribed?”
Sam grinned up at me, a freckled and crafty Huck Finn. “Don’t look so shocked, Straight Arrow. Happens all the time.”
“But.. . bribery? In New Chicago?”
With a laugh, Sam told me, “You’re missing the point. McDougal and Nostrum voted for you. Why? What’re they after?”
“Maybe they’re honest,” I said.
“McDougal, maybe,” Sam replied. “Now, if I could figure out a way to turn Nostrum around…” Sam snapped his fingers. “Virtual bonfires! That’d get him!”
I strode away from him and had my lunch alone.
It only took five minutes to gobble down a sandwich. The Zoning Board wasn’t set to reconvene for another hour and a half. Inevitably, I drifted over to the open lot that we were debating over. A gaggle of teenagers were playing baseball on the threadbare grass. Younger kids were flying kites over in what passed for center field. They were laughing, running, calling back and forth to one another. Having a good time, relaxed, with no regimentation, no pressure to win or set a new record.