Smartystan

President Goshen flicked a stylus. He did so with such a controlled rhythm that it seemed like he practiced paradiddles. He didn’t seem nervous but focused. With each tap-tap-tap of the electronic pen, he became more and more engrossed in the inner workings of his campaign.

“Sir, we have to consider the fact that so many people are washing onto these shores, rummaging through forests, and even landing planes. Your debate tonight has to be pristine. You can’t have any flubs or gaffes.”

“What do you take me for, anyway?” Goshen asked. “I’m no gaffe machine. You already knew that,” he said to his staffer Topher Klaskey. He was about a decade younger than Goshen, stocky, but still looked fit. He spoke in a low tone, even and clear.

“That’s just one of the issues they’re going to hit you with during the proceedings.”

“You don’t say….”

“Of course you’re going to have to contend with the ACA and how they are willingly not accepting a meritocracy. Some people in that crowd have hacked off limbs and made themselves blind so that they don’t qualify for advanced positions like surgeons and pilots.”

Goshen sighed. “I just don’t know why someone would not let themselves be great. The ACA may not want to be functioning members of this land, but they’ll sure as hell try to tear down anyone who wants to make a difference here. I just don’t know why.”

“I don’t know either, sir. We do have to regard ourselves as exceptional. That is the key to this whole place,” Klaskey replied. “Also, you’re going to get hit on the economy. While the markets are soaring, there are still pockets of capable people who would like to see their wages raised. Now, I know there is no government minimum wage, but people are screaming to get paid more.”

“That’s easy. I’ll just talk about how CEOs are dedicated to hiring the best candidate for the position. That is also what this country-state is about.”

Klaskey rubbed his hands together. He looked around the opulent room. The sun shone in at just the right angle to splash golden light on the table.

“Sir, I’m just preparing you for what is about to happen. Five other candidates will be vying for your job. Six different political parties, including you, will want the top spot or remain there. I know some say you’re a symbolic figure, but I beg to differ. Just as if you were starting your first day, this is what is happening now. If you want a second term, it is going to have to be on these terms. Vanquish and set your sights on the target of re-election. Have that same spirit you possessed when going into this office. Let that be your lodestar.”

Goshen looked at Klaskey funnily. It was almost like a boxer peering at his cornerman asking him how blows he could throw and to always remember the scorecard and above all else, find a way to not get hit. It spoke of a man who knew he needed a cornerman but still had to fight this all by himself. He’d have to step into the ring amongst louses and degenerates and still go on and see what the Smarties thought of his performance.

“This is all we have, sir. After this debate, there will be no others as you know. I just thought I’d remind you because of the gravity of this very moment.”

A face appeared on the intercom system.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

Goshen opened the door with his voice. In walked a smart-dressed woman with a mauve suit and a complexion close to coal. She smiled.

“Mr. President, I am Dalina Barber. I’m executive vice president of the ACA….”

“I know who you are. You’ve been screened already, come in!”

“Yes, as I was saying, sir, I represent the Average Capabilities Association as the executive officer to Mr. Hector Vergara. We don’t have a political party on the ballot, but we sway heavily with two out of the six different parties.”

“Of course.”

“So, I’d just wanted to say you’re going to meet opposition in this part of the electoral process.”

“Thank you for telling me that. I hadn’t a clue.” His voice dripped with derision.

“You can come see just what we’re working on to get Prissa Beaumont to that coveted position.”

Klaskey raised from his seat and the bulky guards rushed in to escort Miss Barber out of the office.

Goshen stood for a moment like a sea captain rising in the face of a trying sea. Klaskey walked over to his boss and sort of looked him over, he didn’t find that he was shaken.

“Shall we continue?” Klaskey asked.

“Such rude interruptions.”

“Yes, we shall keep going with the idea that we’re going to win this thing. Let the people of this land be the end all and be all of what it means to engage in the democratic process.”

Goshen swiveled in his chair slowly, methodically. He found his stylus again.

“That’s true. We all know how well elections have gone in the past,” his words still appealed to sarcasm.

“Things are different, now. You of all people should know that. That’s the best way to discover how many people will be voting for you in October.”

Goshen changed his attitude. He shook his head. “You know, for some strange reason I thought this would be a cakewalk. I thought I could just stroll in here, people would appreciate genius in whatever field that might be and we’d be able to carry on and flourish. Instead, I get women who come into this building and essentially threaten me. It’s a strange one, this world.”

Klaskey looked at Goshen again. He knew he had to choose his words with expert precision. His mouth hung open slightly. He let loose his thoughts.

“Mr. President, you shall remain president of Smartystan for the simple fact that you know what you’re doing. You’ve demonstrated that. You’ve shown that you’re attuned to protecting individual rights and that’s it.”

“Let that be the tenor for my re-election.” The two men rose from their chairs and headed out of the room.