Smartystan

Crackles from the fire made the room not just sound like warmth but the reason why there existed such sounds motivated Dr. Strong and Beckman. They shared premium cognac in the former’s cozy smoking den. Fat cigars that had been rolled to perfection in Miami and shipped up North now emitted smoke.

“So, you’re traveling with the president now….” Dr. Strong mentioned.

“Yes, doctor, we’re devising a way to best orchestrate the time we’ve been spending looking at charts and figures. We’re going out on the road. To the worst parts of the nation. Well, the worst part is the country. We’re stepping out on reason, though.”

The drinks didn’t need any ice as the refrigerator kept them at a perfect temperature of 75º Fahrenheit. They swished around the brown liquid and the light danced on the glasses.

“You’ve been a friend to President Goshen for decades now. Ever since you both were second lieutenants fresh out of military school.”

“Everybody knows that,” Dr. Strong retorted, chortling lightly.

“Ah, but how many know about your hairstyles?”

“He told you?”

“I do my research, doctor.”

Dr. Strong continued to chuckle and puff on his cigar. “I’ll say, Glenn’s got a good man for him on his team.”

“Thank you. But I wanted to talk to you about expanding the vision of Smartystan to encompass the entirety of what’s left of the United States. We can only hope this time it will work.”

“Ah, yes. The violence in the streets and the blood streaked fields. I remember vividly. That was before Smartystan officially opened for business.”

“Of course. There’s a line between understanding the minds of the populace, which you seem to grasp, but others won’t see it that way.”

“Why?”

“Because most people are irrational, thoughtless, and unable to care for themselves without a proper philosophy. I’ve been looking at data for the past forty years. I’ve calculated that masses of folks constitute a number that goes against reason and truth. They spout all kinds of findings without using specific examples to bolster their arguments.”

Beckman shook his head in agreement. “That’s why we’re going to take measured steps to better understand the power and the might of the American people. We’re not going to hold up our country-state as an example. That would be wrong. We’re going to give people the option of deciding for themselves.”

A synthetic being walked into the room and stopped.

“No, it’s alright.”

“This is Monica,” Dr. Strong said. Monica, this is….”

“Hayden Beckman, political strategist.”

Beckman waved once and smiled.

“So what we were saying about the amount of people who will get it or not. I think you should explain more.” The smoky room, fire, and coolness of the potent potables all coalesced into a wonderful atmosphere for the two men to discuss this sort of business.

“I’d say that if we branch out to the heartland and then hit the Midwest and the West Coast, we will be okay.”

“‘Okay’? Just ‘okay’?” Dr. Covey Strong pushed back. Beckman repositioned himself in the cozy leather chair which also gave off its own aroma.

“Let me rephrase that. This is possible only to say we will have to warm up to them. We will have to go from just okay starting out but then show them that this is possible. That it works.”

“It seems like pragmatism to me, young man. I think you should be able to discover the truth behind why the walls came crumbling down from the corners of justice and decency in this country. I think you’ve got the right idea, you just need to rejigger the way you're approaching it.”

“Right. I can do that. I have the background my….”

“Your two masters say that you're a man of knowledge. But we’re in the real world, son. It’s not the comfy air conditioned classroom anymore. I know you taught for a little while, too.”

“I see, doctor. Education can benefit and hinder all at the same time. Of all the ways that I can improve, it will be about that. The reasoning behind it. The reality and gravity of the situation….I know better now.”

“It’s really nothing. Just be thorough and simple at the same time. If you can strike that balance, you will be alright.”

Beckman puffed from his cigars and let the rings of smoke lift up towards the ceiling. He put a hole in the last one with his cigar.

Dr. Strong looked at the young man. He reckoned that this exchange would be smooth and he felt it was. He looked down at his tray and dumped some of the remnants into the dish. A learned machine came by and straightened up the area.

“I’ll say this,” Dr. Strong announced. “You will be a wise man if you just listen to your boss. Glenn’s gotta way of governing that is special and intricate. He knows how to get into the crux of the situation like finding the center in a cut of Wagyu beef. He’s got it all mapped out in his head. The whole thing. His presidency in the new nation, for sure, but he’s got his mind on being president of the USA one day.”

“Absolutely. That’s what I mean. I’m going to do everything in my power to pave the road to his success. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t accept and choose to correct my mistakes.”

“That’s why he admires you. You get scrappy and dirty just to come up clean and ready to get down in the dirt again. Yet you always have your integrity and your honor. That’s what he respects.”

The fire continued to crackle. When the two men had extinguished their cigars and finished off their cognac, they walked out of the room. Dr. Strong put his arm around Beckman.

“You’re going to do more than just ‘okay.’ You’re going to excel in the chosen field in which you currently find yourself.”

“I appreciate that expression of confidence in me, doctor. It means the world.”

They shook hands and then Beckman left the Strong residence with a bit more wisdom and knowledge than he had bargained for upon his arrival.