Interface (63 page)

Most politicians were soulless tools, windup dolls; but these two
guys, Cozzano and McLane, could more than hold their own in
intellectual combat. This was going to be a hell of a confrontation,
and Dr. Hunter P. Lawrence was just the man to act as ringmaster and lion tamer.

As Dr. Lawrence was engaged in this rather self-satisfying series
of ruminations, the voice of the set direction scratched from his
earplug, "One minute to air." Lawrence set his papers down,
sipped some water, did a phlegm check, walked unhurriedly to
each of the debators and shook their hands warmly and firmly. At
times like this, he had to consciously resist his normal tendency to apply what an overly honest colleague had referred to as his "fish
kiss" handshake.

The theme of "Campaign '96" rose in the earplug, unheard by
the audience, and on the monitors he could see the nifty computer
graphics in which the globe segued into the United States which in
turn segued into the flag which in turn blended into a rather nice
establishing shot of the Decatur Civic Center, still brightly
illuminated by the late evening sun of midsummer. The building
was surrounded by buses and cars. People were streaming into the
entrances. Most of them were students who had been bused in from
local colleges and high schools.

Superimposed over these images were some credits. The logos of
various sponsoring corporations were flashed up as the godlike
voice of an announcer, prerecorded weeks ago in New York,
intoned: "Tonight's debate is brought to you by MacIntyre
Engineering, bringing American technological excellence to the world. Global Omnipresent Delivery Systems, the world leader in
physical communications technology. Pacific Netware, creator of
the industry-leading Calyx computer system. Gale Aerospace,
providing new solutions for a changing world. And the Coover
Fund, investing in America for a prosperous tomorrow.

"Tonight, from Decatur, Illinois, the presidential town forum.
Joining our moderator, Dr. Hunter P. Lawrence, will be
Representative Nimrod T. ("Tip") McLane of California and
Governor William A. Cozzano of Illinois."

Dr. Lawrence was enough of a self-consciously stodgy eccentric
that he had actually armed himself with a gavel. As the voice-over
began, he started to whack it. Audience members moved toward
their seats and the buzzing clouds of aides and well-wishers that had
surrounded the two debaters began to disperse. The noise level
dropped and the house lights came down, leaving the three men down below in pools of halogen light, TV-bright. As backdrops,
they had tall floor-to-ceiling banners - colorized images of turn-of-
the-century politicians: Teddy Roosevelt, William Jennings Bryan,
and William McKinley.

Dr. Lawrence loved this moment, loved the notion that millions of people were watching, loved the fact that, unlike so many other people, he performed without notes or a teleprompter, in short, he
loved his own glibness - what open field running was for Barry
Sanders of the Lions, extemporaneous and clever speech was for the
professor. It was his chance to go and say "in your face" to the
tongue-tied masses. It was as good as the first fuck with a new
graduate student.

"I will be blunt: this country is on the verge of disaster."

That was good; that shut them up. Dr. Lawrence cleared his
throat unnecessarily and took another sip of water.

"This may be our last free presidential election. I make this
alarming statement for the following reasons.

"Our national debt has now reached the level of ten trillion
dollars, the surest sign of a society in disequilibrium, even free-fall.

"Our political leaders in the past few decades have shown no
ability to address the problems facing our aging, failing democracy.

"Our federal leadership works only in response to pollsters and spin doctors; the sheer mediocrity at the executive, legislative, and judicial levels has driven away the most talented civil servants.

"The only sign of life is at the level of state government, and
these officials are burdened to the point of paralysis by the albatross
of Washington.

"The values that made this country what it once was - hard work
and honesty, or as Emerson put it, 'self-reliance' - have, like our
finances, gone to hell."

Dr. Lawrence paused to allow his words to sink in. "Are any of
you in this audience convinced that the picture is anything but
bleak for the future? I am sorry to be so blunt, but a lifetime of study
of and love for this country compels me to set the stage for this debate with these thoughts.

"One century ago, a candidate looking back on events of the last decade would have seen feverish activity in the realms of tech
nology, art, and politics. During that period, men with names such as Diesel, Benz, and Ford had been hard at work perfecting a new device called the automobile. The first telephone switchboard had
been installed, the first subway system was under construction in Boston, and Thomas Edison had opened something called a kinetoscope
parlor - the first movie theater. The gramophone, the rocket engine, the radio, and X rays had all just been invented. And, as if
these innovations were not important enough, the first professional
football game had been played in Latrobe, Pennsylvania."

A murmur ran through the crowd and gradually bloomed into
laughter. Cozzano and Dr. Lawrence exchange smiles. This was typical for Dr. Lawrence: a subtle jibe that could have been inter
preted as either a dig or a compliment. Cozzano chose to treat it as the latter.

"But despite this rapid technological progress, the political
picture a hundred years ago was far from rosy. Foreign interests
controlled our economy; an unfeeling business class brutally
exploited the people of the United States; the political structure of
this country was shot through with the most shocking corruption
from top to bottom; divisiveness characterized the relationship
between sections of this country, and between races; foreigners
newly arriving to work in our country suffered attack simply for
wanting to come to this blessed land to improve themselves.
Beginning in the late 1880s the poorest farmers and workers in the
West and South united to form the Populist movement. They
failed to reach the middle classes and the cities; their message
became shrill. But out of that movement came the Progressive
movement, one of whose most eloquent spokesmen was William Jennings Bryan, who spoke in this town a century or so ago. His
message was simple: government is for the people. The effect was profound. The Progressive movement spread across this part of the
country with the speed and fury of a prairie fire. Progressivism blended the skills of the best of this country with the ambitions of the middle 70 percent - the middle classes - to remake the system
and allow this country to endure through the twentieth century.

"We need a new populism and a new progressivism and a new
way to remake the system so that the values of honesty and hard
work can once again have a nurturing environment in which to
grow, and self-reliance can once again take its place.

"Tonight we will discuss these problems from many different
directions. But I would like to begin by discussing a concrete issue:
the trade imbalance.

"It is January of next year and you have just taken the oath of office. The economy remains uncertain. It seems as though the
Japanese lead in the automotive sector has become insurmountable.
How do you, as President, tackle that problem? Representative
McLane?"

37

Tip McLane had already adopted his characteristic pose,
leaning forward toward the camera, head down, staring intently
into the lens. As soon as the red light came on, he unloaded: "First of all, Dr. Lawrence, let me say that I would like to thank you, and
the people of Decatur, for the opportunity to come here and
participate in this forum."

A few hundred yards away, Cy Ogle was crowing. He had
thrown his head back and broken into triumphant, falsetto
laughter. All around him the Eye of Cy had gone into various
shades of blue. It had happened the moment the phrase "first of all"
escaped from Tip McLane's lips.

"Lemme just jot that one down," Ogle said, making a note. "Never begin with 'first of all.'"

Ogle was also happy because only three of the screens were
blank. They were getting 97 percent compliance. Back in Falls
Church, Virginia, three ropers were on the phones, trying to get through to the three delinquent members of the PIPER 100. Over
the next few minutes, two more screens came to life.

Almost thirty seconds had gone by, and Tip McLane still hadn't
begun to answer the question: ". . . people who say that presidential
campaigns are all style over substance obviously haven't been
paying attention to fine, substantial programs like the one that we
are participating in tonight."

"Thank you, Tip," Ogle said, "I did my very best."

"Now, as far as the auto industry. There are a lot of so-called
conservatives who would disagree with me on this and say that we
should just let the Japanese come in and walk all over us. That
somehow, this constitutes free trade. Well, it's not free trade. It's an
economic Pearl Harbor, is what it is. And I'll be damned if I'm
going to stand by and let it happen to American on my watch. And
that is why, when I am President-"

"-thank you, Congressman McLane, your time has expired,"
Dr. Lawrence said, amused but firm.

"-we should deal with this in a tough, but not protectionist
way-"

"-thank you, Congressman McLane."

"-and even out this trade balance-"

"-your time has expired and we must now move on to
Governor Cozzano."

The verbal duel between Representative McLane and Dr.
Lawrence petered out gradually. By that point, the screens were
largely bluish and reddish. "Well, that just makes them all look like
assholes," Ogle said. "I can't tell if they're reacting to McLane or
Lawrence." He turned and caught Aaron's eye. "Can you give me a breakdown by economic bracket?"

Aaron grabbed the mouse attached to his Calyx workstation and
chose a couple of items from menus. A graphic flashed up on his
screen and he bounced a copy of it to one of Ogle's screens.

"What this tells me is that everyone dislikes Tip McLane just about equally," Ogle said.

"That's about right. Which is interesting, coming from the
upper income brackets."

"Yeah," Ogle said. He held one index finger up in the air. "I am
about to make a prediction," he said.

"Shoot," Aaron said.

"I predict that we are going to see a whole lot more data to the effect that people think Tip McLane is too rough. Too coarse to
dance with the Queen of England."

The Eye of Cy grew brighter and took on a decidedly greenish
tinge. "Hot damn," Ogle said. "Now just hold it, baby, don't
squander this." As he spoke, he was pressing a couple of buttons on
the pad that he used to communicate with Cozzano.

Cozzano looked great on TV. The stroke had aged him
somewhat. He had lost some weight without becoming gaunt. It had brought out his features, which were worth bringing out. He
had a serious, thoughtful, rock-solid look about him now. He
could probably win a lot of votes simply by doing what he was
doing now: sitting in front of a camera and not saying anything.

This was new behaviour for him. Cozzano loved to argue. He
loved competition in any form. He had always been the first to
show up for football practice. Whenever he appeared in one of
these debates he always leapt into the fray as soon as his turn came
up.

But you didn't become president by seeming eager. Ogle under
stood this perfectly well, and so, as soon as Cozzano's name came
up, he began to stroke that keyboard, sending calm, solid, quite
images into Cozzano's brain. Cozzano just sat there, quite, solid,
contemplative. The longer he sat there, the brighter, and greener, the Eye of Cy became.