The Power(47)

FisforFreedom

Guys. I call false flag. A story like this, the OP could make you attack anyone, with minimal evidence. Could be an attempt to provoke reciprocal action just to make us look like the bad guys.





Manintomany

Fuck off. We know these things happen. They’ve happened to us. We need a Year Of Rage, just like they’re saying. Bitches need to see a change. They need to learn what justice means.





UrbanDox933

There will be nowhere to hide. There will be nowhere to run to. There will be no mercy.





Margot



‘Now tell me, Madam Mayor, were you elected Governor of this great state, what would your plans be to tackle the budget deficit?’

There are three points to this. She knows it. She has the first two right off.

‘I have a simple three-point plan, Kent. Number one: trim the overspend on bureaucracy’ – that’s good, that’s the one to hit them with first: ‘Did you know that current Governor Daniel Dandon’s office for environmental oversight spent more than thirty thousand dollars last year on’ – what was it? – ‘bottled water?’ A pause to let that sink in.

‘Number two, cut aid to those who really don’t need it – if your income is over $100,000 a year, this state should not be paying to send your kids to summer camp!’ This is a misrepresentation followed by a gross misrepresentation. This provision would only apply to two thousand families state wide, and most of those have disabled kids, which would exempt them from means testing anyway. Still, it plays well, and mentioning kids reminds people that she has a family, while saying she’ll cut welfare payments makes her seem tough – not just another woman in office with a soft, bleeding heart. Now the third plank. The third.

The third plank.

‘Point three,’ she says, in the hope that the words will find themselves on her tongue if she just keeps talking. ‘Point three,’ she says again a little more firmly. Fuck. She doesn’t have it. Come on. Cutting bureaucracy. Cutting unnecessary welfare payments. And. And. Fuck.

‘Fuck, Alan, I’ve lost point three.’

Alan stretches. Stands up and rolls his neck.

‘Alan. Tell me point three.’

‘If I tell you, you’ll just forget it again onstage.’

‘Fuck you, Alan.’

‘Yeah, you kiss your kids with that mouth?’

‘They can’t tell the fucking difference.’

‘Margot, do you want this?’

‘Do I want this? Would I be going through all of this prep if I didn’t want it?’

Alan sighs. ‘You know it, Margot. Somewhere in there, somewhere inside your head, you have point three of your budget deficit programme. Reach out for me, Margot. Find it.’

She stares at the ceiling. They’re in the dining room, with a podium mocked up next to the television set. Maddy’s little hand-print paintings are framed on the wall; Jocelyn’s already demanded hers be taken down.

‘It’ll be different when we’re actually live,’ she says. ‘I’ll have the adrenaline then. I’ll be more’ – she does jazz hands – ‘peppy.’

‘Yeah, you’ll be so peppy that when you can’t remember the third plank of your budget reform you’ll throw up live onstage. Pep. Super-pep. Puke.’

Bureaucracy. Welfare. And. Bureaucracy … welfare …

‘INFRASTRUCTURE INVESTMENT!’ she yells it out. ‘The current administration has refused to invest in our infrastructure. Our schools are crumbling, our roads are poorly maintained, and we need to spend money to make money. I’ve shown that I can manage large-scale projects; our NorthStar camps for girls have been replicated in twelve states now. They create jobs. They keep girls off the streets. And they’ve given us one of the lowest rates of street violence in the country. Infrastructure investment will make our people confident in a secure future ahead of them.’

That’s it. That was it. There.

‘And isn’t it true, Madam Mayor,’ says Alan, ‘that you have worrying ties with private military corporations?’

Margot smiles. ‘Only if public and private initiatives working hand in hand makes you worried, Kent. NorthStar Systems are one of the most well-respected companies in the world. They run private security for many Heads of State. And they’re an American business, just the kind of business we need to provide jobs for hardworking families. And tell me’ – her smile positively twinkles – ‘would I send my own daughter to a NorthStar day camp if I thought they were anything other than a force for good?’

There’s a slow round of applause in the room. Margot hadn’t even noticed that Jocelyn’s come in by the side door, that she’s been listening.

‘That was great, Mom. Really great.’

Margot laughs. ‘You should have seen me a few minutes ago. I couldn’t even remember the names of all the school districts in the state. I’ve known those off by heart for ten years.’

‘You just need to relax. Come and have a soda.’

Margot glances at Alan.

‘Yeah, yeah. Take ten minutes.’

Jocelyn smiles.

Jos is doing better now. Better than she was, anyway. Two years of NorthStar camp have helped; the girls there have taught her how to tone down the highs. It’s been months since she last blew up a lightbulb, and she’s using a computer again without fear of fritzing it. They haven’t helped her lows, though. There are still days – up to a week sometimes – when she has no power at all. They’ve tried linking it to what she eats, to her sleep, to her periods, to exercise, but they can’t find a pattern. Some days, some weeks, she’s got nothing. Quietly, Margot’s talking to a couple of health-insurance providers about funding some research. The state government would be very grateful for their assistance. Even more so if she becomes Governor.