2066 Election Day Read online

  Larkin understood. He nodded.

  “Exactly. Eight specialists,” Reddington said. “General Vines will take the Military; Burden, Psychology; Wachsmuth, Economics; and so on. You, of course, will take the Political Science. We can only hope that each man will come out with a high enough score in his own field so that the combined scores of our mythical ‘candidate’ will be enough to qualify him. Do you follow me?”

  Larkin nodded dazedly. “I think so. But - ”

  “It should work. It has to work.”

  “Yes,” Larkin murmured, “I can see that. But who, who will actually wind up - ”

  “As president?” Reddington smiled very slightly and stood up.

  “That was the most difficult question of all. At first we thought there was no solution. Because a president must be so many things - consider. A president blossoms instantaneously, from nonentity, into the most important job on earth. Every magazine, every newspaper in the country immediately goes to work on his background, digs out his life story, anecdotes, savings, and so on. Even a very strong fraud would never survive it. So the first problem was believability. The new president must be absolutely believable. He must be a man of obvious character, of obvious intelligence, but more than that, his former life must fit the facts: he must have had both the time and the personality to prepare himself for the office.

  “And you see immediately what all that means. Most businessmen are out. Their lives have been too social, they wouldn’t have had the time. For the same reason all government and military personnel are also out, and we need hardly say that anyone from the Bureau of Elections would be immediately suspect. No. You see the problem. For a while we thought that the time was too short, the risk too great. But then the only solution, the only possible chance, finally occurred to us.

  “The only believable person would be - a professor. Someone whose life has been serious but unhurried, devoted to learning but at the same time isolated. The only really believable person. And not a scientist, you understand, for a man like that would be much too overbalanced in one direction for our purpose. No, simply a professor, preferably in a field like Political Science, a man whose sole job for many years has been teaching, who can claim to have studied in his spare time, his summers - never really expected to pass the tests and all that, a humble man, you see - ”

  “Political Science,” Larkin said.

  Reddington watched him. The other men began to close in on him.

  “Yes,” Reddington said gently. “Now do you see? It is our only hope. Your name was suggested by several sources, you are young enough, your reputation is well known. We think that you would be believable. And now that I’ve seen you” - he looked around slowly - ”I for one am willing to risk it. Gentlemen, what do you say?”

  Larkin, speechless, sat listening in mounting shock while the men agreed solemnly, one by one. In the enormity of the moment he could not think at all. Dimly, he heard Reddington.

  “I know. But, Doctor, there is no time. The Polls close at eight. It is now almost seven.”

  Larkin closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands. Above him, Reddington went on inevitably.

  “All right. You are thinking of what happens after. Even if we pull this off and you are accepted without question, what then? Well, it will simply be the old system all over again. You will be at least no worse off than presidents before SAM. Better even, because if worse comes to worst, there is always SAM. You can feed all the bad ones to him. You will have the advice of the cabinet, of the military staff. We will help you in every way we can, some of us will sit with you on all conferences. And you know more about this than most of us, you have studied government all your life.

  “But all this, what comes later, is not important. Not now. If we can get through tomorrow, the next few days, all the rest will work itself out. Eventually we can get around to altering SAM. But we must have a president in the morning. You are our only hope. You can do it. We all know you can do it. At any rate there is no other way, no time. Doctor,” he reached out and laid his hand on Larkin’s shoulder, “shall we go to the Polls?”

  It passed, as most great moments in a man’s life do, with Larkin not fully understanding what was happening to him. Later he would look back to this night and realize the enormity of the decision he had made, the doubts, the sleeplessness, the responsibility and agony toward which he moved. But in that moment he thought nothing at all. Except that it was Larkin’s country, Larkin’s America. And Reddington was right. There was nothing else to do. He stood up.

  They went to the Polls.

  * * * *

  At 9:30 that evening, sitting alone with Reddington back at the apartment, Larkin looked at the face of the announcer on the television screen, and heard himself pronounced President-elect of the United States.

  Reddington wilted in front of the screen. For a while neither man moved. They had come home alone, just as they had gone into the Polls one by one in the hope of arousing no comment. Now they sat in silence until Reddington turned off the set. He stood up and straightened his shoulders before turning to Larkin. He stretched out his hand.

  “Well, may God help us,” he breathed, “we did it.”

  Larkin took his hand. He felt suddenly weak. He sat down again, but already he could hear the phone ringing in the outer hall. Reddington smiled.

  “Only a few of my closest friends are supposed to know about that phone. But every time anything big comes up - ” He shrugged. “Well,” he said, still smiling, “let’s see how it works.”

  He picked up the phone and with it an entirely different manner. He became amazingly light and cheerful, as if he was feeling nothing more than the normal political goodwill.

  “Know him? Of course I know him. Had my eye on the guy for months. Really nice guy, wait’ll you meet him… yup, college professor, Political Science, written a couple of books… must know a hell of a lot more than Poli Sci, though. Probably been knocking himself out in his spare time. But those teachers, you know how it is, they don’t get any pay, but all the spare time in the world… Married? No, not that I know of - ”

  Larkin noticed with wry admiration how carefully Reddington had slipped in that bit about spare time, without seeming to be making an explanation. He thought wearily to himself, I hope that I don’t have to do am’ talking myself. I’ll have to do a lot of listening before I can chance any talking.

  In a few moments Reddington put down the phone and came back. He had on his hat and coat.

  “Had to answer a few,” he said briefly, “make it seem natural. But you better get dressed.”

  “Dressed? Why?”

  “Have you forgotten?” Reddington smiled patiently. “You’re due at the White House. The Secret Service is already tearing the town apart looking for vou. We were supposed to alert them. Oh, by the saints, I hope that wasn’t too bad a slip.”

  He pursed his mouth worriedly while Larkin, still dazed, got into his coat. It was beginning now. It had already begun. He was tired but it did not matter. That he was tired would probably never matter again. Fie took a deep breath. Like Reddington, he straightened his shoulders.

  The Secret Service picked them up halfway across town. That they knew where he was, who he was, amazed him and worried Reddington. They went through the gates of the White House and drove up before the door. It was opened for him as he put out his hand, he stepped back in a reflex action, from the sudden blinding flares of the photographer’s flashbulbs. Reddington behind him took him firmly by the arm. Larkin went with him gratefully, unable to see, unable to hear anything but the roar of the crowd from behind the gates and the shouted questions of the reporters.

  Inside the great front doors it was suddenly peaceful again, very quiet and pleasantly dark. He took off his hat instinctively. Luckily he had been here before, he recognized the lovely hall and felt not awed but at home. He was introduced quickly to several people whose names made no impression on him. A woman smiled. He made an effort
to smile back. Reddington took him by the arm again and led him away. There were people all around him, but they were quiet and hung back. He saw the respect on their faces. It sobered him, quickened his mind.

  “The President’s in the Lincoln Room,” Reddington whispered. “He wants to see you. How do you feel?”

  “All right.”

  “Listen.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re doing beautifully. Keep just that look on your face.”

  “I’m not trying to keep it there.”

  “You aren’t?” Reddington looked at him. “Good. Very good.” He paused and looked again at Larkin. Then he smiled.

  “It’s done it. I thought it would but I wasn’t sure. But it does it every time. A man comes in here, no matter what he was before, no matter what he is when he goes out, but he feels it. Don’t you feel it?”

  “Yes. It’s like - ”

  “What?”

  “It’s like… when you’re in here… you’re responsible.”

  Reddington said nothing. But Larkin felt a warm pressure on his arm.

  They paused at the door of the Lincoln Room. Two Secret Service men, standing by the door, opened it respectfully. They went on in, leaving the others outside.

  Larkin looked across the room to the great, immortal bed. He felt suddenly very small, very tender. He crossed the soft carpet and looked down at the old man.

  “Hi,” the old man said. Larkin was startled, but he looked down at the broad weakly smiling face, saw the famous white hair and the still-twinkling eyes, and found himself smiling in return.

  “Mr. President,” Larkin said.

  “I hear your name is Larkin.” The old man’s voice was surprisingly strong, but as he spoke now Larkin could see that the left side of his face was paralyzed. “Good name for a president. Indicates a certain sense of humor. Need a sense of humor. Reddington, how’d it go?”

  “Good as can be expected, sir.” He glanced briefly at Larkin. “The President knows. Wouldn’t have done it without his okay. Now that I think of it, it was probably he who put the Secret Service on us.”

  “You’re doggone right,” the old man said. “They may bother the by-jingo out of you, but those boys are necessary. And also, if I hadn’t let them know we knew Larkin was material - ” He stopped abruptly and closed his eves, took a deep breath. After a moment he said: “Mr. Larkin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I have one or two comments. You mind?”

  “Of course not, sir.”

  “I couldn’t solve it. I just… didn’t have time. There were so many other things to do.” He stopped and again closed his eyes. “But it will be up to you, son. The presidency… must be preserved. What they’ll start telling you now is that there’s only one wav out, let SAM handle it. Reddington, too,” the old man opened his eves and gazed sadly at Reddington, “he’ll tell you the same thing, but don’t you believe it.

  “Sure, SAM knows all the answers. Ask him a question on anything, on levels of parity tax rates, on anything. And right quick SAM will compute you out an answer. So that’s what they’ll try to do, they’ll tell you to take it easy and let SAM do it.

  “Well, all right, up to a certain point. But, Mr. Larkin, understand this. SAM is like a book. Like a book, he knows the answers. But only those answers we’ve already found out. We gave SAM those answers. A machine is not creative, neither is a book. Both are only the product of creative minds. Sure, SAM could hold the country together. But growth, man, there’d be no more growth! No new ideas, new solutions, change, progress, development! And America must grow, must progress - ”

  He stopped, exhausted. Reddington bowed his head. Larkin remained idly calm. He felt a remarkable clarity in his head.

  “But, Mr. President,” he said slowly, “if the office is too much for one man, then all we can do is cut down on his powers - ”

  “Ah,” the old man said faintly, “there’s the rub. Cut down on what? If I sign a tax bill, I must know enough about taxes to be certain that the bill is the right one. If I endorse a police action, I must be certain that the strategy involved is militarily sound. If I consider farm prices… you see, you see, what will you cut? The office is responsible for its acts. It must remain responsible. You cannot take just someone else’s word for things like that, you must make your own decisions. Already we sign things we know nothing about, bills for this, bills for that, on somebody’s word.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  The old man cocked an eye toward Larkin, smiled once more with half his mouth, anciently worn, only hours from death, an old, old man with his work not done, never to be done.

  “Son, come here. Take my hand. Can’t lift it myself.”

  Larkin came forward, knelt by the side of the bed. He took the cold hand, now gaunt and almost translucent, and held it gently.

  “Mr. Larkin,” the President said. “God be with you, boy. Do what you can. Delegate authority. Maybe cut the term in half. But keep us human, please, keep us growing, keep us alive.” His voice faltered, his eyes closed. “I’m very tired. God be with you.”

  Larkin laid the hand gently on the bed coyer. He stood for a long moment looking down. Then he turned with Reddington and left the room.

  Outside, he waited until they were past the Secret Service men and then turned to Reddington.

  “Your plans for SAM. What do you think now?”

  Reddington winced.

  “I couldn’t see any way out.”

  “But what about now? I have to know.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know. But… let me tell you something.”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever I say to you from now on is only advice. You don’t have to take it. Because understand this: however you came in here tonight, you’re going out the president. You were elected. Not by the people maybe, not even by SAM. But you’re President by the grace of God and that’s enough for me. From this moment on you’ll be President to everybody in the world. We’ve all agreed. Never think that you’re only a fraud, because you aren’t. You heard what the President said. You take it from here.”

  Larkin looked at him for a long while. Then he nodded once, briefly.

  “All right,” he said.

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got to say this, tonight, this afternoon, I didn’t really know what I was doing to you. I thought… well… the crisis came. But you had no time to think. That wasn’t right. A man shouldn’t be pushed into a thing like this without time to think. The old man just taught me something about making your own decisions. I should have let you make yours.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it isn’t. You remember him in there. Well. That’s you four years from tonight. If you live that long.”

  Now it was Larkin who reached out and patted Reddington on the shoulder.

  “That’s all right, too,” he said.

  Reddington said nothing. When he spoke again, Larkin realized he was moved.

  “We have the greatest luck, this country,” he said tightly. “At all the worst times we always seem to find all the best people.”

  “Well,” Larkin said hurriedly, “we’d better get to work. There’s a speech due in the morning. And the problem of SAM. And… oh, I’ve got to be sworn in.”

  He turned and went off down the hall. Reddington paused a moment before following him. He was thinking that he could be watching the last human President the United States would ever have. But - once more he straightened his shoulders.

  “Yes, sir,” he said softly, “Mr. President.”

 

 

 
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