Chapter 223

“By nature, parties must also have a position on just about everything, while movements need not because they have no pretensions to governing.”
—Susan George, Another World Is Possible If...

“WE’LL CALL THIS A SKIP-LEVEL meeting with your management chain,” Will said when I joined him in his office Friday morning. I’d carried a cup of Starbucks in with me and he motioned me to a seat at his small conference table. We were the only two in the office and I wondered what kind of trouble I was in. “Sometime, we should probably get you introduced to the rest of the management chain. Did you know Jo and Simon don’t report to me? There’s a director of service outreach and promotion they report to. She reports to me. Frankly, our organizational system is still pretty much a rats’ nest of people all trying to defend their corners. It’s only gotten worse while trying to fold in the chain of command from the General Director’s office. We’ll get it straightened out eventually.”

“Must be confusing. I hope it’s all addressed in the reform bill,” I said.

“We have a committee for that as well,” Will said. “Since the original reform bill died with the old Congress, we’ve taken the past year to refine and sharpen it so it can be presented as new legislation in both houses. The Speaker has said it will be presented in the House on Monday when it reconvenes. Senator Hornby has said he will not block it being on the agenda for the Senate. Next, we’ll find out how good your slate of reform candidates really is at getting legislation enacted.”

“I wish people would stop referring to them as my candidates,” I sighed.

“Yes. I think you made that clear at the convention last night. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Have I screwed things up?”

“Quite the opposite. I spoke with the President last night and she, too, is relieved. She was already getting pressure to join the Reformist Party and no longer feels the need to make that kind of statement. She’ll remain a member of the National Alliance Party that subsumed both the Democrats and Republicans post World War II. That will put her in a good position to lead the party remnants who have opposed reform and hopefully soften their stance.”

“I really hate politics,” I sighed.

“You hit extremely good points last night in what must have been the shortest speech ever given by a keynoter addressing a political convention. Creating a political party was an expedient solution to getting an entire, identifiable slate of candidates elected in a very short timeframe. It isn’t a good solution for the country in the long run. Both the President and I want to congratulate you on handling that situation well. And I wanted to apologize for setting you up a little.”

“How did you set me up?”

“Making you the National Service delegate to the convention, while not giving you any additional authority to act on behalf of the service, was to make sure you and your pod all attended officially rather than seeking time off for the convention or skipping it. While we wanted to recognize your efforts on behalf of service reform, neither the National Service nor the President could really publicly give you that kind of recognition. The Reformist Party could, however. So, we set you up to receive the titles of Founder and Chairman Emeritus of the Party. Then you tore it back down and became as much a hero last night as you were the night you selected a candidate for Detroit,” Will said. “Politics, Jacob. None of us like it, but it’s how things get done in Washington. And will continue to be the way, even in the wake of reform. You’re trending again, by the way.”

“Me?”

“#deliveronthepromise. Something that no one counted on was the groundswell of voter commitment to reform that goes beyond just getting candidates elected. Polls we’ve conducted over the past two months show that the nearly 40 million National Service veterans and current service personnel in the country are becoming the most active electoral base the country has seen in fifty years—since Vietnam, really.”

“You know, I just want to play the guitar and entertain people,” I said. “I’d like to believe Cindy and I have a way with music that makes the world a better place. Do I really need to be involved in politics?”

“We’re going to continue to use you as a deputation team to promote the benefits of National Service and encourage people to make the most of their opportunity,” he said. “We’re going to continue to refrain from directing what you say in your concerts, any more than we direct what you play. Your independence continues to make you one of our most valuable assets.”

“Plausible deniability,” I muttered. Will sat back and laughed.

“Okay. So, you know our game. Now with you separated from the President by political party as well as your basic independence, she can be seen as a great negotiator between the powerful voices of reform and the conservative voices of the National Alliance Party.” He took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down to contemplate me. “I’m proud to know you, Jacob. Somehow, you’ve brought the passion of a teenage crusader together with the thought processes of someone much older and contemplative. It’s a rare combination. Go back to school now and prepare a new program. You have the rest of January to do prep work and we plan to send you out on regional tours starting in February. This will be a lot like the kind of touring you did to high schools and local areas in Indiana before you graduated. Talk to your boss about what the schedule looks like and what kind of program you’ll need.”

“Jacob, I have an alert,” Amanda said as I sat at the table working on an arrangement Mr. Ferraro had assigned me. He was the best instructor on music theory and arranging I’d had since my introduction to theory with Ms. Devine in high school. He was meeting me at a different level than I’d had with my former teacher. I’d learned a lot about my instruments and art in those years. Mr. Ferraro was moving me to a new level of being able to hear the various voices of music in my head and transcribe the notes to paper.

“What is it, Amanda?” I asked as I inserted a #.

“There has been an explosion at the Convention Center in Baltimore,” she said. My attention spun to her fully.

“An explosion?”

“I am intercepting phone and police service messages indicating it may have been a gas leak. My searches have built sufficient evidence to believe ‘gas leak’ is a common euphemism for terrorist attack or bomb.”

“People, Amanda. Are people injured?”

“As you know, the Reformist Party Convention is still in session on the fourth floor of the Center. Fire is blocking exits on lower levels and an estimated 1,200 people are trapped on the upper level.”

“We need...”

“SSR has been dispatched and will be on the scene in ten minutes.” I jumped up from the table and ran to the master suite where I stripped out of my clothes and into my green jumpsuit. I pulled on socks and heavy shoes then grabbed my red and yellow backpack. I might not be able to enter a burning building with the team to rescue people, but I could be ready to help them when they emerged. Twelve hundred people. Newly elected congressmen and senators and delegates to the Reform Party from across the country. Gas leak my ass.

I ran downstairs and found Nanette waiting by the door for me.

“I’ll drive,” she said. We climbed into her VW and headed for the convention center fifty miles away. If the SSR was already within ten minutes, they must be going in by helicopter. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’ll find a location where I can provide support from outside. The team has been training for this kind of event. I haven’t. I’m not rushing into any burning buildings.”

“Can you coordinate with them?”

“I have my radio and earpiece. When we get nearer, I’ll let them know I’m standing by if it looks like I can do that without interrupting them. Nan, this morning Will called the delegates to the convention ‘my candidates.’ I brought them here. I caused this.”

“No, you didn’t. The cause brought them here. We’ll find out who did this to them. Amanda! You don’t talk to me, but I know you listen. We need to know who planned this attack and who profits from it. Get your little ass in gear and find us some answers.” The pile of shit was silent, but I didn’t bother to reinforce Nanette’s command. I knew from previous experience that while she only spoke to me, Amanda listened to everything.

I could see the helicopter hovering over the building from a mile away. I plugged in my earbud and listened for the chatter of the SSR team.

“We need someone on the ground to keep people calm as we bring them out,” I heard Dana’s voice. “The last thing we need is for people to flee the area before we know who is accounted for and who isn’t.”

“This is Jake. I’m on approach. ETA three minutes.”

“Jake! Good to hear you, buddy,” Dana said. “We’re getting everyone out on the roof and the chopper is lowering them to the ground about twenty at a time. Intercept them and organize them into ranks. Standard formation for school fire drills. Make sure anyone injured is in the hands of the EMTs.”

“You’ve got it. Pulling up now. Nan, I’ll get out here. See if you can find a place to park and bring Amanda. She can keep track of who is accounted for.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nan said as she pulled to a curb where a policeman was frantically waving her on. I jumped out and as soon as he saw my green jumpsuit and red and yellow backpack, he waved me through toward where the helicopter was landing with a load of people. How long would it take to get 1200 people off the roof at twenty at a time? Way too long was all I could estimate.

“People!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The helicopter was lifting up as the last person jumped off. There were a lot more than twenty. The chopper was definitely overloaded. “Get in line. Do not leave this area until you have signed in so we know you aren’t missing. If you have an injury, raise your hand at once. Let’s get you taken care of.” I pulled the clipboard and paper from my pack with a waterproof pen and literally pushed people into a single file line so they could sign in before the next chopper load came down. Police were clearing an area just to the left of the landing area and a humongous ladder truck pulled in and the extending ladder rose from its back. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but a steady stream of people from the roof would be headed down that ladder shortly. An EMT escorted a woman from my line to a waiting ambulance where she was treated on the spot for an asthma attack.

Before the next chopper load arrived, Nanette had joined me with Amanda. I was glad I’d have a way to record things without more paper and pens. I gave Amanda instructions and Nanette held her as I directed the next twenty from the helicopter to the line to sign in. I ran to the ladder truck where people were beginning to step off the ladder with the aid of several firefighters who gladly handed them over to me. No one knew who the fuck I was, but they recognized the green jumpsuit and red and yellow survival pack on my back.