10-01-2016, 10:49 PM
Jon swirled the whiskey in his palm. A little amber whirlpool formed, a vortex of the liquid moving in time with his hand. Was each individual droplet pulling the others along, or pushing? Or did they all move at once, dancing to the whims of the all-powerful force that was Jon’s hand? Was he just a droplet among the billions of souls on the earth, getting caught up in this whirlpool of fate? Not a thought he cared to relish.
"Oh, yes, I know exactly what you mean about growing stronger,"
he replied. "But I couldn't guess what it would take to get to where he's at. And we know he's had more time and more resources."
He frowned. He could see the picture that he wanted to see, but he couldn’t quite identify what the pieces of the puzzle looked like. But maybe Nicholas knew what they looked like.
Jon stopped swirling his glass and took a drink. "You were in the Navy, right? What does a commander do when he's up against a foe that outnumbers him and has the initiative?"
Nicholas smirked. "Fighting retreat, no point in sacrificing a ship for no gain."
The smirk faded, and he sighed. "But we don't have that luxury. We just have to change the game, Jon. We need to accept that this channeling thing isn't going to be the only dog we have in this fight."
His eyes narrowed at Jon. Something was weighing heavily on his mind, Jon was certain. "But it's still a big dog, and we need to do the best we can."
Jon nodded. They would have to change the game indeed. The question was, how? He had an inkling of an answer, but little else. “I never took Brandon to be much of a pack animal,”
he replied. “When coyotes hunt a larger animal, they aim to make their prey go where it thinks it wants to go, until it’s too late and it is isolated and worn out.”
He set his tumbler glass down. He was already starting to feel the effects on an empty stomach. The Power trembled but he dared not release it, or the fatigue would flood back in.
"What strengths do we have that he can't hope to match, Nicholas?"
"Well, if this were a story we're obviously the good guys."
Nicholas took another sip of his whiskey and leaned back in the chair. Jon kept a straight face. It seemed his friend was as heavy a drinker as ever. "Sadly, this is real life. In all honesty, the bastard has all the cards. He has the numbers, a larger economy, more channeling experience. The only thing he loses on is personality. I can't see the guy sharing anything."
Well, he might not share anything on purpose, but Jon had his ways. Nicholas sounded a touch defeatist. That was dangerous, and sad as well. He tapped his hands together. “I’ve never seen two bears hunt together,”
he replied. That had to be their strength, that they were stronger together. “Has he said anything about female channelers? It’s different with them, you know. They don’t use the power the same way as us. Maybe it’s a different power entirely, yet the same. Like two sides of the same coin. But it’s just as effective.”
"I've only met one woman who can channel, and I think you know who it is."
He took another sip. "When she's not busy inadvertently eviscerating me in the press, she's a representative for South Dakota. But what are you suggesting? That we beat him with an army of women?"
Jon chuckled. "Just speculating. He's probably got less of a clue with women than we do."
Jon frowned. That wasn't how he had meant that to come out. "Do you think Evelyn Avalon really struck a chord when she brought up the issue with channelers being a minority?"
"Of course she did. Even if her interview with Gwendolyn was the dumbest thing I've ever seen that girl do, she's being smart with that one. I'm a conservative, Jon. As reasonable as I can be, that's all everyone else sees. I can't appeal to the left the way she can."
Nicholas smirked. "Making this a civil rights issue and a gun control issue? We can pretty much get the whole country behind us."
And that was the final piece there. The missing puzzle piece that Jon knew had been dangling around somewhere. “You remember Rand Paul's Work Education Program, right?”
His companion snorted. "Of course I do,"
Nicholas said. "Have you ever heard a libertarian shut up about how much of a genius Rand Paul was?"
And it was a brilliant program, the effects of which were still being enjoyed today. It was simple enough, designed for one thing: get the machinery of the economy moving again. People signed up to work for a period of time in exchange for their education paid for by corporations or through public budgets. Paul's critics called it indentured servitude, but no one could argue that it got people to work where they were needed most. And that most importantly it took minimal government involvement.
Jon leaned forward, light flashing off his eye with a conspiratorial glean. “The case should be very easily made that both through the Department of Education and the Department of Labor, that they need to take affirmative action and prioritize their job placement, education and training funds for people that can channel because they are a minority group to themselves. And I’m sure that we can find plenty of private interests that are willing to pony up the dollars to make sure this happens. We’re not talking about raising an army. We’re talking about putting voluntary American talents to their best use. Wherever that may be.”
Jon watched Nicholas’ eyes light up. He could see it too. "And from there, we're ahead of Brandon's game. We can get the jump on the industrial side of things, at least."
Nicholas stood up and walked across the room, looking out a window. "We haven't scratched the surface of this, but I think we both know that with enough brain power and channeling, we can revolutionize everything. Kind of makes you wonder what the world's going to look like in ten years, doesn't it?"
Jon stretched his legs out. "Hopefully we'll both be there to see it."
He put a finger to his temple. "Which reminds me. It isn't too early for you to get your exploratory committee together for a 2048 run. Snagging a high profile public office like this one has done a lot for your credibility. If handled right."
The question on Jon's mind, though, was whether he was still hungry for it.
Nicholas turned back around. He was. "I've been thinking about it, and you're not wrong. I thought I was toast when everybody called me crazy six months ago. That broadcast was the worst mistake of my career."
He chuckled, "Of course, now that Brandon and Dawson are saying I was right all along I look like a brave whistleblower."
Jon stood up and walked over to the same window. He could see the Washington monument from here, standing tall and strong. It probably wasn't actually very sturdy as far as structures went. "Appearances are all that really matter. You made Brandon walk back a bold faced lie."
One that would stick in people's memory each time they saw that damn archway.
"I did, and as much as he pretends nothing came of it, his credibility still took a hit,"
Nicholas said as he turned to look out with Jon. "Wonder if they'd think we were gods, if we went and turned that monument into something stupid and gaudy like Brandon did."
Jon laughed. "We already have one of those. It's called Mount Rushmore."
He chuckled to himself. If they were to mess with the legacy of the Founding Fathers, people would call them things, but gods wouldn't be at the top of the list.
Jon felt a buzzing in his coat pocket. His Wallet. He pulled it out and glanced at it. "Oh, shit. Nicholas. You need to check the news."
He swiped at the feed. "It's Brandon. He's in critical condition. Nick, he's been shot."
Edited by Jon Little Bird, Oct 1 2016, 10:51 PM.
"Oh, yes, I know exactly what you mean about growing stronger,"
he replied. "But I couldn't guess what it would take to get to where he's at. And we know he's had more time and more resources."
He frowned. He could see the picture that he wanted to see, but he couldn’t quite identify what the pieces of the puzzle looked like. But maybe Nicholas knew what they looked like.
Jon stopped swirling his glass and took a drink. "You were in the Navy, right? What does a commander do when he's up against a foe that outnumbers him and has the initiative?"
Nicholas smirked. "Fighting retreat, no point in sacrificing a ship for no gain."
The smirk faded, and he sighed. "But we don't have that luxury. We just have to change the game, Jon. We need to accept that this channeling thing isn't going to be the only dog we have in this fight."
His eyes narrowed at Jon. Something was weighing heavily on his mind, Jon was certain. "But it's still a big dog, and we need to do the best we can."
Jon nodded. They would have to change the game indeed. The question was, how? He had an inkling of an answer, but little else. “I never took Brandon to be much of a pack animal,”
he replied. “When coyotes hunt a larger animal, they aim to make their prey go where it thinks it wants to go, until it’s too late and it is isolated and worn out.”
He set his tumbler glass down. He was already starting to feel the effects on an empty stomach. The Power trembled but he dared not release it, or the fatigue would flood back in.
"What strengths do we have that he can't hope to match, Nicholas?"
"Well, if this were a story we're obviously the good guys."
Nicholas took another sip of his whiskey and leaned back in the chair. Jon kept a straight face. It seemed his friend was as heavy a drinker as ever. "Sadly, this is real life. In all honesty, the bastard has all the cards. He has the numbers, a larger economy, more channeling experience. The only thing he loses on is personality. I can't see the guy sharing anything."
Well, he might not share anything on purpose, but Jon had his ways. Nicholas sounded a touch defeatist. That was dangerous, and sad as well. He tapped his hands together. “I’ve never seen two bears hunt together,”
he replied. That had to be their strength, that they were stronger together. “Has he said anything about female channelers? It’s different with them, you know. They don’t use the power the same way as us. Maybe it’s a different power entirely, yet the same. Like two sides of the same coin. But it’s just as effective.”
"I've only met one woman who can channel, and I think you know who it is."
He took another sip. "When she's not busy inadvertently eviscerating me in the press, she's a representative for South Dakota. But what are you suggesting? That we beat him with an army of women?"
Jon chuckled. "Just speculating. He's probably got less of a clue with women than we do."
Jon frowned. That wasn't how he had meant that to come out. "Do you think Evelyn Avalon really struck a chord when she brought up the issue with channelers being a minority?"
"Of course she did. Even if her interview with Gwendolyn was the dumbest thing I've ever seen that girl do, she's being smart with that one. I'm a conservative, Jon. As reasonable as I can be, that's all everyone else sees. I can't appeal to the left the way she can."
Nicholas smirked. "Making this a civil rights issue and a gun control issue? We can pretty much get the whole country behind us."
And that was the final piece there. The missing puzzle piece that Jon knew had been dangling around somewhere. “You remember Rand Paul's Work Education Program, right?”
His companion snorted. "Of course I do,"
Nicholas said. "Have you ever heard a libertarian shut up about how much of a genius Rand Paul was?"
And it was a brilliant program, the effects of which were still being enjoyed today. It was simple enough, designed for one thing: get the machinery of the economy moving again. People signed up to work for a period of time in exchange for their education paid for by corporations or through public budgets. Paul's critics called it indentured servitude, but no one could argue that it got people to work where they were needed most. And that most importantly it took minimal government involvement.
Jon leaned forward, light flashing off his eye with a conspiratorial glean. “The case should be very easily made that both through the Department of Education and the Department of Labor, that they need to take affirmative action and prioritize their job placement, education and training funds for people that can channel because they are a minority group to themselves. And I’m sure that we can find plenty of private interests that are willing to pony up the dollars to make sure this happens. We’re not talking about raising an army. We’re talking about putting voluntary American talents to their best use. Wherever that may be.”
Jon watched Nicholas’ eyes light up. He could see it too. "And from there, we're ahead of Brandon's game. We can get the jump on the industrial side of things, at least."
Nicholas stood up and walked across the room, looking out a window. "We haven't scratched the surface of this, but I think we both know that with enough brain power and channeling, we can revolutionize everything. Kind of makes you wonder what the world's going to look like in ten years, doesn't it?"
Jon stretched his legs out. "Hopefully we'll both be there to see it."
He put a finger to his temple. "Which reminds me. It isn't too early for you to get your exploratory committee together for a 2048 run. Snagging a high profile public office like this one has done a lot for your credibility. If handled right."
The question on Jon's mind, though, was whether he was still hungry for it.
Nicholas turned back around. He was. "I've been thinking about it, and you're not wrong. I thought I was toast when everybody called me crazy six months ago. That broadcast was the worst mistake of my career."
He chuckled, "Of course, now that Brandon and Dawson are saying I was right all along I look like a brave whistleblower."
Jon stood up and walked over to the same window. He could see the Washington monument from here, standing tall and strong. It probably wasn't actually very sturdy as far as structures went. "Appearances are all that really matter. You made Brandon walk back a bold faced lie."
One that would stick in people's memory each time they saw that damn archway.
"I did, and as much as he pretends nothing came of it, his credibility still took a hit,"
Nicholas said as he turned to look out with Jon. "Wonder if they'd think we were gods, if we went and turned that monument into something stupid and gaudy like Brandon did."
Jon laughed. "We already have one of those. It's called Mount Rushmore."
He chuckled to himself. If they were to mess with the legacy of the Founding Fathers, people would call them things, but gods wouldn't be at the top of the list.
Jon felt a buzzing in his coat pocket. His Wallet. He pulled it out and glanced at it. "Oh, shit. Nicholas. You need to check the news."
He swiped at the feed. "It's Brandon. He's in critical condition. Nick, he's been shot."
Edited by Jon Little Bird, Oct 1 2016, 10:51 PM.