Charles Wheelan - The Rationing

The “adults” were not powerful enough to pass legislation by themselves. Too much of what had to be done in Washington involved medicine the country was not prepared to take. They could, however, derail the very worst ideas. They could also generate momentum for an idea whose time had come. The press and the nation’s opinion leaders respected their collective wisdom. Most of the members were sought-after guests on news programs, not because they yearned for the spotlight (many were openly disdainful of it) but because media outlets were keen to have guests who could offer a modicum of depth. (Ironically, the legislators most eager to get on such programs were typically the least-favored guests.) The Conventioneers were not miracle workers; they had to win elections like everyone else. Then again, so did the delegates to the Constitutional Convention. The President’s informal liaison with the “adults” in the Senate was the Majority Leader, who had earned that position because of his decades-long reputation as a legislative workhorse. In the House, the President typically called Gail Steans, a particle physicist who had run for her first term in Congress when she was well into her fifties.

The President reached out to the adults before his formal briefing to Congress, both to ensure their support and to get feedback on his proposed remarks. He contacted Representative Steans first. She was a feisty woman, short and wiry, with a husky voice, who seemed perpetually annoyed that human beings did not act as predictably as other elements in the universe. She had been elected as a Democrat but left the party and became independent when the Speaker started trying to tell her what to do. (After the President was elected as an independent, it gave cover to a small but influential group of legislators to ditch their party affiliations. Three senators and eleven representatives had also been elected as independents.) The scuttlebutt in the capital was that Representative Steans did not “play nice” with her Washington colleagues. That was misleading, as she was a delightful and courteous person who happened to have zero patience for political nonsense. “I’m too old for that crap,” she would often remark. In fact, she was well liked by her fellow Conventioneers, who often looked to her for guidance on scientific matters.

“How are you holding up, Mr. President?” Representative Steans asked when the President called her on the way to a town hall meeting in her home state of Maryland.

“I’ve had better stretches.”

“You wanted the job,” she said. This was a statement of the obvious and could pass for small talk, but there was a slight edge in the remark, as if to remind him that others in his seat had faced worse. “What’s the latest?” she asked. The President walked her through the situation: the amount of Dormigen left, the fatality projections, and so on.

“First thing,” Steans said, “you need to get yourself back to D.C. This whole flying west stunt has played itself out.”

“We’ll be wheels-up right after I give my address,” the President replied. He had met with the Australian Prime Minister and other Asian leaders while on the ground in Canberra. They had recommitted themselves to the South China Sea Agreement before posing for a group photo, fourteen heads of state effectively facing down Chinese hegemony in the region. The President did not land on an aircraft carrier—it felt wrong in light of developments stateside—but the group photo had been taken on one of the disputed South China Sea islands, which broadcast the same message to Beijing.

“Why don’t you speak from Air Force One in flight?” Representative Steans asked. “That will give you some extra drama. Very presidential.” Her tone was not facetious. Rather, she acknowledged the effectiveness of these political gestures even as she wished they were unnecessary.

“We had some problems with the broadcasting technology, but yes, I think I can do that now,” the President said. “What’s the tenor on the Hill?”

“A lot of noise, mostly. The Tea Party jackasses are talking about impeachment.”

“On what grounds?”

“Who knows, who cares?” Steans said dismissively.

“They all voted against any public funding for Dormigen in the first place,” the President complained.

“Of course they did. Government is the problem for those morons until they call 911 and no one answers. Ignore them. That’s a sideshow.”

“And elsewhere?”

“I think you’ve got decent support on Capitol Hill in the places where you need it,” Representative Steans said thoughtfully. “Other than the Speaker and her minions, I don’t think anybody thinks we should kowtow to the Chinese. We’ll see how that sentiment holds up when people start dying… Is there no better deal to be struck there?”

“We’ve been working that one hard,” the President answered. “They’ve come back with some better offers, but they all involve walking away from the South China Sea Agreement. I just don’t see them dropping that condition.”

“What about postponing it? President Xing could save face and we’d still get the agreement.”

“We tried that. No go.”

“What a waste,” Representative Steans said, sighing audibly. “People are going to start dying here and they’ll have warehouses full of Dormigen there.”

“World War I was a waste, too,” the President said. “If you think about the big picture, we need to push China toward becoming a more responsible global power. That’s why the South China Sea Agreement is so important. It’s like Germany and Japan after World War II. We need China as a force for good.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s right.”

“We do have one more potential diplomatic option,” the President offered.

“Yes?”

“I can’t say anything more, but I’m cautiously optimistic.” Representative Steans knew better than to pry; the President was not one to play coy. After a brief silence, he offered, “We may have a breakthrough on the virus front, too.”

“What’s that?”

“The NIH folks can brief you better than I. My understanding is that they have some new insight into why the virus turns virulent.” [23] The NIH Director had briefed the President on my hypothesis.

“I wouldn’t expect too much on that front,” Representative Steans warned.

“Why is that?”

“We have, what, a handful of days until the Dormigen supplies run out?”

“My understanding is the scientists may be able to come up with some kind of antidote.”

“I’m skeptical,” Representative Steans said. “Scientific breakthroughs don’t happen in days. I certainly would not say anything about that in your remarks. What you need to be doing now is setting expectations for how bad it could be.”

“Cecelia Dodds is helping us with that,” the President said.

“What a needless tragedy,” Representative Steans said. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“I’ve tried.”

Representative Steans exhaled audibly. “That’s what we’re facing on a massive scale,” she said. “You don’t want to create panic, but complacency might be just as dangerous.”

“I understand.”

The President took her advice (reiterated by many others) that he should address the nation from Air Force One on his way back to D.C. The technology on board had been fixed and double-checked (and triple-checked after the President growled at the Chief of Staff, “It better fucking work”). The word went out that Air Force One would be departing shortly. As the last supplies were loaded on board and the doors were closed, the Strategist had not boarded. The Secretary of State had gone missing as well.