Zach Hughes: Pressure Man

Parliamentary democracy was not popular in the United States. The politicians who had sat for centuries in the halls of government without solving even the most pressing problems were sent home to work the fields to help restore American agriculture, for the manna from heaven made an excellent fertilizer. Actually, only a few of the ex-movers and shakers did manual labor, but many fancied themselves to be gentlemen farmers, and it made a good story when it was told to the press by J.J. Barnes, Minister of Supply of the Second Republic.

Admiral Gordon was not totally satisfied with the new government in Washington, but it was better than anything the country had known since the last of the hard-nosed American Presidents, Harry Truman, died in the middle of the twentieth century. Dom began to have hope, as he talked to traditionalists in the services, that a total military dictatorship would be avoided, and that a measure of freedom would be maintained, to be expanded upon in the future. Never, however, would something so precious as a vote be extended to people steeped in ignorance and indolence. The right to vote would be available to all, but it would be earned, and not by owning money or property. The vote could be exercised only by those who, by written test, demonstrated a working knowledge of the choices of free men. The franchise would be available to any person if it was earned, but it was not a God-given right. Future elections would not be won by the man who looked best on television, or by a man who got votes because his father and the voter’s father had been Publicrat all their lives.

Admiral Neil Walters took the Kennedy on her third trip to Jupiter after completing flight tests on the second of the huge tankers. Admiral Gordon raced him there on the New Republic , the Kennedy’s sister ship. To his pleasure, the old girl beat her younger sister into orbit by two hours and thirty-two minutes.

It was a long trip to Dom, for Doris was Earthside, designing a computer which would link qualified voters to a referendum center in Washington. By the time he got back to the moon, ten million citizens had qualified, and were in a position to let their voices be heard on all questions, not merely who was to sit on the throne of power. An entirely new form of government of the people and by the people was slowly being put into effect.

When she met the shuttle which took him down, she was in full dress uniform. Dom had never seen her look more beautiful. He found her to smell and feel equally wonderful as he seized her in a bear hug and lifted her from her feet. He had only one plan. It involved privacy and Doris. And, in the future, if she didn’t go, he didn’t go.

“You’re not being dignified, admiral,” Doris said, tugging at her tunic. “And we’re on camera.”

Dom looked up into the eye of a television camera. “Again?” he asked.

“This one is special,” Doris said. “The media have been released from censorship. We’re operating with a free press again, and the network wants to do a full documentary on the first flight of the Kennedy .”

“Later,” Dom said, seizing her arm and trying to lead her away.

“There are orders from on high to cooperate,” Doris said.

“J.J.?” Dom asked. She nodded. “Oh, hell,” he said. “Let him be interviewed. I’m taking you home.”

But he was blocked by another camera crew and a young woman. “Admiral Gordon, we won’t take much of your time.”

“All right,” Dom said. “Let’s get on with it.”

“We’d like to do one segment of filming on the construction site,” the young lady said. A third tanker was taking shape out on the moon. “We can do that after you’ve had a chance to rest from your trip.”

“You’re all heart,” Dom said.

John Marrow was to conduct the interview with Dom. He cornered Dom. “I think you’d like to know what goes before,” he said. “It’ll only take a minute.” He placed Dom in front of a portable monitor.

The introduction to the documentary opened with dramatic closeup shots of Jupiter. The Kennedy was superimposed against the gas giant. Marrow’s voice was talking about the state of the world at the time of the Kennedy’s first voyage and of the brave men and women who set out aboard an untested vessel on a mission which would change the world.

“Here’s where we come in,” Marrow said. “We’re on.” He faced the camera. “And now a third tanker of the Kennedy class is nearing completion. As she takes shape, out beyond the moon, we have with us the man who designed the original Kennedy , a man who has just returned from his third expedition to Jupiter. His friends call him Flash Gordon.”

“You’re not my friend,” Dom said. “To you it’s Admiral Gordon.”

“Cut,” Marrow said. “I’m sorry, admiral. Shall we try again?” He went through his introduction. “And now, Admiral Gordon, can you tell us the results of your latest trip to Jupiter?”

“We brought home the bacon, same as before,” Dom said.

“An apt phrase, admiral, for in a sense that’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I said.”

“For, indeed, the hold of the New Republic contains enough material to furnish food for millions of people.”

“To be specific,” Dom said, “the hold contains several hundred thousand tons of carbonigenous cloud from the three-thousand-atmosphere layer of the planet Jupiter.”

“Now, Admiral Gordon, let’s go back to the beginning, when you and J.J. Barnes were designing the original Kennedy .”

“J.J. had nothing to do with designing the ship,” Dom said. “He was project head. The design was done by me and my team, which included Larry and Doris Gomulka—”

“Cut,” Marrow said. “Let’s go back to ‘let’s go back to the beginning.’ Roll ’em. Let’s go back to the beginning, admiral, to the time when you and your team were designing the original Kennedy . I understand that you did not know the true function of the ship. Is that true?”

“We were told that there was an alien ship inside the atmosphere of Jupiter,” Dom said.

“Is it true that only one or two men knew the true purpose of the first expedition?”

“I don’t know how many,” Dom said. “J.J. Barnes knew.”

“But you, admiral, soon saw, once you were down in the atmosphere, that J.J. Barnes was a man of true vision, a man with brilliant insight and wisdom?”

“I thought he was crazy,” Dom said.

“You no longer feel that way, I’m sure.” Marrow laughed.

“I still think he’s a nut, but an inspired and very lucky nut. He took a gamble and it paid off. It was a brilliant gamble and we owe a lot to J.J.”

“Would you cast your vote for J.J. Barnes as President of the United States?”

“No,” Dom said.

“Cut,” Marrow said.

“What the fuck kind of a question is that?” Dom demanded.

“Don’t you know that J.J. filed for the Presidency in the next election?” Marrow asked.

“No.”

“Would you vote for him?”

“No.”

“We’ll leave that out,” Marrow said. “Roll ’em.”

He thought for a minute. “Are you a qualified voter, Admiral Gordon?”

“Not yet. I’ll probably have to have my wife coach me to pass the test.”

Marrow was forming another question when Dom interrupted. “Did J.J. line this up so that I would give him a testimonial as a candidate?”

“Let ’em roll,” Marrow said. “Well cut it out later.” He changed tactics. “As the man who designed the Kennedy and was her captain on her first voyage, could you, Admiral Gordon, give us your explanation of what some people call a miracle?”