Neal Stephenson - Interface

By the time the Secret Service dragged her off of the shocked Cozzano, roughly a hundred dollars' worth of assorted produce had been destroyed by the feet of video cameramen and still photographers who leapt up on to the high ground as soon as they heard trouble, running back and forth along the tables looking for a camera angle, churning the opulent displays of fresh strawberries, asparagus, basil, chanterelles, blackberries, and sweet corn into succotash. Most of them just barely had time to zero their cameras in on the contorted face of the old Vietnamese woman before she began to scream, in English: "You killed my baby! You killed my baby! You are an evil man!" Sunday, October 27:

COZZANO 35%

PRESIDENT 15%

MCLANE 34%

UNDECIDED 12%

OTHER 4%

A front-page exclusive in the Sunday editions of The Dallas Morning News told an interesting story of about Cozzano's son, James. James Cozzano had spent most of the spring and summer following the primary campaigns as part of a research project for his doctoral dissertation. During this period he had made contacts with Lawrence Barnes, a wealthy Dallas businessman who was a big supporter of the candidacy of the Reverend Doctor William Joseph Sweigel. After Sweigel's loss to Tip McLane, Lawrence Barnes had approached James Cozzano and offered him a position on the board of directors of an import-export business, based in Houston, in which Barnes held a majority interest. The business dealt mostly in equipment related to oil exploration and drilling.

It was now revealed that this company did most of its business with Iraq and Libya, and that minority interests were owned by shady offshore companies that were known to be controlled by the governments of those countries.

Monday, October 28:

COZZANO 32%

PRESIDENT 16%

MCLANE 34%

UNDECIDED 13%

OTHER 5%

Fifty newspapers across the United States ran the same photo­graph on the front page, a wire service photo taken on a small lake a few miles south of Tuscola, Illinois. The photo showed a local farmer out on a little rowboat, examining the surface of the lake, which was covered with dead fish. The farmer said that the fish kill was almost certainly caused by a spill of toxic waste originating from the CBAP plant in Tuscola - the economic foundation of the Cozzano fortune.

The Cozzano campaign held a press conference in Seattle, in which leaders of the local Vietnamese-American community stated that no one had ever seen, or heard of, the little Vietnamese lady who had accused Cozzano of war crimes. The woman herself had gone into seclusion after having been released by the police, and was no longer speaking to the press; but her family insisted that Cozzano had rolled a hand grenade into their hut in Vietnam and blown up three small children.

Tuesday, October 29:

COZZANO 30%

PRESIDENT 17%

MCLANE 38%

UNDECIDED 11%

OTHER 4%

A retired nurse who had once been hired to work in the Cozzano home, during the prolonged illness of Christina Cozzano, said that during the last few weeks of her life, Cozzano's late wife had become addicted to painkilling drugs.

The wife of Tip McLane's vice-presidential candidate, during a speech to a conservative Christian group, stated that Eleanor Richmond's overbearing and "unusually aggressive" personality had played a significant role in driving her husband to suicide.

James Cozzano resigned from the board of directors of the import-export company in Texas and stated that he had been taken for a ride.

Wednesday, October 30:

COZZANO 29%

PRESIDENT 18%

MCLANE 38%

UNDECIDED 12%

OTHER 3%

The farmer who had accused CBAP of polluting the water and killing the fish retracted his statement, saying it had been based upon information given to him by an unknown "expert" who had since disappeared. Chemical analysis of the bodies of the fish showed that they had been killed by a common agricultural pesticide, which was available at any farm supply business, and which was not produced at CBAP.

The retired nurse who had told the story about Christina Cozzano's drug addiction was found dead in her garage in Peoria; she had committed suicide by breathing car exhaust.

The wife of Tip McLane's running mate stated in an interview that she had not meant, in any way, to say negative things about Eleanor Richmond.

William A. Cozzano canceled all of his campaign appearances for the rest of the week, saying that he needed to prepare for the big debate on Friday night.

Nimrod T. ("Tip") McLane, in an informal interview with Markene Caldicott on his campaign plane, deplored the way the presidential campaign had gone negative.

The President of the United States, addressing a Boy Scout jamboree in Arizona, said that he didn't blame young people for sometimes losing faith in politics, and promised that, when reelected, he would appoint a presidential commission to look into the state of America's elections.

The anchorman of the CBS Evening News, in a rare editorial, said that the presidential campaign had reached new depths this year, and stated that his organization was taking steps to make sure that it would not happen again.

At the private hotel that serves as Jeremiah Freel's headquarters, security remained tight. The elevators were turned off except when someone very important was expected, or three times a day when room service was brought up from the kitchen.

For the fourth morning in a row, the waitress named Louella brought Jeremiah Freel his dish of stewed prunes. This did not go unnoticed by Freel. Louella was a hard woman not to notice. It was almost inconceivable that any woman, clad in the dowdy uniform of a hotel waitress, could appear sexy. But Louella managed. She must have taken her uniform home and modified it somehow, dropped the neckline, raised the hem. Every day, she was showing a little more cleavage, and every day, when she placed the breakfast tray on the table in front Jeremiah Freel, she bent down a little bit lower, gave him a longer and deeper look down into the front of her dress.

Today he could no longer restrain himself. His hand darted down into her blouse, quick as a striking cobra, and caught her nipple. Not hard enough to hurt. But hard enough to keep her where she was.

"Mr. Freel," said one of his minders. One of the hated men in suits who surrounded him at all times.

"Shut up, asswipe!" Freel said.

Louella was staring straight into Freel's eyes. She wasn't angry at all. She was almost amused. She was interested. She licked her lips and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Freel, but fresh fruit isn't on today's menu." Her face was about four inches from Freel's. She was wearing a lot of perfume and Freel could smell it wafting up from the middle of her hot cleavage.

"Then what do I have here?" Freel said, squeezing her nipple.

"You don't have a damn thing," Louella said, "unless you can get us a little bit of privacy." She looked around accusingly at all of the men in suits: four of them in this room alone.

"Get the fuck out!" Freel shouted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Freel, you know we can't allow that!" said the head honcho, a guy who would only identify himself as Al. Al was clearly getting a little nervous. "Ma'am," he said to Louella, "I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"But I can't," Louella said, "until Mr. Freel lets go of me. And I can tell you he's not the kind of man who lets go until he gets what he wants."

"Get the fuck out," Freel said, "or this whole campaign goes up in flames. Can't you see I need to get laid?"

This appeal to simple, basic human needs got through to Al. He broke eye contact and thought about it for a second. "Well, okay," he finally said. "Come on guys, let's leave them alone."

All of Freel's minders got up and backed out of the room staring fixedly at Louella's backside. Louella turned around and yelled at them on their way out. "And I don't want you standing outside the door listening, either. You get back to your own rooms and watch TV of something."