Richard Stephenson - Resistance

“Mr. President, I am truly honored by your visit. We have a formal banquet prepared for you tonight at the Four Seasons. Plans for your address to the nation are moving forward without a hitch. I was wondering if you had a chance to consider my suggestions?”

Howard cut to the chase. “I’m not giving the speech at city hall.”

Senator Wilson took the news in stride. “Oh? What location do you prefer?”

“I’ll be speaking from the deck of the Freedom of the Seas.”

“The what?”

“The cruise ship.”

Senator Wilson scanned his keen political mind for an angle. “Housing for UAE refugees? I like it. That works. Nice job tackling one of the hot-button issues.” He couldn’t ignore the wide-eyed, cryptic looks exchanged by Max and Elizabeth. “What? Am I missing something? This is about housing refugees, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.” Max cleared his throat to cover the chuckle that threatened to intervene.

Elizabeth covered her mouth to hide a smile and then looked away from the senator. “Howard, maybe you should tell Senator Wilson what’s going on,” Elizabeth said.

Howard had been dreading this moment. He was truly grateful that Max and Elizabeth were here to defend him and run interference. “Senator Wilson, when’s the last time you visited California?”

***

The $800 million dollar cruise ship, the Freedom of the Seas -complete with fifteen decks, ten swimming pools, movie theater, ice-skating rink, and rock climbing wall-stood twenty glorious stories above the water. President Howard Alan Beck stood on a hastily built stage looking out across the harbor. A year had passed since the election, and the citizens of the Pacific States of America had yet to witness a live presidential address. He’d recorded his inaugural address to be disseminated to the citizens, much in the manner of FDR’s fireside chats of almost a century prior. While Howard hated public speaking, he knew the public wanted, needed, to hear from their president. Looking out at the expectant crowd, Howard removed a small tablet from his coat pocket. “Hal, how many people would you say are here?”

“Good morning, sir. Attendance is well over one hundred thousand. I have twelve drones in the air monitoring everything. I assure you things are perfectly safe.”

“Hal, I’m more worried about my speech right now.”

“Of course, sir. Simply lay your tablet down flat on the podium and the speech will be projected at eye level.”

“Outstanding! Let’s get this show on the road. Senator Wilson, if you please, kind sir.”

“Yes, Mr. President.” Arthur Wilson approached the podium and began his introduction.

“Citizens of the Pacific States of America, today marks a milestone in the short history of our nation. President Howard Beck has given the fine city of Seattle the distinct privilege of hosting the very first State of the Union address. I could spend the better part of an hour lauding the praises of our very own founding father, but his accomplishments speak for themselves. We owe President Beck a debt we can never repay. Democracy is alive and well, thanks to this man.” Senator Wilson raised his arm towards Howard in a gesture of pride and friendship. Howard mistakenly thought that was his cue, so he stood and walked toward the podium. “Well! I see the president is anxious for me to take my seat. Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the Pacific States of America.”

For the next three and a half minutes Howard stood awkwardly at the podium, forcing a smile and nodding his head in thanks as over one hundred thousand people clapped and screamed with enthusiasm. Men and women wept openly as they tried to process the torrent of emotions overtaking them. They had spent years living in panic and crushing despair as their country fell to pieces around them. For the first time in as long as they could remember, they felt pride in their country; the man at the podium was the living embodiment of hope.

Howard waited until the applause abated and let the pointed silence hang heavily in the air for a few seconds. He studied the first line of his speech and surprised Max and Elizabeth by going off script. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve read this speech a dozen times, memorized it actually, and it didn’t occur to me until this second just how extremely powerful the first three words are: My fellow Americans. That phrase means a lot more now, doesn’t it? Every president in recent memory opened his speeches with it. We hardly took notice of it, but it means so much more in these dark days. You see, the madman on the other side of our borders stopped using that phrase early on, and he’ll never say it again. I’ll tell you why: Simon Sterling doesn’t see the citizens of his nation as ‘fellow’ anything. They’re not citizens… they’re his subjects. He’s elevated himself to a god-like status-an error made by many dictators and monarchs throughout the course of history-with horrible consequences.”

Howard paused for a moment to reflect and emphasized every word, every syllable, of the emotion-laden proclamation that followed: “He. Must. Be. Stopped!”

The crowd went wild. Howard had to wait the better part of a minute for the cheering and clapping to subside. “Our nation is strong, our resources are strong, and our resolve is even stronger. We cannot continue to live in such comfort and security while our brothers and sisters in the Unified American Empire are being held hostage! We must rescue them from oppression! We must rescue them from a power-hungry madman who covets his own supremacy above the needs of his people! We must unite our borders, Pacific to Atlantic, and make whole the United States of America. Above all else, we must return our beloved nation to her people!”

Again, the crowd erupted in a deafening display of approval. Max and Elizabeth stood in awed silence. Never in their wildest dreams would they have guessed Howard had so much emotion brewing within him.

“The commanding general of our armed forces, General Richard Dupree, is currently preparing an invasion force that will liberate the former state of California from UAE rule. Before this historic mission can begin, I need your help. I will ask for your sacrifice in the coming days. I’m counting on the good citizens of Seattle to do their patriotic duty and answer the call to protect democracy, to liberate the downtrodden souls from beneath the oppressive thumb of Simon Sterling. Tell me, Seattle, are you up to the task?”

The crowd exploded in a roar of unanimous support. They were ready to lay down their lives for their president.

“In order for the liberation of California to begin, we require transportation to get our troops to her shores. This magnificent vessel upon which I stand will be needed in the coming battle. The good people living on this boat will need new homes. I thank them for their sacrifice, and I’m counting on the good people of Seattle to see to it that they have warm beds to sleep in and food on their plates. What say you, Seattle? Will you join me in this noble cause?”

Once again, the crowd erupted in rapturous applause. Max leaned over to his wife. “You gotta give it to him; the man’s a genius. Yesterday, Richard said these people were ready to chain themselves to the bulkheads so the military would have to forcefully remove them. Howard just turned the tables on them. Now the people of Seattle are going to escort them off the boat like they’re celebrities.”

Simon Sterling was standing in the dressing room of the master suite of his Colorado home. His tailor was taking his measurements so he could set about the weekly task of altering Simon’s dozens of suits. The Italian had been a master tailor for the better part of three decades and had suffered his fair share of men whose obsession with clothing bordered on psychotic. Most of them insisted on monthly fittings; the tailor thought they were overdoing it, but took their money just the same. Simon Sterling’s preoccupation with fashion and appearance took obsession to a new level. He never missed his Monday morning fittings. The tailor was terrified of the president and lauded him with praises customarily reserved for models about to hit the catwalk.