Bentley Little - The Store

"Order in the chambers!" the mayor announced. "Order! If you have anything to say, you can come up here and state your piece. But you cannot disrupt a speaker who has been recognized by the council."

Keyes waited calmly by the podium, a slight smile on his lips.

"We cannot have a private police department!" Aaron Jefcoat shouted. "The police are here to uphold laws and serve the public, not follow the orders of some company!"

Forest Everson faced the council. "We're a police force, not a private militia!"

"There would be no change in the department's structure or manpower," the mayor said. "The only difference would be on paper. Rather than the taxpayers funding the police department, The Store would provide the monies necessary." He looked toward Keyes. "Isn't that right?"

The Store's representative nodded.

"That's the way it should be!" said an overweight man Bill did not recognize. "Why should all of us have to pay for the police when not all of us commit crimes?"

"Because the police protect everyone!" Forest replied. "Including you!"

"We have to pay for protection? Who are you guys, the mafia?"

"Order!" the mayor announced.

After several more minutes of arguing and back-and-forth verbal volleys, the mayor finally succeeded in getting the audience quieted down. Keyes handed copies of the drafted proposal to each of the council members, then took his seat.

No one attacked him.

No one spoke to him.

Bill looked back at The Store representative, and the pale man met his eyes. Smiled.

Bill quickly turned away.

A host of speakers came up to the podium, most of them denouncing the privatization proposal, a few championing it. Bill thought of going up to speak, but all of the points he wanted to make had already been made, and there wasn't really anything fresh he could bring to the discussion. He was glad, though, that so many people were speaking out. It was about time the citizens of Juniper started getting involved in this, started taking some responsibility for what was happening to their community.

He expected the issue to be carried over to the next meeting. It was an important topic, a major decision. But an hour later, the mayor read aloud the proposal Keyes had submitted and without any further discussion said, "I make a motion that we accept the proposal as is."

"I think we should take some time to study this proposal," Palmyra said.

"We should at least let the finance department and the police chief have a look at it and see if they have anything to add or amend."

The mayor ignored him. "Do I hear a second?"

"I second the motion," Bill Reid said.

"Let's vote."

The resolution passed, four to one, Councilman Palmyra voting no.

Bill sat, stunned. That was it? One quick vote and The Store was now in charge of the town's police department? That didn't seem possible. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem legal.

The reaction of the audience was subdued. "Stunned silence," Bill would have called it, but he was not sure how much of it was shock and how much was fear. This was a historic moment they were witnessing here tonight. The dismantling of local government, elected government, the transference of the mantle of power from the people to The Store.

He was not surprised when Keyes again approached the podium.

"Ralph Keyes," he said. "Representative of The Store, 111 Highway 180."

The pale man shuffled once more through his papers. "By our calculations, the town could save additional money by contracting out the fire department as well.

I have here a proposal by which The Store agrees to finance the Juniper Fire Department and take over all administrative duties while leaving the existing prevention and suppression programs intact . . ."

The debate this time was not as loud, not as long, and for a brief moment after the discussion in the audience had ended and Keyes had once again taken his seat, Bill was afraid no one would get up and speak against the new proposal.

Then Doane stood, walked to the podium.

He had not known that the music store owner was at the meeting, but Bill felt a surge of pride as he watched the long-haired man stride up to the front of the chambers. Doane had no fear, was more than willing to speak his mind and state his opinion on any issue, and he was perfectly capable of giving the council what for. Bill smiled as Doane tilted the microphone up to accommodate his height and brushed a wisp of hair from his eyes. This was one of his people, and he had never felt as much a part of the town as he did at this moment.

"My name is Doane Kearns," he said loudly and forcefully. "My address is Lot 22, Creekside Acres --"

"Creekside Acres is an unincorporated area," the mayor interrupted. "You do not live in Juniper and therefore cannot comment on town matters."

"I work in Juniper. I own a business in Juniper."

"I'm sorry. The rules clearly state --"

"Fuck the rules," Doane said.

There was silence in the council chambers.

"I have something to say, and I'm going to say it. Mr. Mayor --" He pointed. "You, sir, are selling this town down the river."

"You're out of line, Mr. Kearns."

"In fact, I think you'd peddle your own mama's ass to AIDS-infected convicts if The Store told you to."

The mayor's face grew red and strained, but his voice remained calm, even, only a slight hint of anger seeping through. "Jim?" He motioned toward the lone uniformed policeman stationed next to the door. "Please escort Mr. Kearns from the council chambers."

Doane's microphone had been cut off, but he continued to speak, raising his voice so it could be heard above the growing buzz of the audience. "You're letting them _buy_ our government. I thought this was supposed to be a democracy. I thought the people were supposed to decide how money should be raised, how it should be spent, what the function of the town government is. . . ."

The policeman reached Doane, reluctantly motioned for him to leave.

"I'm going!" Doane cried. "But remember this! I was silenced! The Store and their puppets silenced me and kept me from participating in participatory democracy!"

"I'll remember it," Ben said quietly, writing in his notebook.

The policeman led Doane out of the council chambers.

The mayor and the council did not even ask if there were any more speakers. The mayor made his motion, they voted on the proposal without discussion, and the fire department was contracted out to The Store.

"Meeting adjourned," the mayor said.

Discussions in the parking lot afterward were loud and probably would have become violent had there not been policemen present. Forest Everson stopped a fight between a Store custodian and an off-duty firefighter. Ken Shilts stepped between two women before they came to blows.

Bill walked with Ben out to his car. "How can anyone support The Store after this?"

The editor shrugged. "The Store's our major employer."

"So?"

"It's the old A-Rising-Tide-Lifts-All-Boats theory."

"Analogies." Bill shook his head. "I hate analogies. What if I don't buy the idea that the economy is analogous to a tide or that people are analogous to boats? What if I don't think those are valid comparisons? Or what if I concede the tide but think that people are more like shacks on the water's edge that are going to be destroyed by a rising tide?"

"You can't use logic. Analogies aren't logical. They fool simpletons into thinking they're logical, but the only thing they're good for is transforming complex ideas into easily understandable scenarios for dimwits."

They paused next to Ben's car. "So what happens next?"

"I don't know," the editor admitted. "In a big city, the police and fire associations would be on this like white on rice. They'd be filing motions and legal briefs from now till Tuesday, trying to get the courts to prevent this from happening. In Juniper, our combined police and fire department is -- what? -- twenty men? Not enough power. Not enough leverage."