The smell of the fireworks drifting down the lawn into the colonnades of the Executive Mansion put Roosevelt in mind of a battlefield. It was extraneous to the peaceful, joyous scene of well-dressed, well-fed gentlemen that he was hosting today. Like most such events, it bored him. Escaping from the stifling heat of candlelit rooms with the end of the formal dinner, the president made his way out into the thick, smoky summer air of the garden. After a minute, Vice President Fairbanks joined him. They had things to discuss.
“So” he asked, puffing on his cigar, “what did you think of the kaiser?”
“A promising young man.”, the president said, looking out over the lawn. “Quite remarkable. Though I'd say he doesn't get out as much as he ought to. He's pale, and a bit on the weak side.”
“Well, he was injured quite badly.” Fairbanks objected.
Roosevelt grunted noncommittally. “I guess so. Still, he could be getting more exercise. Lazing about like that is not going to do him any favours. Mind, he's smart and strong-willed. Maybe he'll snap out of it yet.”
The vice president nodded, dropping the subject. “What about his political views, though?”
Roosevelt mildly shook his head. “Charles, you need to stop thinking about work every moment of the day.” he chuckled. “I saw him for maybe an hour, in an unofficial capacity. Do you honestly think we talked politics? Much more important to get the measure of the man than the content of his diplomatic writs, surely.”
“Fair enough.” The cigar bruned down, Fairbanks ground the stub underfoot. “So what did you talk about?”
“He talked mostly about America, actually.” The president sounded amused. “Quite impressed, he was. Sometimes he sounded right like a schoolboy. I suppose trhe skyscrapers of New York left a mark on him. He was also talking about that Hollerith fellow. Seriously, would you imagine? He comes down to Washington for a one-day visit, and he calls on the White House and the Tabulating Machine company! That's Kaiser Wilhelm for you. He loves everything shiny and modern. Gave the man a medal, I heard. Hollerith almost burst with pride.”
Fairbanks stroked his moustache. “Not what you'd expect from a European monarch, is he?”
“Nope. The Society hostesses of New York are in despair over his erratic habits, and of course they can't well tell him what to do. Lovely story, he was two hours late for dinner the first day because he demanded a tour of Grand Central Station. I think he'd do fine in this country, actually. A bit effeminate, coddled, but folk like that can still thrive back east. He knows his stuff, you know. Real engfineering, I mean. Not just dreaming about miracle machines. He has a good grounding in science. A pity he doesn't believe in the human factor.”
“It is. And what does he say about the war?”
“He seems unconcerned. As he should be.” Roosevelt took a few steps out onto the lawn and stretched. “The Germans have already won, really. It's just a question of how much they can extract from the Russians at this point. They'll need their pound of flesh, too, with all the money they've spent. I'm getting the figures tomorrow. Don't suppose we could try to broker a peace, do you?”
“Like the Italians did for the Japs? We might. It sounds like a good idea, though the big industrialists will howl.” Fairbanks shrugged. American trusts were earning good money selling war material to both sides. As far as they were concerned, the war might as well go on another few years, though they hollered for the navy every time a Russian or German cruiser so much as came near the ports they delivered to.
“Let's keep it in mind. That fellow is going to shock a few people, you know. He was talking to me about the American volunteers he picked up for his army, Negro muleskinners, they hired them right off the farms and sent them off to Germany with shiploads of American mules. I figured he'd go on complaining, but he was full of praise for them. Wanted to know how we managed the negro population so well.” He laughed. “Wants to meet Mr Washington, too. That should ruffle a few feathers.”
The reverberations from Roosevelt's own meeting with Booker T. Washington had not quite died down yet. If a foreign head of state was to meet the leader of the race... the Southern press would have conniptions.
“Anyways, we should keep him happy easily enough. He's a good man. Sees a great future for his country, once Russia is defeated, a country for all Germans, run along modern lines. I've said it before, Charles, we can both learn a lot from each other. The way they manage their civil service, for example. I'll be quite embarrassed to show him ours, to tell you the truth.”
Fairbanks drew his lacket more tightly around his shoulders. The evening cool was finally setting in. “Do you think he can do it?”
“If anyone can, yes.” The president sounded quite convinced. “He understands machines. I wish he understood men better, but you know, in a German that is probably less of a fault than it would be in an American. And he has a will to be reckoned with. The best kind of support you can hope for, too. Had a confidential reporet from Admiral Evans yesterday, about the state of his navy ships. He was at sea escorted by a couple of second-line cruisers. Evans says they're top-notch, the officers very well trained, the men eager and disciplined. He'd hate to fight them.”
“Fight them?” The vice president was startled. “Why on earth?”
Roosevelt shrugged. “We had better be ready in case. I'm sure the Russians had no proper plans for fighting the Japs, and see where it got them. Germany is about the only real friend Britain has left, and things haven't exactly been peachy of late. If London keeps boosting the Japs, or interferes in the Caribbean... it'd be stupid, but stupid wars have been fought before. Just because everybody loves the germans now that they're standing up to the tyrant Czar doesn't mean they'll love them tomorrow the Manila squadron has to fight their cruisers in Tsingtao.”
“God help us if we have to.” Fairbanks muttered.
“God help them, too, Charles.” Roosevelt said. “Don't worry too much. We won't let that happen. Let's go in. My cigar is all used up, and I could use some more to drink.”