#9
View attachment 416129
August, 1981
The president stares at a blackboard covered with chicken scratch and leafs through a briefing booklet. He has been listening patiently. Usually he loves to hear people of great intelligence talk about things they’re passionate about, and he’s let these physicists go on for a while now. They started out with nickle words, gauging his interest and abilities. Somehow they’ve mistaken his silence for enthusiasm, and now it’s ten-dollar words from every mouth in the room. “Amplified spontaneous emission” has been uttered more than once. And the guy in the back really likes the sound of, “capillary plasma-discharge media.” He looks up from his notes to see that the spiel seems to be over. They’re all looking at him intently now.
“...So...it’s a laser gun?”
“Yes, Mr. president.”
“...A laser gun in space? A space laser?”
“Essentially, Mr. president.”
He pauses to consider the blackboard.
“Well. Thank you gentlemen. You have another meeting with just the Secretary and his people next week, I believe. I look forward to hearing what he has to say.”
The usual pleasantries as they leave. President Anderson turns to his chief of staff.
“Bill.”
“I know, sir.”
“Just keep it off my desk from now on. Throw them some research money, fine, but do you realize what a laughing stock I’d be if I made space lasers a central plank of my defense policy?”
“It’s handled.”
“Good. What’s next?”
“A favor for Slade Gorton. We promised him an informal ten minutes with him and some people from Boeing. They wanted one last chance to change your mind on these weapons projects.”
Anderson has gotten really good at rolling his eyes since he took office.
“Fine. Let’s go explore new and exciting ways to tell them, ‘no.’”
----
Just a standard meeting between a US Army general and a defense contractor’s lawyer. Nothing out of the ordinary for a cigar club in Washington DC, skirting the boundaries between official and casual, legal and illegal.
“I thought we could count on you on this.”
“You make me sound like a pusher. Like a salesman.”
“I never thought you were a salesman, just a patriot.”
That was a mistake. He knows it as soon as he says it.
“I do what my commander in chief orders me to do.”
“We both know there’s what he orders you to do and then there’s what you let him know you need to be ordered to do. You’ve always helped us show these politicians we have the country’s best interests at heart.”
“I think you’re confusing-”
“And I just want to know why things have changed now.”
“I think you’re confusing what my job is here. This is a civilian-led military, a sacred thing to a lot of us; I hope to you, too on some level. I hope you understand what that means. The president sets the mission, we tell him what we need, then we carry it out. When you’ve got a president who tells you we need to invade continental Europe, well you ask for what you need, you get your ships, your air cover, your concrete harbors, your mountains of supplies, all of it, then you go out and do it. When they tell you to fight a bush war, you ask for what you need- you certainly don’t ask for concrete harbors, no matter how much the workers in Allentown and Pittsburgh might want you to, let alone their bosses. And when Anderson tells me he wants better training, he wants a responsive military, he wants each soldier to be an effective fighting unit and to be able to meet five dozen different mission requirements at the drop of a hat, I know what to ask for. I’m sorry, Tim, I just don’t need what you’re selling.”
----
7th and Euclid
“EXTRY! EXTRY! Read all about it! New federal budget signed by Anderson! Defense spending trimmed by 5%! B-2 canceled! MX canceled! More money for training and troops!”
“You’re driving away the customers.”
“I am not.”
“They think it’s weird.”
“I am part of the neighborhood color.”
“You’re a weirdo.”
“EXTRY! The Reds are going to the series, mathematically impossible for the Phillies to catch them as of last night! EXTRY!”