Chapter 6 The Land Opportunity Picnic
That Saturday morning was the grand occasion of the Land Opportunity Picnic. The gala event, to which every citizen in the City had been invited, was planned by the City administration to show off the land outside the City that, after adoption of the Mayor’s Plan, would go up for sale; and so to promote Mayor Therion’s image. It doubled as a rally for his re-election, as even young Wisdom understood, and indeed no one made any attempt to hide it.
All the pages to the City Council had been instructed to arrive early, wearing their ID badges, in order to hand out promotional flyers and buttons to the crowds. Wisdom and Prevarica had been doing this for an hour, standing side by side on one of the green tarpaulins that had been laid down the night before, in apparent imitation of grass, on the largest flat area available in the very rough terrain. Beyond the tarps in every direction but the town spread the sand and rock of the true canyon lands, tumbled, broken, and without a wisp of vegetation. From some of the canyons a glow of underground fire was visible even in full daylight. Wisdom did not think it was just his imagination telling him that it was hotter out here than in the City.
On the comparatively tiny area of artificial greenness were large, colorful tents full of tables and chairs, an open-air cooking area, snack concessions, information booths, and a speakers’ platform. A high school band was playing the Mayor’s campaign song, and a choir stood by ready to sing it; for the agenda called for the rally first and eating afterward. The crowds had poured in along the rough road that had been opened from the City’s edge, brought in by City buses, for the space prepared for the picnic was inadequate for extensive parking. The limited parking area available was packed with official vehicles, including police cars and media vans.
Now that the buses were arriving less frequently, leaving more time available for talk, Wisdom looked at Prevarica but was unable to think of anything to say. Though they lived in the same neighborhood and had known each other for several years, he was shy of her, shy of her prettiness and sprightliness, and even more shy of her rottenness. Many another girl at school was selfish, gossiping, and heartless, but Prevarica stood out. Something about her was grotesque and nearly inhuman in a way that made keeping company even with Alexandra Disdain seem refreshing by comparison. Prevarica might say the same sort of things as Alexandra, might seem to have similar attitudes, and yet…. Once he had seen her take toys that belonged to her brother Rage, toys of no interest to her, and hide them in her bedroom. The point seemed to have been merely to cause Rage unhappiness and to have something to righteously deny after he had gone to their parents and accused her. When the theft had been proven against her, she had shown no remorse, not even a trace of embarrassment. She was like that. Again and again she hurt others when there was no conceivable gain to be had, unless you were to count the thrill of exercising ruthless power. That was Prevarica. And still, against all sense and prudence, he was infatuated with her.
To make some sort of conversation, he might have asked her about her increasingly odd way of dressing herself, but knew from experience that he would only make her angry. Everyone in school commented on it behind her back. It had started three years ago, when someone had noticed that she never wore shorts or a dress that showed her legs. Later she had begun wearing the long sleeves and light gloves at all times, even in hot sunshine, as it was today, and making the excuse of a skin condition. Today she had gone a step farther by wearing a light scarf around her neck. Wisdom had had hints from her brothers that there was no skin condition, but the boys had never made clear what her problem really was. When pressed, Plausible, the youngest, had merely laughed and said, “You’ll never see it.”
Finally he thought of something to say, though admittedly not something she would likely find interesting.
“I’ve been reading a book by Winston Churchill,” he began.
“You waste more time reading than anyone I know,” she said without emphasis. “Say, let me tell you a secret. Mr. Fear has promised me that I’ll get to meet the Mayor.”
Why this should be a secret, Wisdom could not guess, but he nodded affably.
“Who knows what might happen then?” she went on. “I don’t see why just councilmen should have pages. Why not the Mayor too, and why not me? I’m going to suggest it to him. Mr. Fear is all for it, and in fact it was his idea that I should be the first Mayor’s page. So what about that?”
Wisdom did not like being asked point blank to give his opinion of one of Prevarica’s fantasies. If he were to tell her, quite mildly, that this was unlikely, she would argue with him while throwing in additional lies. If he were to point out that Mr. Fear had no more thought of her becoming page to the Mayor than he had of growing rabbit ears and eating pencil erasers, she would really throw a fit.
“That would be really something,” he said, regretting slightly his lack of forthrightness. “Hey, what’s this?”
Into the hubbub of the Picnic had rolled a City ambulance and some additional police cars, sirens sounding and lights blinking. For many minutes the reason for their arrival was unknown. Finally, as they were driving out again past Wisdom and Prevarica, someone on the speakers’ platform spoke through the public address system, announcing that a picnicker had been taken to the hospital emergency room and that the identity and condition of the man were unknown.
As the choir was introduced and the rally began, Prevarica and Wisdom shifted closer to the platform and joined the many picnickers standing behind the too few folding chairs, all occupied. The choir, supplied by the Mammon Mart Community Church, launched into the Mayor’s campaign song:
We march and sing for Therion,
So heed the call that’s clarion.
Come join the crowd and carry on,
For he is no sectarian
But an Elk and a Rotarian!
His countenance Caesarian
And his love ubiquitarian
Are themes we love to vary on.
All nine verses were printed on the flyers Wisdom had been handing out. The song was followed by an over-lengthy introduction of the Mayor by a former mayor, now Councilman Strawman, a bald old man who had lost to Therion in the last election. His verbal fawning compared Therion favorably to Washington, Lincoln, Churchill, both Roosevelts, and an angel of particularly beneficent disposition. He closed by stating that, as an old friend and admirer of Therion, he was proud and happy to once again be running against him. He paused to bow to Therion, who was seated not far behind him. “It will be a pleasure to lose to you,” he said.
Therion smiled and raised one hand in a self-deprecatory fashion, as if to say that his old friend Strawman deserved the honor. Unlike his 3-D image, he still wore bandages on his head from his long-ago injury, and in fact was so heavily swathed above the brow that it seemed too great a weight for his neck. Under the turban his clean-shaven face was tanned and leanly handsome. His broad shoulders and narrow hips made him look, though he was in his forties, like a male model.
Strawman turned again to the crowd. “I just want to say, and I know I may get in trouble for this… Well, you’ve all noticed that the Mayor is recovering from a wound. What he’s been too humble to say, and what needs to be said, is how he got that wound. Some of us would have spoken up about this long ago, but we’ve only recently been given clearance by City Security.” He gestured toward Chief Sordid, who was also on the platform. “The fact is, the Mayor was hurt three years ago in a terrorist bombing.” He waited for the gasps and exclamations of the crowd to die down. “That’s right, there’s a small and pitiful sect in this City who will resort to anything, even the most cowardly means of warfare. But Mayor Therion is tough. He survived the assassination attempt, has all but recovered from his wound, and is ready to lead us like the war hero he truly is!” The crowd erupted in prolonged applause. “So let me introduce your Mayor. No one can make war with him. There’s no one like him!”
A newsp
aper reporter happened to be standing near Wisdom, and he noticed that she scribbled down the last few phrases.
As the applause swelled again, Therion rose. Rumors had abounded of his being physically weak, but his step today was firm, his expression confident. At the podium he paused to look around, with the manner of one thoroughly in control of his people, sure of their undivided love and support. Polls, Wisdom knew, showed this man with an 80% approval rating. He was king.
He leaned almost casually on the podium and spent a little time over the usual thanks and acknowledgements before truly beginning his speech. His foreign accent, always slight, had all but disappeared in the last few years; he sounded almost folksy.
“Well,” he drawled, “the craziest rumor I’ve heard lately is that the City is in debt to the fiends of Hell.” He laughed easily, and the crowd laughed with him. “Oh, yes. But, you know, if there is such a place, I think we can safely assume that they have other things to do than lend money. But in all seriousness, you and I know that the City has overspent—or rather that my predecessor Mayor Strawman overspent—and that it will take some time to put things right, and that we will have to practice austerity.”
The crowd was silent at the word austerity.
“Another rumor that hangs on (and this one just won’t die) is that there’s a, a what, Chief Sordid?” He looked to his security chief. “I think they’re saying a battleship, is that it? He’s nodding so that must be it. Some people have supposedly seen a Heavenite battleship on the west side of the City. Yes, that’s right, on land. The last I heard, Heaven was spiritual not metal. But for anyone who is worried, I have decided to declassify some information that will clear things up. That long white appearance on the west side, I want you to know, was erected by the City itself. Yes, it’s an intelligence agency building and lighted by City power. Chief Sordid wants me to warn you, for safety reasons, not to go near it.”
Prevarica gave Wisdom a triumphant look, for she had often told him that there was nothing at all on the western horizon but a bank of white clouds. Somehow, to her mind, her being flatly contradicted by the Mayor was a vindication. The important point was that the Mayor was saying Wisdom and his Heavenite friends and relatives were wrong about a battleship. So she had won. Prevarica, he knew by now, had all sorts of ways of imagining herself to be winning.
“No, despite all rumors I think we can safely say that the City is threatened by nothing and no one,” Therion continued. “The City has everything, answers everything, is everything.” He waited for applause to diminish. “The only thing that needs to be added is that there are, however, certain befuddled enemies of the City, a tiny cult calling themselves Heavenites, who babble among themselves about a coming invasion. They are more to be pitied than feared.”
“Did they throw the bomb at you, Mayor?” someone shouted from the crowd, clearly referring to the explosion that had wounded Therion.
“The investigation is ongoing,” Therion continued without a pause. “Sorry, citizen, but I can’t say anything at this time. But let me now return to that dismal word austerity. None of us want to hear it, but I can at least say that it need not last much longer. Soon, very soon…”
The crowd applauded and the band began to play softly and on cue.
“Soon the Mayor’s Plan will begin, pending approval by the City Council. Soon the City limits will be extended five miles in every direction, and this huge annexation…” From here on he was interrupted repeatedly by applause. “This annexation will be sold at attractive prices. Who to? Why, to you if you want. This sale will both bring in an immediate fortune for the City…and permanently increase the property tax base. These picnic grounds you are standing on are part of the sale. I am going to be followed at this podium by several experts who will explain it all in detail and answer any worries or objections. These are the brains, folks. I couldn’t even remember it all. So I’m about done here, but I do have a short announcement that Chief Sordid asked me to include. Yes, here it is.” He placed a scrap of paper on top of his speech notes. “The regular police have been augmented by a voluntary citizens’ patrol, due to begin their duties next week. Now on to the details about the Plan that you’ve been waiting to hear. Always remember, you are the City!”
As Therion took his seat, the band music swelled to full volume and there was a release of hundreds of balloons from behind the platform.
Councilman Strawman took the microphone again and waited for the cheering to die down. “This is being compared to the Louisiana Purchase,” he said. “Vast acres opened up for the good of the people. But this is even better because the city didn’t have to buy the land from anyone.”
Wisdom felt that he knew why the City had been able to annex the surrounding land with no hint of opposition or legal hassles. It was for the same reason that the land had lain unclaimed for as long as anyone could remember. The land was worthless.