He followed Specks up the staircase to the second floor and, looking at the room numbers, found that there were even ones on one side of the hall and odd on the other, just as house addresses on a street. So, counting seven rooms on his left he easily found 214. Entering, he saw Specks at his table in front of the class and that he seemed to be the last kid to enter. Looking around, he saw one open desk, all the way in the back. Liam used his peripheral vision to see who his fellow classmates were as he went to the desk. He could recognize most of them, even if he didn't personally hang with them. They were either in AP classes at the old school, classes he never got grades high enough to get into, or were in the rich, elite clique, the snobs he distained. He was beginning to wonder how he was going to fit in with them.
Specks cleared his throat as soon as the bell rang. "Welcome. Ah…let's...yes, well, let me tell you…um…how I'm excited to be here...here with all of you! We're all going to find – I…er…hope you will - that this year will be most interesting! You've been chosen by the powers-that-be to learn — of course, learn, that's why you're here — not only a course of…of…study appropriate to your talents, but also…um…how to be, some day…ah…management in your particular field of expertise. You'll note in the…um…class schedule I'll be…ah… giving each of you that you'll be taking some business classes along with…er…ah…your academics."
The boy sitting in front of him, his name was Stan something Liam thought he remembered, raised his hand and was recognized by Specks. "Can’t we choose any of our classes, like electives?"
"Sorry…ah…no…classes are as assigned…ah…as I said — I did say, didn't I, — by the powers-that-be?"
Another hand. A girl on the opposite side of the room that he knew, named Mary J. asked, "Who are these 'powers-that-be'?"
Specks became more agitated than usual, as if he was personally being challenged. "Those who know better than you about what's best for you and society! Your teachers, counselors, and the administration, in consultation with the district, based entirely on staff recommendations and the results of the battery of aptitude tests you took last week, have determined your course of study!"
Liam found it curious that not once in Speck's outburst did he once say an “ah”, “er” or an "um”.
Cowed into submission, there were no other questions, and Specks stood up and began to pass out to each student their class schedule. As Liam accepted his he looked up at Specks, who wiggled his eyebrows at him. What could that mean? Liam wondered. Looking at his classes, he began to understand. Out of homeroom and the three periods at this school, two were with Specks, homeroom and English. Liam didn't know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, this gave him lots of access to Speck. On the other hand, it would be difficult to do anything without Specks knowing about it. This schedule had obviously been arraigned so that they would be in close, daily contact. He wasn't sure he was at all comfortable with it. Looking at his schedule again, he saw that his third period, counting homeroom, was Government, and the fourth was Business, both with a Mr. Johnson. At least it wasn't Specks.
Just then, the bell rang signaling the end of homeroom. Since the schedule noted that his next class was English in this very room, he remained seated. As most all the others left the room, he looked up and saw Specks smile at him. He thought he might take the opportunity to ask about whom Mr. Johnson was, but didn't have the chance to as the first period students started filing into the room.
Once everyone was seated, he was disappointed to see that Carol wasn't in the class with him. The bell rang to begin class. Specks introduced himself and had a girl who had sat up front pass out the class syllabus. He half-listened as Specks gave the same speech he had at homeroom (except for the 'powers-that-be' part!) Browsing the syllabus, he was surprised to see that most of it contained reading of current events from business newspapers and various periodicals, with lectures in critical thinking and composition. He thought that this might be an interesting class as he liked reading and writing, and always thought himself a logical thinker. Of course, how interesting depended on how Specks led the class. He wasn't too concerned. He'd had learned from a friend that had Specks for English Literature last year that Specks had made all those at first dull 18th and 19th century novels interesting by showing how, despite the archaic style of prose, the people in the stories and what they did wasn't any different than those in the books of today.
It wasn't long before the bell sounded to end the class. Specks was the first out of the room, much to Liam’s chagrin; he'd wanted to have a word with him about "Baker Street."
He hurriedly pushed through the crowd of students, both those trying to leave to go to their next period’s room and the first of the next group to enter this room, so that he could perhaps catch up with Specks. As he entered the hallway, he looked in both directions. He couldn't find him in the sea of kids who moved like a slow river, running in two directions at the same time, with an eddying whirlpool right in front of the door. He did see Carol, however, and called out her name, almost yelling to be heard above the tidal roar of voices. She heard him and, looking around to find him, saw him and made her way against the current. Finally, they grabbed each other, her body pressed into his, as they were pinned together against the wall by the swell of students. They both said, "Hi".
"What have you next period?" Carol asked.
"Government, then Business. You?"
"Economics, then Psychology. Looks like the only time we'll see each other is in the halls."
"I've been trying to speak to Specks all morning, but it's as if he's ducking me. I'm going to see him even if I have to stay late after school."
“You can't," she reminded him. “You've another school to get to."
"Right! Forgot. I'll call you tonight. We'd better get to our next class."
Reluctantly, they let their bodies separate from each other (but not before he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek), said their “Goodbyes,” and headed off.
He found his Government class and entered the room just as the bell rang. Again, being the last into the room, the only desk available was in the back.
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. MacDonald. Try not to cut it so close next time, will you? I like to start my classes as soon as the bell rings."
As he took his seat, he thought Johnson's voice sounded familiar. Johnson introduced himself and, as he began explaining the class, Liam realized why Johnson's voice had sounded familiar. He's the one Specks was talking to, about me , earlier! He sat up and started listening.
“All of you have been selected to attend this school because of your aptitude tests and parent’s careers, either in business or government. Both factors suggest promising achievements for you in either of these areas. If you meet expectations, your accomplishments will benefit the next and future generations.”
"This class, Government, and the next class for all of you, Business, will be taught by me in this same room. Therefore, we’ll be mixing the two together over the two hours. Now, when the bell rings, I expect you to stay in your seats unless you need a potty-call, for which you will go directly to and return directly from, with no stops in-between. That understood?
“Now then, we will study the Constitution and the laws that have followed it. And we'll study Business, with emphasis on some of those laws, trade agreements, the effects of unionism, and which of them are detrimental and need to be altered or eliminated, so that America — American Business', I should say — will not only maintain international leadership, but will regain supremacy above all others.
“To begin, I quote President Calvin Coolidge: 'The business of America is business'. To this end, the Constitution, or rather, fortunately, the Supreme Court's interpretation of it, as well as statute passed by Congress, defines a corporation as a legal ‘person’ and gives corporations virtually the same rights as people. In your text books you'll find the applicable court case. Hint: 1880’s. They even ha
ve the right to vote, in some arenas. One thing they cannot do is vote in political elections, by ballot that is. However, they have many times, when it was in their and, therefore, our best interests, decided the outcome of a campaign, or swayed the voting in legislative bodies through such things as Political Action Committees, simply known as PACs, to insure that profits aren't sacrificed on the altar of godless Communist social egalitarianism. You have been chosen to be trained to insure this never happens, to become the next generation of leaders of both industry and government because, as Norman Cousins observed, 'Government in the U.S. today is a senior partner in every business in the country'. Succeed, and you will wield untold power over the 'Great Unwashed' masses beneath you. Not to mention, great personal wealth. Now, who among you doesn't aspire to fame and fortune? If there is anyone here that doesn't, then perhaps a mistake has been made and, if so, a transfer back to your old school can be arranged where, at best, you'll learn a trade that will allow you to become an employee to someone in this class."
Liam looked around the room and saw most of his classmates actually looked happy with what they'd heard. The first part that is. A couple acted with indifference. Their families have probably already made or inherited their fortune, he thought. Only one or two seemed to be as confused with it as he was, or as unsettled at the last part.
He knew he couldn't help but say something. Without raising his hand, he found himself standing. "I find it morally wrong that my friends at the other school are being made into a servant class designed to make me rich at their expense, their education limited to whatever the ‘powers-that-be’ ordain, while I'm groomed to be their master. I thought this country fought a civil war to abolish slavery, and two world wars to end this kind of fascism. This whole thing isn't just wrong, it's un-American! Businesses don't need less regulation, apparently they need more. America is becoming a Corporate Oligarchy! And..."
"THAT WILL BE ENOUGH!" Johnson yelled, and going to the door, opened it wide.
The kid in front of Liam turned in his seat and asked him, “What’s a ‘Corporate Oligarchy’?”
“Government run by, and for, big business and their sycophant partners, the politicians. The average citizen becomes their slave and piggy-bank to rob”.
The kid stared blankly at Liam. “Sika-what?”
“ Sigh-kuh-fant. Means ‘kiss-ass’”.
"MacDonald, you're with me, NOW! The rest of you", Johnson ordered the class, "begin reading in your text, starting with chapter one!"
As Liam walked slowly to the front of the room he continued, “Yeah, and read about that court case. Chief Justice Waite’s court also voted against women’s rights, and he was appointed by President Grant, a serious alcoholic, who had the most corrupt administration in our history!”
Johnson quickly moved to where Liam was standing and addressing the class, pushed him out of the door, forcibly grabbed him by the upper arm, and marched him down the hall.
Stopping at room 214, he stuck his head in. "Mr. Specks? A moment, please?"
Specks stepped out, and seeing Johnson manhandling Liam, asked, "Good God. What's happened?"
"Can't discuss it here in the hallway. Put your class into self-study and follow me to S-1."
Liam attempted to free himself by pulling his arm from Johnson's grasp, but he only held tighter until Liam quit struggling because of the pain inflicted on his biceps. "That’s better, boy. If you don't want your little girl friend to join us, you'll come along quietly, yeah?"
He yielded. He didn't know what Johnson was going to do with him, but he definitely wanted Carol left out of it.
They went down the stairwell to the first floor, past the office, until they came to a small closet-like door just inside the main entrance doors. Opening it, Johnson thrust him through, almost causing him to fall headlong down a narrow staircase. Catching himself, he walked down, closely followed by Johnson who, at the landing, fished in his pocket and pulled out a key and unlocked the door marked "S-1 Boiler Room" opposite the staircase, jerked open the massive metal door and heaved Liam into the room so hard that he fell and sprawled on the floor. He sat up and they glared at each other in silence.
Less than a minute had passed when there was a faint knock on the door. Johnson again used the key to unlock it and Liam noted that the lock was a double deadbolt, requiring a key to open either side, and which apparently automatically locked when shut. Specks entered.
With a hushed voice, as if they might be overheard, he asked Johnson, "What’s happened?"
"Your young friend here is a bit of a rebel. Seems to think our program too unpalatable for his tastes. Started mouthing off. Had to stop him before he could persuade the others. It seems someone made the wrong choice choosing him to be here”.
"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. Perhaps it was something in your delivery. Allow me to speak to him".
"You've got some minutes until the period is over, and then you've a free period, correct? I'll see to dismissing your class and then I'll be back at the end of my next. You have until then," Johnson said as he again unlocked and opened the door. Shutting it, Liam heard the lock click.
Liam picked himself up off the floor. "Well?" he asked Specks.
"Liam, let me explain what Mr. Johnson apparently did so badly. Try to understand. Your father knows business and why it is so important that we have the right people running things. You could be like your father, a major influence on how things get done. Listen, our way of life is under attack. Other countries are invading our shores. Oh, not with armies and guns and such, but with products and services that we can't compete against under current conditions. There are too many regulations, taxes, and worker demands. If we want to keep the standard of living we have been accustomed to, and deserve, as Americans, we need to fight fire with fire. We need our workers to understand that they need to work harder…and for less. A strong Corporate America creates jobs. If we loose the economic war our corporations will fail and those foreign companies will make us just another third world nation, providing cheap labor to others."
Liam was surprised to hear that his dad was a businessman andnot government. What’s all that ‘Need to know’ stuff about? But he also knew that his dad firmly believed that businesses and government should be concerned with helping people have a better life. He couldn’t take Speck’s perverted propaganda. “I’ll bet you actually believe that! And the ‘standard we deserve’? Why do we ‘deserve’ the highest infant death rate in the industrial world, or one third of our children going to bed hungry every night, or an educational system that’s barely above middle, internationally? Some ‘standard’ that is!”
“The first two are social issues and are not the concern of business,” Specks spat out. “And there are always more positions at the bottom of a business than there are at the top. We already have too many over-educated people. Not everyone needs to be well-educated, let alone go to college.”
“Who says? Are the rich and powerful afraid to share in the ‘American Dream?’ And who says Corporate America creates jobs?” Liam demanded. “Not for Americans! You know, I had to write a paper in school about this. Guess what I learned? American corporations have over the last twenty-odd years out-sourced millions of jobs out of this country to some foreign overseas branch of their company, and the profits they make there never come back here so that they can be taxed to help the country that gave them birth. Because of that, millions can't find a job and one American goes bankrupt every three minutes because they've been laid off by a business that sees getting rid of workers, and not hiring here in the good old US of A, as easy ways to make more money. All the while, corporations are making surplus profits in the billions and CEOs are given tens of millions in pay, bonuses and stock every year. And to add insult to injury, when families lose their jobs, their health insurance or their retirement program, and have spent all their savings and are falling behind in making
their house payments, that nest of vultures they call ‘banks’ come and kick them out of their homes!”
“What’s your point, MacDonald?”
“I learned more. In 2010, half of all American workers made less than twenty-six and a half thousand dollars that year. The average Fortune 500 CEO got almost eleven and a half million — almost four hundred and thirty times more! When the unemployment rate rose to over nine percent, the number of millionaires went up eighteen percent. And most of our corporations now have more interests overseas than they have here. Seems to me that for many Americans, we're a third world country already, providing cheap labor to those we work for, provided we have a job, and all the wealth is held in the hands of those lucky enough to rule. Hell, the top one percent of all Americans controls eighty percent of the wealth in this country and makes forty-five percent of all income. Seems to me that all our problems are the fault — not of some foreign enemy — but of our own super rich! It's the amoral selfish greed I can't stand, and I don’t think Johnson was saying anything he didn’t mean, especially about perpetuating a wealthy and powerful elite at the expense of others.”
“What are you, some sorta Socialist Commie?”
“Actually, Socialism, as practiced in Scandinavia for example, is a democracy where everyone has a say in how their economy works. Communism, if you look at the old Soviet Union and North Korea for example, is actually conservative, in practical terms, where only a few, those in power, a dictatorship by committee, have a say in who gets what. You know, like what you and your corporate masters want? I guess that sorta makes you the Communist! I’m more in the middle of those two examples, a Progressive in the vein of both Republican Teddy Roosevelt and his Democratic cousin FDR, who believed in democracy, and economically in the free market, but also believed that the wealthy should give from what they’ve made off everyone else, to those who now have need. You know what Thomas Jefferson once said? He noted, even in his own day at the beginning of this country, that, ‘Experience demands that man is the only animal which devours his own kind, for I can apply no milder term to the general prey of the rich on the poor’. I guess nothing has changed much. And since the powerful rich won’t voluntarily give up any of their wealth — there’s that ‘selfish greed’ again — they need help. You know, regulated businesses, meaningful progressive taxes on both corporate and personal income, and spending on people’s needs? I don’t want to punish the rich, but they are they ones best able to help the country. The poor sure can’t, and what’s left of the middle class are living on the edge of the slippery slope to poverty. Bottom line, I don’t mind having less, if it means someone else can have more than nothing. And neither should anyone else, if they have a heart and soul. The Progressives may not always get it done well, but at least they try to help others, which is more than you can say for all those ‘compassionate conservatives’ who pay lip-service to their compassion for the needy. Oh, they’re passionate enough, passionate to their own need to get richer!”
"Well, aren't you both knowledgeable and the eloquent orator?" Specks noted with genuine appreciation. "You really should go into politics, though I dare say you'd probably find it as distasteful as you apparently do of business."
"Yeah well, I do read a lot and pay attention to what’s going on in the world. Oh, I'd like politics, so I could do something to help those that need help, but I dare say my campaign would get nowhere, because all the corporate bribes — I'm sorry, ‘campaign contributions’ — would go to my opponent".
"Too true! Right you are, about that. And call me ’greedy’ if you like, but I want more than I get as a schoolteacher. Or as a Circle member. Hell, people pay their plumbers more than they’re willing to pay their kid’s teachers.”
“So, what’s your role in all of this?” Liam demanded. “How come you’re on the Circle?”
"We, that is, Smith and I, have led your dupe of a father and all the others like him to believe that your little 'assignment' to find out what's going on with all the changes in education is of minor importance compared to whatever else the Circle is involved in. In fact, it is one of the more important things the Circle is trying to decipher. My actual job is to keep them from finding out the truth."
"You're a Quisling!"
"Poor choice of terms. A 'Quisling' is a citizen of an enemy-occupied nation who collaborates with the occupying enemy. On the contrary, I’m working for America. I'm a patriot!"
"Not in my book!" answered Liam.
Chapter Fifteen: Trapped
“Where there is no vision, there is no hope.”