The replay of Mason Alexander’s speech ended, and Bazir Malek waived his hand and muted the vid screen. A news channel continued on in silence. Images of the evening’s attack flashed by as the ticker at the bottom of the screen listed fifty three people dead, and one hundred twenty seven injured. Reshmina, Bazir’s wife, stood quietly next to his chair.
“Well?” Roger Bishop, Bazir’s campaign manager asked.
“He has a way with words.” Bazir replied quietly.
“That’s no surprise. We knew he has charisma on his side. But Bazir, you know that was all staged, right?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
“Then how? Explain that to me. Explain to me, how it matters if the speech was staged. Explain to me how it matters if the audience’s reaction was staged?” Bazir rose from his seat. “Explain to me, Roger, how any of that matters, when he can weave together such words, and create such passion in the hearts of men. Explain to me, if you would, how we have even the remotest chance to win this election, when even I was inspired by his words.”
“Look, Bazir-”
“No, Roger. You look. The first debate is in a matter of days. Tell me how I will face this man, with his innate ability to string together words that will cause voters to rise up and storm the polls on his behalf. What is your answer to this, Roger?”
“Bazir.” Reshmina said softly.
“No, Reshmina. Let Mr. Bishop provide his answer.”
“Bazir, it was just one speech. At their convention no less. You know how it is. At our own convention wasn’t the crowd cued on when to cheer, when to applaud?” Roger stood up. “It’s all a big production. A theatrical show! You know this.”
“Yes. This I know. But the passion which his words evoked...”
“Bazir, my love. Your own words carry that same passion.” Reshmina said as she touched his arm. He looked up into her dark eyes. She smiled warmly.
“Ah, Reshmina. I take comfort from you.” He turned away from her, and approached Roger. “Mr. Bishop. We must begin our preparation for the upcoming debate immediately. There is no time to waste when there is such a worthy opponent.”
“No problem, Bazir. I have things scheduled to begin first thing in the morning. We’ll be using the same training platform that we used for you to rehearse your convention speech.” Bazir looked up at him.
“I do not like this system.” He said.
“But Bazir, it’s just a simulation. And we-”
“I know what it is, Mr. Bishop. That does not mean that I like it. I do not trust this thing.” Reshmina stepped over to Bazir.
“Bazir,” She began, “maybe this is for the best.”
“No, Reshmina.”
“Husband. Do you not wish to inspire the hearts of men?” She asked.
“But Reshmina-” Bazir began.
“Do you not think that your opponent will use every tool at his disposal?” She continued. “Do you not think that Mr. Alexander will be quite prepared for the debate?”
“No, Reshmina. I do not like-”
“Do you not think that if this system can benefit you, and that it may help you to better inspire the voters, that you should consider its use?”
“No!” Bazir exclaimed. “This...this system, this tool, it is a thing from the great satan. It is evil.” He said, shaking his head.
“Evil?” Asked Reshmina. “How can such a thing be evil, Bazir? It has no heart, no mind. It is not a man. It is simply a technology.”
“She’s right, Bazir.” Roger said.
“It is not a thing of Allah. It is evil.” Bazir reiterated.
“Husband, do you know that this is not of Allah? Has he spoken to you of such?”
“Watch your words, wife!” He exclaimed.
“Bazir,” She continued, “If Aisha herself had brought this technology to her beloved husband Muhammad, so that he might spread the word of Allah, would it then be evil?”
“There was no such technology then. What use is this reasoning?”
“Bazir? Are you not doing the works of Allah? Are you not trying to save this nation on behalf of Allah? Are you not like Muhammad?” He turned and met her eyes. Her sincerity was evident in her expression.
“Look, guys. It’s just an interface. You know, like a keyboard. It’s not really a big deal.” Roger said, obviously thinking that Bazir was over the top with his concern. Bazir sighed.
“Perhaps you are right Reshmina.” He turned back to Roger. “Tomorrow then, Mr. Bishop.” Roger smiled.
“Great!” He said. “I just received an updated plugin for the debate prep last night. So...in the morning? Say nine?” Bazir nodded. “Great. See you then. Reshmina.” He said with a nod her way, and then left the room.
“A peculiar man.” Bazir said.
“True.” Reshmina agreed, nodding her head. “But necessary.” She sat down in the chair across from him. “Bazir?”
“Yes?”
“This attack...” She said, waiving her hand towards the vid screen. His expression clouded.
“No.” He said.
“No?”
“No. It is not of our doing.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” He looked down for moment, and then back into her eyes. “No. I am not certain. In today’s world, how can any man be certain of such things.” He rose up and stepped over to the vid screen. Video of the dead lined up in front of the great hall shot from the news drones streamed on the screen. He shook his head. “If our people were responsible for this...the battle may already be lost. Reshmina, I pray it was not our brethren.” She rose, stepped over to him, and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.
“As do I, husband. As do I.”
Chapter 3