don’t argue,” she said, “that it would be wonderful to unite all our energies in order to end this mess.” Her face had twisted into an almost misbegotten shape. “But government?”
Hektor nodded in the affirmative.
“How,” she continued, “do you know it’ll even work?”
“I don’t.”
“I mean you’re really going to put all that power into a bureaucrat’s hands and … and …” Irma stopped talking. A sly grin formed as she began to shake her head slowly. “You’re a real piece of work, Sambianco.”
Hektor got up from his chair and clapped his hands twice. “Bravo, Ms. Sobbelgé. Bravo. In a year’s time there is going to be a new President of the government. I intend to run for the office and win. And Irma, I’m going to need your help to do it.”
The Fifth Amendment to the Terran Confederation Constitution changing the preamble has passed. Ironically, it was only with the secession of the outer orbits that the three-fourths needed to pass it was obtained by the remaining areas of the Confederation. In related news, the province that formally made up the area of the Alaskan Federation has called a meeting of its legislature to announce plans for secession. Hektor Sambianco, Chairman of GCI, has arranged to speak to the Alaskan assembly to, in his words, “reason with them and turn back the Cordian challenge to the unity of the Earth itself.”
—Irma Sobbelgé
The Terran Daily News
Irma found herself standing in a cold, dank staircase nervously awaiting a speech. The building she’d entered had once been the city hall of Anchorage, Alaska. It had become over time as famous as Carpenters’ Hall in Philadelphia, home of the First Continental Congress of the United States of America. And it had become so by virtue of any number of historic speeches Tim Damsah, found er of the incorporation movement, had made from its hallowed halls. The building, she mused, was about as chilly as the surly audience now awaiting the Chairman in the filled-to-capacity auditorium. The edifice, she noted upon entering, was in the mode of classical architecture, including the small square-like protrusions beneath the cornices, the simulated two-tone rustic exterior walls, and the circular arched entranceway.
What had once housed everything from the mayor’s, police, and firemen’s offices to a jail with a drunk tank had now become the pivotal center for all things Political in the Alaskan territories. To night’s speech, as evidenced by the standing-room-only crowd, was expected to be one such event. Though Irma wasn’t giving the speech, she was nervous just the same. Over the past few weeks she’d busied herself subtly supporting the new Chairman’s every move. Choosing which stories to run and which to hold. Assigning skeptical reporters to puff pieces and pliable ones to critical events. To night’s was important enough that she’d chosen to cover it herself. And so she paced nervously at the foot of a staircase waiting for Hektor to show up. He’d said that he wanted to meet her briefly before speaking.
A side door squeaked open and a large burly man poked his head around, looked back, and then quietly entered. Hektor followed quickly and then another guard slipped in behind him. Both guards took up positions on either side of the door as Hektor made his way over to Irma. She smiled gravely.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, taking sips from a coffee cup she’d been using more as a hand warmer than a receptacle. “Let’s just say they’re not exactly a happy audience in there.”
Hektor could make out the sounds of the rumbling crowd on the other side of the door, but didn’t appear the least bit worried.
“Nice to see you too,” he answered.
“I don’t see how you can convince them to stay in the Confederation,” she replied, pointedly ignoring the Chairman’s stab at humor.
He looked at her, bemused. “I can’t.”
“So you’re here to see them secede and then be
Hektor nodded in the affirmative.
“How,” she continued, “do you know it’ll even work?”
“I don’t.”
“I mean you’re really going to put all that power into a bureaucrat’s hands and … and …” Irma stopped talking. A sly grin formed as she began to shake her head slowly. “You’re a real piece of work, Sambianco.”
Hektor got up from his chair and clapped his hands twice. “Bravo, Ms. Sobbelgé. Bravo. In a year’s time there is going to be a new President of the government. I intend to run for the office and win. And Irma, I’m going to need your help to do it.”
The Fifth Amendment to the Terran Confederation Constitution changing the preamble has passed. Ironically, it was only with the secession of the outer orbits that the three-fourths needed to pass it was obtained by the remaining areas of the Confederation. In related news, the province that formally made up the area of the Alaskan Federation has called a meeting of its legislature to announce plans for secession. Hektor Sambianco, Chairman of GCI, has arranged to speak to the Alaskan assembly to, in his words, “reason with them and turn back the Cordian challenge to the unity of the Earth itself.”
—Irma Sobbelgé
The Terran Daily News
Irma found herself standing in a cold, dank staircase nervously awaiting a speech. The building she’d entered had once been the city hall of Anchorage, Alaska. It had become over time as famous as Carpenters’ Hall in Philadelphia, home of the First Continental Congress of the United States of America. And it had become so by virtue of any number of historic speeches Tim Damsah, found er of the incorporation movement, had made from its hallowed halls. The building, she mused, was about as chilly as the surly audience now awaiting the Chairman in the filled-to-capacity auditorium. The edifice, she noted upon entering, was in the mode of classical architecture, including the small square-like protrusions beneath the cornices, the simulated two-tone rustic exterior walls, and the circular arched entranceway.
What had once housed everything from the mayor’s, police, and firemen’s offices to a jail with a drunk tank had now become the pivotal center for all things Political in the Alaskan territories. To night’s speech, as evidenced by the standing-room-only crowd, was expected to be one such event. Though Irma wasn’t giving the speech, she was nervous just the same. Over the past few weeks she’d busied herself subtly supporting the new Chairman’s every move. Choosing which stories to run and which to hold. Assigning skeptical reporters to puff pieces and pliable ones to critical events. To night’s was important enough that she’d chosen to cover it herself. And so she paced nervously at the foot of a staircase waiting for Hektor to show up. He’d said that he wanted to meet her briefly before speaking.
A side door squeaked open and a large burly man poked his head around, looked back, and then quietly entered. Hektor followed quickly and then another guard slipped in behind him. Both guards took up positions on either side of the door as Hektor made his way over to Irma. She smiled gravely.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, taking sips from a coffee cup she’d been using more as a hand warmer than a receptacle. “Let’s just say they’re not exactly a happy audience in there.”
Hektor could make out the sounds of the rumbling crowd on the other side of the door, but didn’t appear the least bit worried.
“Nice to see you too,” he answered.
“I don’t see how you can convince them to stay in the Confederation,” she replied, pointedly ignoring the Chairman’s stab at humor.
He looked at her, bemused. “I can’t.”
“So you’re here to see them secede and then be
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