Solar Minimum, Page 2

“The chair recognizes the distinguished Senator from WY-omin’. Senator, you have 15 minutes.”

  The Speaker’s curt and defamatory demeanor was nothing new to Senator Leroy Guiscard, the most senior of all congressmen in the year 2040. They had locked horns many times on various issues and it was no secret that Senator Guiscard or Gus as his friends knew him didn’t have any affection for the Speaker either. In this modern day and age, politeness of speech was a rarity anyway and the social graces of only 10 years ago were painfully missing from society especially for those who had been taught better manners. Walking slowly to the lectern, Gus took his reading glasses out of his suit pocket and clumsily fitted them to his aged face and tucked his medium-length grey hair behind his ears. Reaching the platform, he shuffled his notes, placing a full page of bulleted points on top, cleared his throat and looked over the rim of his glasses onto the ill-attended 126th Congress of the United States.

  Gus’s professional demeanor and his respect for his office would not allow him to be anything but professional and respectful. As the most senior congressman, he also felt a responsibility to set an example for the juvenile opportunists that seemed to flock to congress these days.

  “Thank you Mr. Speaker. Thank you my distinguished colleagues.” He looked at the first bullet point on his notes and paused. The last 26 months of his life had been spent creating this list which was the result of countless meetings usually running into the wee hours of the morning, but what he wanted to say this late afternoon had little to do with the notes in front of him. He now only hoped that his speech would not be received as the insipid ramblings of a tired, old man.

  Gus was seen as a fossil in the Senate, respected by most but often-times viewed as eccentric but well-meaning. The issues he championed seemed unimportant and less worthy of the Senate’s time especially on this day. His allotted time had been squeezed in at the end of a very long and intense day of deliberation and many senators had already left the building by the time Gus was given the floor.

  Western Europe was on the brink of war with most of the Middle Eastern countries, which for the first time in history were united. The United States was trying to remain neutral as long as possible and the thought of policing the world was a very unpopular notion to the public in 2040. However, a small handful of senators felt a military engagement was probably unavoidable. Therefore, Gus’s report on a freshman senator’s campaign financing was anything but important at this urgent hour and Gus would have agreed had the investigation not turned up matters of both national security and global well-being.

  Just over two years ago at his insistence, the Senate had reluctantly authorized the formation of a committee to investigate the questionable campaign donations of a fellow senator named Abdul Faris. The Senate’s reluctance to investigate senator Faris was mostly due to the fact that he was a minority. In 2040, minority status meant special favors and a blind eye, no matter what level of government or position in the private sector the minority held. The scuttlebutt was that Abdul had accepted money from a Turkish-based world organization called Toprak Esir Inc., believed to be the financial might and momentum behind the financial crash and subsequent political takeover of Praia, a small and rather insignificant country located in the Cape Verde islands off the western coast of Africa. Insignificant that is, to the majority of the world and the seemingly peaceful takeover went unnoticed by most Americans and other first-world citizens. Since the golden age of sail, Africa had always been a cesspool of marauding warlords, nation rise and fall, enslavement and genocide. By the year 2040, the United Nations and the world at large had progressively closed an eye at the comings and goings of African nations and the dangerous minefield of attempting to unravel the revolving doors of the ruling powers.

  The Faris investigation was largely ignored by an uninterested public and an even less interested media. However, what started out as a somewhat benign public inquiry had turned into a crisis of global implications. Gus became interested in senator Faris after he overheard him speaking in Turkish with a Capital Building security guard that didn’t appear to be Middle Eastern, but spoke fluent Turkish. He might not have thought it too out of place had they not both stopped speaking as he approached from the stairwell. Gus was far from fluent in Turkish but as a child he had a Turkish house maid who was eager to teach him her language. Gus never mastered the tongue to any degree but he could recognize the language well enough, and pick out a few words.

  As Gus came up the stairwell that evening he heard the name Toprak and the words “asker yerleştirme” exchanged several times in an urgent conversation between the two men. At the time he wasn’t sure if he heard the word “asker” or “askeri” but it was of little importance since one meant “troops” and the other “military.” The other word he knew he heard for certain was “placement.” Abdul was not on any military committee and even if he was, what business did he have discussing military movements with this security guard. Besides, the U.S. was not anticipating any military movement at that time so it was plain they were speaking about some other country’s military.

  Alarmed at what he heard, Gus reported it to major General Clancy, a longtime friend who worked at the Pentagon. Geoff Clancy was old-school though he was only 35 and one of the youngest generals in the country’s history. Clancy investigated Gus’s claim about military movements in the Middle East or anywhere in the world at the time and could not confirm it. The only substantial movement of any kind was what appeared to be a minor refugee movement into Van in Eastern Turkey from various places but mostly from Iraq and Iran. However, there definitely was not any military equipment involved in the migration and satellite imaging didn’t even uncover a single firearm. However, at Gus’s insistence, Clancy agreed to keep an eye on the situation, and especially the refugee migration.

  Gus then got approval to form his committee under the guise of campaign fraud inquiry which would give Gus the license he needed to dig deeper into Abdul’s private life and his association with Toprak Esir Inc. For nearly the last 20 years, Toprak had enjoyed unprecedented business success amassing over 800 billion GD (global dollar) in sales. Most unclear however were where the earnings actually came from and what business Toprak was in. It was clear they were heavily into real estate in Dubai, London, Singapore and other international financial centers, but how they were able to acquire such massive holdings without any record of investors was a mystery. At every turn, Toprak was cloaked in obscurity and wove a never-ending paper-trail of dead ends and obvious political favors from many governments. Toprak was a company that seemed to pull money out of the thin air like magic.

  One hundred years ago, this inquiry and subsequent exposure would have been easy, where spies and traitors were quickly deported or dispatched to unknown prisons, but in 2040, political correctness was more than just a rule of proper minority titles and acceptable subjects at dinner parties. Political correctness in 2040 effectively killed freedom of speech and the wrong use of certain words or a misinterpreted comment cost many their jobs, social standing and in at least one case their life. To attack Abdul and Toprak openly was a dangerous endeavor and one that required very careful planning and an elaborate algorithm of calculated risks. It was obvious that Toprak, Abdul and everyone involved counted on the politically correct gag-order in the U.S. to allow them walk among the population unmolested and even proud.

  Abdul Faris was a quiet sort. Rarely was he seen in any conversation with anyone in the Senate and was the only senator without a staff on location in Washington. The investigation revealed indisputable proof that Faris was an employee of Toprak and a Turkish citizen. The fact that this was so easily discovered was proof that they didn’t care who found out and counted on the ignorant Americans to bite their tongues. What was even more arrogant was the fact that there was no record of Faris ever becoming a U.S. Citizen in the 10 years he had been in the United States. Gus and his committee had enough on Faris to convict him as a spy and land him in a pr
ison cell at Guantanamo Bay, but the much more dangerous question was why? Why was it so important for a global real estate company to have an ear in the U.S. Senate? In the two years Faris had held his seat he did almost next to nothing. He hadn’t sponsored a single piece of legislation or even attended a single social event in Washington. To say he was flying under the radar was an understatement;. Abdul was crawling underground. If he was digging for information, he didn’t walk in the right circles or even know the right people.

  Gus’s committee had discovered that Faris had been an employee of Toprak since 2025 and had lived a seemingly quiet life in Istanbul as a lowly property manager earning 50,000 GD (global dollar) a year. In 2030 he was transferred to Portland, Oregon by Toprak to negotiate a relatively insignificant real estate deal; insignificant compared to the other holdings of the company. Once in the States, Abdul never left and the deal seemed to all be a front even though his work visa was renewed every year by an undisclosed sponsor. From there, the next thing the records showed was Faris being awarded a U.S. Senate Seat in Oregon. Gus’s committee randomly called 300 residents in Oregon and all respondents thought their Senator was Peter Delano. Senator Delano was defeated in 2032 by Faris in an election no one seemed to remember. Delano had held the seat since 2008 so it wasn’t all that surprising that a politically apathetic public still thought he was in office. The voting records showed a close but decisive victory for Faris however, they could not find a single voter who voted for Faris nor anyone who even knew who he was.

  Three months ago, desperate for answers, Gus had Abdul trailed for several weeks and what he discovered could only be described as bizarre. Every evening, Abdul left his Senate Building office and walked round the Ellipse on the White House lawn twice; once clockwise and then counter clockwise, the whole time talking on his cell phone. He then made his way on the Metro to 1211 Wisconsin Ave. to an upstairs walk-up, next door to the Potomac Masonic Lodge No. 5. This could have been just a coincidence but based upon Abdul’s bizarre behavior he couldn’t be sure. Being a Mason was not a crime in 2040, unlike some religious organizations that had been disbanded in the last 10 years. After all, the lodge was not well marked and he never actually saw Abdul enter the lodge. The only other regular destination Abdul frequented was Martin’s Tavern in Georgetown, almost nightly. Abdul would not be the only alcoholic in the Senate and based upon the kind of life Abdul lead, anyone would have needed a stiff one every night just to remain upright.

  The little Gus and his committee did discover about Abdul and Toprak in the past two years was enough to bring it to the attention of the Senate and sound the alarm that there was a potentially very dangerous threat to national security in play. What disturbed Gus more than what had happened with Abdul and Toprak was the way it happened. Gus knew once his findings were presented to the Senate, all fingers would point to immigration law. Immigration reform for the past 30 years had been a favorite steppingstone for political opportunists but never was there any meaningful reform. The existing laws were probably sufficient to protect the country, but they had not been truly enforced for decades. Gus knew he had to rule out immigration as the culprit in his speech, but to approach the real issue was a career-ending minefield.

  The bulleted points on the lectern in front of him had been carefully selected and even more carefully worded to be as politically correct as possible. Attacking a minority senator was dangerous ground for anyone in 2040, but especially for an elected public official. The fear of being labeled raciest had become the Scarlet Letter of the 21st century and every so-called decent citizen subscribed to the politically correct agenda as fierce as the previous generations held fast to Christianity.

  “Senator Guiscard, do you require a hot poker?” said the Speaker in an impatient sigh, which evoked a humored response from the senators in attendance.

  Gus turned to look at the Speaker and slowly shook his head in disgust and said, “Yes. Yes, I believe I do. I believe we all do Mr. Speaker.” Gus took off his glasses and folded them back into his coat pocket as his committee members went into an instant panic. They knew Gus was as blind as a bat without his glasses and not being able to read his notes meant he was about to go rogue. Gus had decided he could no longer ignore the politically correct elephant in the room that was paving the way for wide spread espionage and political take over. Under his breath, he asked his committee members to forgive him as he looked out onto the Senate floor and holding onto both sides of the lectern he began to speak.

  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.” Pausing for effect, he continued, “For the past 264 years, we have been a lamp and many times the only light in a world full of conspiring men with oppressive intent and evil desires; desires to enslave the world to glutton their spoils on their insatiable lust for power and excess. I testify today that at least one and probably more of those evil-intending men are here today, serving in this Congress, unabated and unchecked. This body was designed by our fathers to champion and serve the tired and poor huddled masses of this country and the world. I stand before you today and charge this body to be courageous and fearless in the execution of that sacred charge entrusted to us by this people and the responsibility we have inherited by those whose bodies lie rotting in the graveyard. In the name of that sacred trust I charge this body to awake and to SEE and SAY things AS THEY ARE! “

  Shocked and angry murmurs erupted from the floor in a confused whirlwind of white noise. Raising his voice to be heard above the chatter and moving nearer to the microphone Gus continued. “My fellow public servants, we who have been entrusted with the sacred duty to keep the flame of liberty burning, we have been caught on our laurels with our pants down and we seem to think we have been elected to sit upon a throne. The only throne we have a God-given right to sit upon is that porcelain throne in the men’s washroom, not in this sacred hall and not in this sacred country. We are free men and yet we choose to enslave ourselves under the lies of liberality and the stench of political correctness. For the past 26 months, I and my distinguished colleagues have investigated the comings and goings of one of our own and I am loath to share with you today that our findings show indisputable proof of Mr. Faris’s fraud on this country and on the people of the great State of Oregon. As unforgivable as his actions are, we mustn’t focus on Abdul Faris for he is just the branch. We must focus on the root from which he sprang and the reason such a travesty of this proportion could go unchecked in this country. This United States of America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, has become a slave to its own freedoms.”

  Gus’s committee was now officially in a panic. He hadn’t followed a single note in front of him and his remarks were as far as one could get from being cautious and calculated or politically correct. With discrete hand waving, they tried in vain to deter his attention and redirect his focus. The Senate was now in a state of both alarm and confusion and they made it known in not so quiet whispers. In the confusion toward the back of the room, Gus saw Abdul Faris slip out unnoticed to everyone but he and his committee. By now, Gus’s countenance was bloodshot and taking a desperately needed breath, he continued in a tone that was only lesser by degrees.

  “Our most sacred freedom in this great country was our freedom of speech. I say was because we live in a country where it no longer exists. We dare not speak the truth or our minds for fear of offending others and worse, fear that we will be ridiculed and publicly humiliated. The enemies of freedom have invented a tool–no a weapon, that so effectively subdues truth under the guise of kindness that the whole country is wounded and bleeding from it. Political correctness is the illusion of kindness that hurts us all. We as a nation have become so obsessed with inoffensive language that we can no longer communicate to say nothing of labeling things as they truly are. We live in a world where the truth cannot be spoken lest we offend some protected class. We have all become so wounded by this deceitful and cunning weapon that we dare not say anything
and therefore we have also stopped seeing. Political correctness is the sanctioned process of labeling things as they are not and if we cannot find a fitting label, we say nothing at all. This is how we can have senator Faris, a Turkish citizen hold a seat in this house without question and without notice.

  Through this cancer of political correctness, we have become a divided people. If we are to continue to stand as the greatest war in modern history bangs on our doors, we will only do it with open eyes and united. When Lady Liberty first graced the harbor of New York we were called the great melting pot. The huddled masses flocked to our shores to have the privilege of being called Americans. Today, we are not Americans but African-Americans, Asian-Americans, French-Americans and the lot; anything but plain Americans. However, that might have been tolerable but as of late we have even begun to drop the hyphen and just call ourselves, Latinos, Asians, Muslims and the rest of the ethnic soup that we then try to stir into a unified nation. Who are we kidding?

  In embracing and celebrating–oh you gotta love that word–our differences we have become more and more different and there is nothing to celebrate in difference. Show me a single marriage that is worth the price of a cheap divorce lawyer that makes it work by rubbing in each other’s face how different they are. How absurd, the thought of celebrating difference! Difference does not unite us, difference distances us. Our enemies know what they are doing; they are not as stupid as we. They know emphatically that divided we will fall! Ladies and gentlemen, we stand divided and robbed of our ability to even address it!

  We have kicked a dead horse all day today and argued the implications and actions we should take if we should be invaded or if we should help our allies. Ladies and gentlemen, the enemy is already here. In case you missed it–and I know you did–the invasion happened 60 years ago and so long as we suffer under this illusion of enlightenment we might as well take one last vote today to change the Statue of Liberty’s inscription to, ‘Give me your terrorists, your jihads and your huddled filth, yearning to destroy.’ Mr. Speaker, I have no time left. I only pray our beloved country does.”

  Gus crumpled up his unused notes in disgust, threw them in the trash and walked out of the silent hall with all eyes watching him. After Gus left the room, the Speaker stood, dropped the gavel on his desk and began clapping. His applause was not returned by any other senator and it echoed in the stunned room.

  Walking into his office, Gus was greeted by his energetic young intern who had been serving as his aid for the last year. In her normally contagious, cheerful tone she asked, “So—how did it go?”

  In disbelief at what he had just done, Gus could only shake his head and without a word, he walked into his office and locked the doors behind him.

  Veronica Paige was just out of college, and was the best aid Gus had ever had. She was extremely intelligent, efficient and beautiful with a near photographic memory. Nothing fell through the cracks with Veronica, except when she had over a single ounce of alcohol in her system. She did everything extremely well except hold her liquor. Gus had had many interns over the years but none that he connected with and loved so very much as Veronica. He was old enough to be her grandfather and that was the very relationship they had. In addition to being scary-smart, Veronica’s attachment to Gus was mutual and there seemed to be nothing she loved more than looking after Gus, despite his urging for her to go find a rich, young lawyer and have babies. Gus was very fond of her and as he leaned back in his chair and looked out on the Washington Monument–as if he didn’t have enough regrets for the day–he regretted responding so cold to her and rubbed his forehead and sighed.

  Laying his head back on the tall leather chair and closing his eyes, his mind wondered an ocean away to a college professor and mentor he loved, his grand-father. Gus was born in England in 1970 and attended Cambridge where his grand-father taught political science. His grand-father had inspired Gus and was largely responsible for placing his feet on a political path at a very early age. For the better part of his childhood, Gus (and his grand-father) dreamed of holding a seat in Parliament. Two years after his grand-father passed away, Gus had moved to the States with the intent of attending an American law school. Shortly after his arrival however, he became involved with American politics and found himself in the hotbed of the Western political frontier which at that time was in great upheaval due to the Non-profit Fairness Act that required all non-profit organizations and churches to pay a parishioner tax.

  He put off law school so that he could focus on his new found vocation but quickly realized that in order to effect real change; he had to do more than lobby congressmen and manage fundraising activities. He became a naturalized citizen and after the mandatory nine year waiting period, he ran for one of the two senate seats in Wyoming and won. Now at 70, he had seen a lot of corruption in his time in the U.S. Senate and he had fought all his days to resist and prosecute it. He loved being an American and honored it more than most other people he knew but in 2040, patriotism was politically incorrect, not to mention a lonely party.

  His mind returned to an old classroom in Trinity Hall, paneled in dark English oak and medieval-looking walls. He could hear the familiar squeak of the wood and cast iron seats as students struggled to get comfortable during one of Doctor Guiscard’s long lectures. There was one particular lecture that had been burned upon his memory and he could hear it in his mind as clear as the day he first heard it. All these years later, Gus still recited it to find both strength and the courage to walk the hard and lonely walk he had done so often during his career.

  “Politicians are corrupt by definition because of how their world is defined. Political systems are corrupt and they corrupt all that participate in them eventually. But give me a man who will not be corrupted and if the system doesn’t destroy him first, he will change the world.”

  Gus was shocked back to the present with anxious and alarming noises outside his office doors. He heard Veronica yelling in earnest but the exact words he could not discern so deep was his daydream. Rushing to his office doors, he heard Veronica scream as two bullets burst through his doors striking him in the chest and face and knocking him to the floor. Luckily, the old and very heavy mahogany doors of his office stripped the mortal velocity from the slugs as they sent dagger-like splinters across the room, leaving him bleeding and bruised but alive. Dazed and struggling to make sense of the last 5 seconds, he herd two more shots fired and then silence.

  As he lay there, he waited to hear Veronica’s voice and pleaded, “Please, say something. Say something, damn-it.” All he could hear was the reverberation of gun shots playing through his mind like distant thunder. Silence and silence–nothing.

  “Senator, are you in there? Are you hurt?” yelled an unfamiliar voice outside the doors followed by urgent pounding.

  Staggering to his feet, he stumbled across the room and opened the doors and there at the threshold was Veronica’s crumpled lifeless body in a growing pool of blood. It was obvious that she had tried to stop the gunman from entering his office and when she could not deter him, she placed herself between him and the gunman. The two bullets that had knocked him to the floor had first passed through her body at point-blank range. Gus fell to his knees and picked up her lifeless body and cradled her in his arms. With a shaking hand, he brushed back blood-filled hair away from her youthful face and wept.

  The light from her face was gone. Gus felt her neck for a pulse, and waited, tried again, and again–nothing. Her eyes were still painfully wide open and he gently placed his hand on her eyelids and held his hand there until the muscles relaxed so they would remain shut. In that moment of utter despair, he felt an infinite determination sweep through him and a youthful power of heart that had long since left his tired body. Involuntarily, but rising up from the sincere desires of his heart, he whispered to her soul, “Please live!”

  Veronica’s head shook from the under the touch of Gus’s hand and in complete shock he quickly removed it a
s she struggled to sit up, gasping and coughing up the blood that had drained into her lungs. She tried to smile in her old familiar way, the way she always did when she first greeted Gus in the morning, but in the confusion and mortal disorientation of the moment she could only say, “There is a man here to see you.”

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