Chapter 194

7.c.iii.

“Prosperity.  That’s the key folks.  Once we prosper, then we’ll find that we’re not disprosperous anymore,” said George W. Bush, tilting his head and cocking his cowboy hat in a reassuring manner.  “Tax cuts will ensure prosperity and deregulation enables businesses to take advantage of this prosperity and grow.  And growth is the only way …”  He jangled his hand as if jostling man-fruit.  Then he redoubled the intensity of the movement to emphasize each of his next statements. “Prosperity.  Tax cuts.  Deregulation.  Change my diaper.  War on poverty.”

The crowd roared.  The applause of deafening.  George W. adjusted his diaper in quick thrusting movements and the crowd roared again.

“Wait,” said Corporate Man.  “Did he make these kind of speeches during his terms in office?”

“Yes,” said Business Woman, jaw clenching.

“And he got elected for a second term?”

Business Woman sighed and said, “Yes.  People are that stupid.”

Bull Market paced frantically, scratching haphazardly.  “This is not good.  Not good at all.”

“We all want the same things, right?” George W. Bush continued.  “We want to live life, have our things, be happy Americans, and kill terrorists.  Am I right?”

Cheers from the crowd.

“Sure I’m right.  No terrorist left behind!”

An earthquake of crowd noise.

“The only way we can do all that is by prospering and the only way we can prospersize is by fixing this economy and then only was we can fix this economy is by having a conversation.  Starting a dialogue with economists and trusting in our business leaders who are already very prosperous because they know how to do it.  And we can all follow their example.  So spend money.  Stimulate the economy.  And trust in the system.  Let the economy correct itself.  Prosper.  And that alone will create prosperity.  And prosperity for the nation means that we can continue our war on children.”

The response to this was disparately flat.  A secret serviceman shuffled onto the stage and positioned himself behind and to the side of George W. Bush.  He reached a tentative finger toward the waistband of the former President’s diaper, pulled it open slightly, and peered down inside.  His brow furrowed and his lips pulled back from his teeth.  The agent nodded and was joined by more secret servicemen.  They carried W. off the stage.

An alarm bell sounded, signally the start of trading.

Bull Market charged forward shouting, “Sell!  Sell!  Sell!”

The arena became a frenzy of aggressive activity and overpowering noise.  Everyone trying desperately to outmaneuver and out hand-signal each other.  Bull Market’s cries were drown out by the crowd and he was swept away into a boiling mass as mob panic consumed the floor.

Tele-screens and digital tickers displayed falling numbers as the market plummeted.  A noise, like a high pitched whine, pierced the air then grew higher and higher.

“Oh damn.  This is bad,” said Business Woman.

“We gotta get out of here,” Senior Executive hissed.

“It’s too late,” said Corporate Man.  “It’s here.”

Commander Credit’s eyes gleamed and smile cut across his face.  He checked the weapon systems on his arm and said, “Yes.  And it’s about damn time.”

Chapter 192

7.c.i.

The Union walked through the set of double doors into a room the size of an arena.  It was bustling with people in suits, runners in collared shirts, and polo-clad coffee fetchers.  Everyone made complex hand signals at everyone else.  A smell, covetous and sweaty, like a locker room papered with decommissioned dollar bills, permeated the space.  The noise was overpowering, like the engines of a private jet to the basic rights of the needy.

“Ah… This is where it all goes down,” said Bull Market. 

He led them through the sea of people to a small platformed area sectioned off with velvet ropes.  Here were gathered those whose previous day’s trading had garnered acclaim and this slightly elevated place of honor was their reward.

The arena space was so massive that more than one member of the Union wondered how a place with ceiling so high could fit on one floor.  Even if that floor was the equivalent of three floors combined.  Giant tele-screens hung from huge steel rafters and electronic ticker displays scrolled in every direction the eye could possibly look.

“When’s the big show start?” asked Business Woman.

“In a couple of minutes,” said Bull Market.  “Apparently, they’ve got a guest speaker coming in who’ll kick things off today.  Rumor has it that it’s the President.”

“Really?” asked Corporate Man.  “Barack knows about this place?”

“How could he not?” said Bull Market.  “This place is the economy.”

There was an eruption of cheers and applause which replaced the already roaring sound in the arena.  At the far end of the arena was a tall stage with huge speakers flanking either side.  The lights dimmed and a spotlight flashed upon a lone figure as he walked toward center stage.  He wore a large brown Stetson hat, spurred cowboy boots, and a man-sized disposable diaper.

“Oh god,” said Bull Market.  “Not him.  Not him!”

“What?  Who is it?” asked Corporate Man.

“Ah shit,” said Business Woman. “That’s W.”

“As in George W? asked Corporate Man.

“Yep,” Business Woman said, her head shaking instead of nodding.

Bull Market scratched nervously at his neck.  And then his forearm.  And then his scalp.

“This will not end well,” he said.