Dawn of the Unthinkable (36 page)

The dean failed the test, saying warmly,
“Fine, fine, send her my regards. Now what can I do for you? I
think I’m a little pressed for time…” he said, looking at the
doorway as if hoping for a secretary rescue. Cunningham
accommodated him with a brief synopsis and let him have it right
between the eyes. Those eyes grew quite wide again, and the dean
sagged into his chair.

The dean pulled himself together. “Whew, you
have been busy, haven’t you? I had no idea. We knew when we granted
you tenure that you were somewhat off the beaten track, but every
school needs its share of them. But this is way off in another
universe. Let me get this straight. You’re going to propose that
the United States gives up money as a medium of exchange and that
it goes instead to a rather socialistic system that has as its
saving grace that all people “vote” for each other’s standard of
living? And the rich of society are going to be compelled to give
up their wealth so that all can benefit? And you’ve got several
million people from an archaic labor movement champing at the bit
to support this? I’ve got to ask, Wayne, are you stupid or just
naïve? Because from what I’ve heard, stupid seems to be the more
logical guess. This is absolutely the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard
of.” The dean sat back, staring at him antagonistically. He did not
like having his boat rocked, and this was the equivalent of the
Titanic disaster.

Cunningham was not fazed by this attack,
although he was expecting something a little more objectively
phrased. He wrote that off to the man not liking him personally and
was seizing this opportunity to spew a little venom. He could deal
with that; it came with the territory of being an opinionated black
man in society. He drew energy from the fact that he had upset this
small-minded man’s world and that this was probably the same sort
of resistance that Martin Luther King faced. So he smiled and
laughed, which only infuriated the dean more because he knew he had
shown weakness by getting personal.

Cunningham addressed his thoughts. “Well,
now that was a nice, objective analysis. You’ve got the gist of it,
so I won’t bore you with the details. Just wanted to let you know
I’m kind of the strategic planner for it, and you’ll probably be
seeing my name in print soon. I’ll make sure to state that I’m
doing this on my own and that the ivory tower here did not
contribute to my alleged heresy. I can cite you as my mentor,
though, if you’d like.”

The dean knew he had lost this battle of
wits and that he should retreat to fight another day. Besides, he
would need to consult with some of his advisors to figure out what
to do, as his only impulse right now was to strangle him. Even
though the end goal of poverty elimination was admirable, the means
were ridiculous and would most likely expose the university to
embarrassment and humiliation.

He said, “Okay, sir, you got me. I’m just a
little flummoxed, that’s all. I wish you had come to me sooner. I
would have been happy to lend whatever support we could. Did you
ever consider running a focus group or seminar here to discuss it?
Did you consider the value of possibly having a respected
university endorse it for further study? No? I see, well now the
ship has sailed, hasn’t it, and apparently there is nothing much I
can do to change its heading at this point. Well, thank you at
least for giving me a heads up, and please stick to your promise to
state that you’re doing this without our involvement. It should be
interesting to see how your announcement turns out on the Fourth. I
have another appointment, so I’ll see you around.” With that, he
nodded to him and left him sitting in his office.

Cunningham looked around at all the pictures
of the dean with famous people. One in particular gave him a start;
it was the dean with Senator Kennedy. Cunningham had not told him
of that visit, and wouldn’t old Deano be surprised if Kennedy came
out in support of it? He would probably try to jump on the wagon
then, saying that they had supported him all along. He shook his
head and sighed, wondering if he should have done as the dean said
and ran it through their mill. He decided no, the most that would
have come out of that is nay saying by the stuffed shirts in the
department and endless committees and papers but no action in the
end. This was much more dynamic, and if the message got out, it
would actually put the decision in the hands of people who it could
most positively affect. He wouldn’t trade this experience for the
world.

He got up and walked back to his office. It
was, as usual, teetering with books and magazines in every nook and
cranny; he really should clean it out someday. The phone was
ringing as he came in, and he set off a minor avalanche of paper as
he dug for it. He picked it up, and he said, “Hello, Dr.
Cunningham, can I help…” but he was cut off by a low, deadly
sounding voice.

“You would be advised to disassemble this
coalition you are a part of. Grave harm will come to you and your
family members if you persist.” The caller hung up, leaving
Cunningham momentarily shaken. But then he remembered the call
redial feature on the phones, and he punched in the number. The
message came back saying that it could not be redialed as it was
out of the area. He sat back and cursed. His first threat. He
wondered how they had found out about him. He was kind of in the
background so far; only Ryan and Palma had taken any public
actions. Oh, well, it wasn’t the first time he had been threatened,
but it was the first time someone in his family had as a result of
something he was doing. That was definitely a concern, and he
wondered whether he should inform the police and his wife. He
thought he would let it ride for a while to see if he would call
back. And hoped again that he was doing the right thing.

“Well, Senator, you managed to weather the
sapping incident with only minor damage,” said Rudi Jordan as he
drove his boss away from the Capitol Building after a long day of
hearings. The moon was setting above the Reflecting Pool on the
Mall and it made for a magical site for the tourists strolling on
the balmy evening.

Kincaid took no joy in the view though. “My
rating with women was so low anyway that it couldn’t go much lower.
Even though it was months ago, my apologies to the tree hugger and
all her various constituencies seemed to fall on deaf ears.” He was
slumped in the back seat against the door, and fortunately the
issues of the day took quickly took precedence over his gaffs.

Jordan glanced at him in the rear-view
mirror and shook his head at the human wreckage he saw. If this man
was one of the select one hundred that the country elected to be
there voice in the Senate, then the State of the Union was in sorry
shape. He had to snap it out of it, or they would all be out of a
job.

“Senator, you’re sleepwalking through your
campaign, and that usually doesn’t matter, but this time, this
doctor is giving you a run for the money. You have to concentrate
on campaigning. You have to get out there and press the flesh and
kiss the babies. I know you hate it, but that’s the only way you’re
going to be able to stay in office.”

Kincaid sighed. “Yes, I wish there was a
system where a group of old club members could just reappoint you
every ten years or so. You’d sit down with them over gin and
tonics, have a few laughs, and get your ticket punched for the next
decade. Campaigning sucks and I’ve lost my drive to get out there
and do all that.”

Jordan reacted, his voice rising
involuntarily, and he said with less respect than he usually
mustered. “Are you shittin’ me? You have a job that thousands of
men and women would cut off body parts to have. Virtually every
expense you have is picked up by the taxpayers. You’ve become
filthy rich, and people that can’t stand you still kiss your ass.
How can you
not
be motivated to hang onto it? Let’s look at
it another way. What would you do if you weren’t a senator?”

Kincaid’s eyes opened wide at this
unbelievable idea. “Not a senator?” he gasped.

“Yes, not a senator. It happens, you know.
If people think you’re ignoring them and not bringing the pork
anymore, they can and will vote you out of office.”

“Are you serious? After all I’ve done for
those voters? They should be ashamed if they even consider voting
for her. She’s never even held office, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yeah, but Senator, that’s part of her
appeal. That old club gin and tonic thing you’re talking about?
People get tired of that. They may be getting tired of you. You
have to do something, or we’ll be packing your stuff into boxes and
going home.”

Kincaid sighed again. He was having a hard
time keeping his interest in the work of the Senate and let his
aides handle most of the work. His marriage was all but officially
over; only the desire to not lose further face with women caused
him to not get divorced. He guessed that in the modern world, it
wouldn’t really matter much. Hell, Reagan was elected President and
he was divorced. But he was also somewhat old-fashioned, and the
idea of a divorce didn’t sit well with him. Besides, his wife would
take him to the cleaners.

Kincaid stared out the window as downtown
Washington flashed by. He said, “Rudi, I’m torn as to what my next
move is. I’m finding myself less and less interested in doing the
Senate work and find myself wondering what my real interests are. I
can’t seem to focus on anything or anyone. I tried calling my
daughter, and she doesn’t want to talk to me because my wife has
poisoned her mind about me. I don’t have any real friends except
you. Everyone that is nice to me I always suspect has an ulterior
motive. It’s like a gilded cage.”

Rudi and the rest of his staff were becoming
concerned. He could usually focus quite well on the situation at
hand, but lately he was more distracted and disinterested. While he
wasn't too influential on the Hill, he was still a source of jobs
and income for his state, and as such, had to be maintained at as
high a profile as possible. While much time and effort had to be
spent in damage control on his personal life, they usually didn't
have to worry too much about his legislative abilities. Now even
that was starting to be suspect. The car had stopped at a light, so
Jordan was able to turn around and try again to motivate him.
“Senator, I’m not your friend; I’m your employee. You told me when
you hired me to be honest with you, so here goes. I think you are
depressed, and you should seek treatment for that. I’ve seen too
many of my friends from the service deny they had a problem then
end up eating their gun. I don’t think you’re at that stage, but
you’d be amazed at how fast you can get there. Should I make an
appointment for you with someone discreet that we can trust?”

Just then, Kincaid’s cell phone rang, and it
was
her
. His heart started racing and he could feel the
blood coursing through his veins. He suddenly realized that this
woman was the only thing that could still cause him to feel
anything, and what she caused him to feel was lust. Pure carnal
desire, to possess, to own her. Whereas usually these flings were a
matter of convenience for him, this one was different. She was
easily his intellectual equal and, in his dark moments, he had to
admit she could probably out-think him. She was sexy as hell but
was not capable of being dominated; she had never married. She was
in his line of work, so he could talk to her about things that came
up, and often her advice was spot on. He had fantasized about
chucking his marriage officially and pursuing her with the intent
to marry, but he knew she wouldn’t have him. The whole situation
was driving him nuts.

He suddenly realized that if he was not a
senator, she would want nothing to do with him. She was in it for
the power of controlling as many members of the Senate and Congress
as she could get her talons into. So he now had his motivation to
keep his seat. If not to serve the public, then to serve
himself.

While he was trying to keep Jordan in the
dark about the true nature of their relationship, he could not risk
not answering her call and pissing her off.

“Hello?”

The voice snarled down the phone, “Why do
you always sound like such a pussy when you answer? Oh, wait a
minute, it’s because you are.”

The transition from talking calmly to a
trusted aide to this lunatic was jarring but also exciting.

“Ah, yes, hello, I’m just coming home from
work. Where are you?” He was trying to throw Jordan off the track
by making it sound like a normal conversation, but he started
sweating and felt himself getting aroused. “Yes, I’ll be there in a
short while. Bye.”

“Rudi, step on it. I’ve got somewhere I need
to be,” as he straightened his tie and patted his pompadour back
into place.

But Jordan knew who was tying him in knots
and what she was doing to him. He wondered what quirk in a man’s
makeup would cause him to want to be dominated, to become a sexual
subjective, to be a slave. The woman was notorious on the Hill for
being a closet dom, and like all politician’s sexual foibles, it
was overlooked because she was so damn effective at her job.
Besides, it was between consenting adults, so what did others care
if the senator liked being beaten silly?

The woman, a high-ranking Senate
chief-of-staff, had startled Kincaid on their first date by telling
him that
she
would be calling the shots and that if he
wanted to play the game, it would be according to her rules. He was
certainly not used to that. In fact, he thought that he had
invented the office blowjob and that Clinton had just made it
famous. From there she had led him down a slippery path of further
degradations until he was now pleading for the opportunity to lick
the bottom of
her
boots, which he suspected of being
purposely tracked through something foul. At the end of their
session, he found himself so turned on by all this nonsense that
she only had to run a well-manicured finger nail down the outside
of his pants and he had a powerful climax in his shorts. He wasn’t
even getting to put the wood to her! This was not how he had
planned to spend the twilight of his life, but then life rarely
went as you planned.