The Brave New World 47 A California Coronation

"What!?"

"DON'T mix Dad's Wallbanger in the shaker. He hates it that way. Just mix it in the glass. And don't forget a half-slice of orange on the rim.

"Karen..."

"No! Put the vodka first, then the juice. The vodka is lighter, so it will rise to the top. Stir it lightly. Now sprinkle it with Galliano and DON'T stir it again."

"Shut up," hissed Adam. "Jesus! Tell you what: you make your own Martini. I'm not going to make drinks for you people ever again."

"Don't be a crybaby."

"Fuck off."

Adam Lander stormed out of the kitchen and made his way to the dining room. He walked up to his father seated at the head of the big table, and deposited the full glass on the wine-red leather coaster embossed with gold.

"Here you are, Dad," he said.

"Thank you," said Kirk Lander. "Is Karen coming?"

"She's fixing herself a drink."

Kirk Lander nodded with understanding. He appreciated his daughter's need for some alcohol in preparation for the conference that was about to begin. Alcohol had helped Kirk a great many times during the course of his political career. He firmly believed that without alcohol, society would simply suffer a seizure. Alcohol was to society what oil was to a running engine: a lubricant that made sure things went on more or less smoothly.

He tasted his Wallbanger and smiled: Adam had gotten it right, for once. He raised his glass, looking at everyone seated at the table. In addition to the Lander clan, the assembled personnel included John Vorner - their farmer neighbor.

"To us," Kirk said, and sipped. They all grinned and drank. 'To us' is the perfect toast, thought Kirk. 'To you' was too ingratiating. 'To myself' - although sincere, it just couldn't be done. 'To everyone gathered here' - too general, he would sound like he didn't know his audience. 'To us' was perfect. It established a bond.

Karen entered the room bearing a family-sized Martini, mixed in what appeared to be a small salad bowl on a stand. Mixing a drink of that size could require substantial labor. Kirk decided he wouldn't mention that she'd kept all of them waiting.

"Please excuse me," Karen said, and swiftly walked to her chair and sat down. Bernard, Kirk's younger son, eyed Karen's drink enviously. At fifteen he was still officially underage, even though he was more adult than most people in almost every respect. He was allowed to drink beer or wine, but not liquor. Not even when it was diluted in a cocktail that had less alcoholic content than wine.

Bernard longed to escape the dreary bullshit of yet another family conference. They all ignored him, just because he was the youngest! He wanted to be back in his room, smoking a joint. Kirk said:

"As you all know, in a couple of hours I must make an important decision, a final decision on whether to accept the post of governor of Napa County in the New World."

He broke off and looked around the table to see whether everyone was appropriately impressed. They were. With the exception of Randy Trueman, who had been toughened up by the Marines, they were all slightly shell-shocked by news from the outside world that had finally begun to filter through. The picture that emerged was that of a world upside down. The United States of America was no longer an independent nation, and neither was any other nation! There would be a new global currency based on coins! It was stupefying.

"Of course," continued Kirk, "If I accept this post, graciously offered to me by Carlton Brock - I will not be able to participate in our own New World colonization effort."

That was the wrong thing to say. He could see a couple of people, especially Bernard, were pleased to hear that. Well, Bernard had a surprise coming. Kirk smiled at him, and said:

"So I'd like all of us to vote on what I should do. Your wishes are of paramount importance to me. If you vote remain, I shall turn down Carlton Brock's offer. If you vote leave - I will accept it."

It was already done and dusted, of course. Kirk Lander didn't call a vote he was likely to lose. They'd all vote for him to stay; a couple might abstain. And he wanted to stay. He didn't want to become a cog in the new colonial machine, even though he'd be an important cog. Adam, Randy, his wife Debbie, and John Vorner would all vote for him to remain. Karen and Bernard would abstain. That was how it would pan out.

It had been a masterstroke to bring Vorner in on his scheme. There was always a possibility Karen would try to make Randy vote her way. But Vorner's vote meant that there was no hope of winning against Kirk. He could always count on four votes, including his own. That gave him a majority. And both Karen and Bernard had the smarts to avoid fights they would lose. They'd abstain, motivating their choice by the desire to give Kirk complete freedom of decision.

John Vorner had been more than happy to join the Lander New World enterprise. He was a farmer. He was up to his neck in debt. He had been completely ruined by the catastrophe. His farm had collapsed: he couldn't run it without machinery, and no machinery was working. Kirk' s offer, accompanied by a indefinite-term half-million dollar loan, had been a lifesaver. He'd eagerly joined Kirk, and proved to be of great help in the recruiting of extra colonists for the New World.

They'd recruited nearly forty people over the past two weeks. Most of them were former workers at Vorn's farm; they'd suddenly found themselves unemployed. They too all received indefinite-term loans from Kirk Lander, although the amounts were naturally much smaller. They'd practically wept with gratitude. They didn't know what Kirk already knew: that the money would soon become useless, and all debt - public and private - would be cancelled.

There was one fly in the ointment that bothered Kirk, if only slightly. He knew that when he turned down the governor's post, Brock would offer it to the other California senator: Libby Placek. Libby Placek was a left-leaning, middle-aged lesbian who ceaselessly campaigned on the premise that people were fundamentally good and caring and well-meaning even when they behaved badly.

Given this horseshit, Kirk had no doubt that his own, private kingdom in the New World would enjoy all the independence it wanted. He tried to imagine Libby Placek operating in New World reality. She was a vegetarian. Presumably, she would refuse to wear animal skin. She was seriously overweight, and the image of her clad in a grass skirt made Kirk grin with delight.

"I shall now leave this room," he said, rising from his seat. "I do not want my presence to unduly influence anyone's vote. I will return after five minutes to cast my own vote."

"Dad, wait," Adam said. "Shouldn't you vote before leaving?"

"Like I said, I don't want to influence anyone's vote."

"But it's only fair that we know what your wishes are. Whether you want to stay with us, or accept the governor's post."

"My wish is to want what my voters want," Kirk said a little pompously, and left the room.

He made his way to his study, and helped himself to a cigar. He frowned, and counted the cigars left in the humidor. Six. And maybe another twenty in the untouched box in his desk drawer. That Vorner was smoking him out of house and home! Kirk had taken to offering John Vorner a cigar each time he wanted his agreement on something. It had a Pavlovian effect, and now Vorner expected a cigar every single time Kirk wanted to talk to him about something.

As Kirk puffed on his cigar, he wondered about what was going on in the dining room. There would be some last-minute, fervent canvassing by Karen and Bernard to vote leave. They wouldn't succeed. Debbie, Adam, and Vorner were staunchly on his side, and Randy could count as well as the next man. He would know the leave vote would lose even if he'd joined it.

Another two minutes to go! Kirk allowed himself one long, luxurious draw on his cigar; then he placed it in the ashtray on his desk, and slowly walked back to the dining room. He stopped at the door, listening: but all he heard was silence. After a while, Bernard coughed. Then Karen said something, but her voice was too low for Kirk to make out what she'd said.

Exactly five minutes after he'd left, he pressed the handle and entered the dining room. He nodded to everyone - he knew they were all looking at him. He took his seat at the head of the table and looked back at them and smiled his most sincere smile.

"So," he said, "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

It provoked uneasy grins around the table. Adam said:

"What's your vote, Dad?"

"All right," said Kirk, in a tone that suggested he didn't wish to talk about his own desires, and that doing so constituted a great sacrifice. "I love and cherish you all, you know that. And John here has been a family friend for years. How could you even think I'd want to leave? I vote to remain. Given your wisdom and help, I'll do my best to guide our colony to prosperity."

He glanced around the table, and asked:

"So, what's the tally?"

"Five for remain, and two abstentions," said Adam. And they all started clapping, even Bernard and Karen.

Kirk rose from his seat, beaming and bowing: they all rose too, continuing to clap. He actually had to raise a hand for them to stop.

"I shall now call the President, pardon me, the UN commissioner for the United States, Carlton Brock, and apprise him of my decision," he said.

"What will be your title?" asked Karen, a little viciously.

"King, of course. Kings were historically elected in progressive nations like, like Holland."

"Poland," Karen said.

"Of course. I misspoke. And you shall all receive titles and coats of arms consistent with the power you shall wield in your domains."

His family had known about his plans for the various titles, but John Vorner seemed a little taken aback. It made sense to start with him.

"You, John," said Kirk, "Will take charge of the country stretching from your farm to lake Berryessa. You will be known as Duke of Beryessa. You Randy - you shall found a settlement on the Napa river. We must gain control of the river and secure untrammelled access to San Pablo Bay. Does Duke of San Pablo sound okay to you? You may all change your titles to whatever you like, by the way. These are just proposals. But I think they fit the image of the glorious colony we shall build together."

"What about me?" said Adam.

"My son! You shall, of course, be known as the Grand Duke of Napa. You shall have your own estate, of course, I have two locations in mind that I would like to discuss with you later. And you, Bernard, will secure our northern border by colonizing the area around Lake Hennessey."

"I see I don't get a title," Karen said.

"My dear! Of course you do. You're the Duchess of San Pablo or whatever Randy and you prefer to be called. Of course Debbie shall stay at my side as the Queen."

"The queen of what? California?" Debbie asked.

Kirk Lander felt stunned by his wife's wisdom. He had intended to call himself the King of Napa, but now he saw the King of California was a much better title. Debbie was so smart! Most people didn't think so, but he did. He didn't marry her just for her young beauty.

"Of course," he said. "The Queen of California."

"So that makes you the King of California?" said Karen.

"Naturally. And have no fear: within a few years, all of California will be under our control. Or at least a substantial part, including a large stretch of the coast."

There was a disbelieving silence, so he added:

"We have enough implant kits and hiber beds to build the most powerful colony in the area. And I'm also sure we have in this room an incredible combination of intelligence and talent. A combination that will be very, very difficult to beat."

He paused dramatically and then continued, slamming his fist softly down on the table to underline each point:

"We have iron. We have horses. We have all sorts of livestock and agricultural plants. And most importantly, we have the will!"

"Yes," John Vorner said, and thumped the table too, and all of a sudden they all began clapping.

Even Bernard and Karen.

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