An Election

  “I can’t believe I promised to investigate Canadians,” David said. “I didn’t mean to say that. It just sort of came out.”

  “Welcome to politics,” Latasha said, looking at her papers. “I would expect they’re talking about the Andersens. They live two doors down.”

  “And to be fair, I do think I smell cabbage,” James said.

  “Should we go back to your house for some torches?” Latasha asked.

  “Can we just keep moving, please?” David asked, plaintively.

  At the next house, a small and mousy Blidden named Fuin Suh answered the door.

  “Hello,” David said. “I’m David Sawyer, and I’m running for the third district council seat. Can I talk to you about my platform?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” said Fuin. “And I will also talk to you. About your soul. And how it is forfeit to the spears of the Penetrating Gods.”

  “I’m sorry,” David said. “I’m not a follower of your religion.”

  “That’s the best part!” Fuin said. “You don’t have to be! You’ll still be impaled! Isn’t it wonderful. Come in, come in.” Fuin looked past David to James and Latasha. “You don’t mind if I borrow this nice young man for a few moments, do you?”

  “Will we get him back unimpaled?” James asked.

  “At this time, yes,” Fuin said.

  “Then by all means,” James said.

  “I couldn’t possibly come in without my friends,” David said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Latasha said. “This is a special moment for you and a constituent. We’ll just wait here on the porch. You have fun now.”

  I hate you both, David mouthed silently as Fuin took his hand and pulled him into the house.

  “This is a lot more fun than I was expecting,” James said, to Latasha, as the door closed.

  “Well, the local news just did a poll,” Latasha said, walking up to David, who was descending from the city hall stage where the evening’s debate would be held. The hall was beginning to fill up voters, press and political lackeys.

  “Tell me I’m not in last place,” David said. He sounded tired, because he was. Two weeks of walking the district for votes had worn him out.

  “You are in fact not in last place,” Latasha said. “Of the five candidates for the third district council seat, you are fourth. You are two tenths of a percentage point ahead of Nukka Farn Mu.”

  “Remind me which one he is again,” David said.

  “He’s the one whose entire platform is that we should be allowed to eat our neighbors’ pets,” Latasha said.

  David rubbed his forehead. “So after two weeks I’m just barely ahead of the pet-eater,” he said.

  “Yes,” Latasha said. “Although in the interests of complete honesty I have to tell you that the poll has a three percent margin of error.”

  “So it’s possible I could actually be two point eight percentage points behind him,” David said.

  “Well, no,” Latasha said. “You’ve only got one point six percent of the vote.”

  “How the hell did he get the hundred signatures to get on the ballot, anyway?” David asked.

  “How did you?” Latasha asked.

  “I gave away cookies in front of the supermarket,” David said.

  “Maybe he did the same thing,” Latasha said. “Just with cat jerky.”

  “There’s something wrong with you,” David said, to Latasha.

  “Look,” Latasha said, nodding toward the door. “Here comes Touie Touie.” The two of them watched as the interim councilman sludged his way toward the stage, followed by an entourage.

  “Dare I ask what his poll numbers are?” David said.

  “Ninety percent,” Latasha said. “Although remember they could in reality be as low as eighty-seven percent.”

  “I think I need a nap,” David said.

  “No time,” Latasha said. “The other thing I need to tell you is that I now have the notes for the debate. The moderator is going to introduce you all and each of you is going to have a minute for your opening statements, followed by questions from the moderator, for which you will again each have one minute. For the introductory statement, they’ll be going from right to left on stage, which means you’ll be going fourth.”

  “Are we going by poll rankings?” David asked, bitterly.

  “No, they’re putting you between the two Lideh candidates,” Latasha said. “They’re sisters, and apparently they hate each others’ guts. I think they’re hoping that by putting you between them you’ll keep them from having a brawl on the stage.”

  “Any idea why they hate each other?” David asked.

  “Sibling rivalry needs a reason?” Latasha said. “Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No,” David said.

  “When I was twelve, I cut the brakes on my sister’s bike on her birthday,” Latasha said. “And she deserved it.”

  “I’m not sure I need to know this,” David said.

  “The irony was that our parents got her a new bike for her birthday and gave me her old bike as a hand-me-down,” Latasha said. “And then they wanted to go for a family ride together. I plowed right into a parked car as I came down off a hill. Broke my arm in three places. Trini laughed her ass off at that.”

  “Latasha,” David said.

  “I got her back, though,” Latasha said. “Believe that.”

  “I think I want you to resign,” David said. “You’re beginning to make me nervous.”

  “Don’t be silly, that was years ago,” Latasha said. “My point was that even they probably don’t know why they hate each other. They just do. So you get to be the heat sink between them. It’ll be fine. Now, you remember what you’re not going to talk about in your introductory statement?”

  “I won’t talk about being a human in the race,” David said.

  “And you’re not going to talk about it because?” Latasha asked.

  “It’s not relevant to being able to represent the people of the third district and to bring them the services and care they deserve and should expect. And so on,” David said.

  “Very good,” Latasha said.

  “Your sister is dead now, isn’t she?” David asked.

  “It looks like they’re trying to get all the candidates together,” Latasha said. “Good luck up there. James and I will see you after.”

  Twenty minutes later the candidates were standing behind their podiums and the moderator, a local newscaster, prompted them to begin their opening statements.

  Touie Touie went first. “To begin, the most recent census of the third district tells me that almost a hundred different languages and dialects are spoken here,” he said, bubbles forming a pure, unaccented brand of English which made David think back to their first meeting and become annoyed. “I’m not sure I can say hello in all of those, but let me try.” Touie’s internal structure went momentarily opaque as a spray of tiny bubbles formed. When they surfaced, each formed a greeting in a separate tongue.

  The audience was charmed and amazed, and broke into applause.

  Show off, David thought to himself, as Touie finished with the rest of his opening statement.

  Nukka Farn Mu went next.

  “People of the third district, I will not lie to you,” Nukka Farn Mu said to the audience, baring his sharp, cruel teeth as he did so. “Your pets are delicious to me. I have tasted them. Oh, yes, I have. I resent the local, state and federal laws that do not allow me to prey upon them as I will—or would allow you to do the same to my pets, if I had them, which I do not, because I would have eaten them by now. In the land of my forefathers, the idea that animals as delicious as pets would be kept as companions would be met with derision. I wish to bring that wisdom to this, our common land. If you elect me, I will do everything in my power to make this mighty dream a reality. All other considerations bow before this sacred task. I look forward to the day when we all—every race, every people—feast together on these delicious animals known as pets.
Thank you.”

  The applause this time was sparse and highly scattered.

  The first of the two Lideh candidates, named Ersi snaErvi, spoke next.

  “People of the third district, if you elect me, I will do my best to be responsive to your needs, and to be a good and dedicated public servant,” she said. “But even if you do not elect me, I implore you from the bottom of my heart not to elect my sister, Resi snaErvi. She is evil of the sort you have not known before. And worse than evil, she is incompetent! To elect her would be to cut your wrists and jump into a tank filled with sharks, and only as your entrails were shredded and your life snatched from you would you recognize the folly of your action. Please, I beg of you: Vote for anyone other than my sister, the unspeakable Resi snaErvi. Thank you.”

  David prepared to make his statement.

  “This is outrageous,” said Resi snaErvi. “I realize it is not yet my time to speak, but I cannot let this slander go unanswered a moment longer.”

  “Do you see, people of the third district?” cried Ersi snaErvi. “Already she breaks the rules. Already she trods upon the rights of others!” She looked at David and held out a twiglike appendage. “Human, I apologize to you on behalf of my inconsiderate and terrible sister.”

  “Uh,” David said.

  “No, human, it is I who must apologize for my sister,” Resi snaErvi said. “The filth of her lies already infects your ears, and only the soothing balm of truth will ease the burning.”

  “I just have a few notes here,” David said, pointing to his cue cards.

  “And here is the truth!” Resi snaErvi said. “My sister is unwell. She has been unwell for years. And more than unwell, she is jealous! Of me! Her own sister. For many years I have tried to ignore it and to love her—”

  “Love me!” Ersi snaErvi spat. “You mean, love my intended gene-bond, whom you tricked into mating with you, you pustule of filth!”

  “—but as you can see her irrationality precludes such a possibility,” Resi snaErvi continued. “Why, do you know the only reason she announced as a candidate was to run against me? She has no platform. She is as ignorant as a bug.”

  “Please,” David said. “Let me just—” His next words were muffled as a large jet of oily brown effluvia ejected from the body of Ersi snaErvi and smacked him on the side of the face, on the way to splash Resi snaErvi across her abdomen. Resi snaErvi screeched an unholy screech and shot out her own gout of effluvia, coating the other side of David’s face while the majority of the spray shot across the stage to drench her sister. The two Lideh then lunged toward each other, making David the confused and disoriented filling of a scratching and clawing sandwich of hate.

  From the audience came sounds of both terror and delight. David had just enough time to register both, and another jet of effluvia smacking against him, before losing consciousness.

  “The video is up to four million hits,” James said, pointing to the screen, where David was once again being spritzed by Lideh bodily fluids. “And it’s not even been a full day yet.”

  “Wonderful,” David said, from a supine position on the couch. His tablet buzzed; it was a reporter from the New York Times. David groaned and turned off the tablet.

  “When you add that to the news networks, I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet who hasn’t seen the video by now,” James said. “In a way you’re part of the biggest political story in the world.”

  “The part that gets his ass kicked for standing in the wrong place,” David said.

  “It’s true you’re the comedy relief in this scenario,” James said.

  “It’s not what I ran for office to be,” David said.

  “At least it’s not about anything you did,” James said, and nodded back to the video. “Look at those two. They made complete asses of themselves in front of an entire planet. And now they’re in jail and they’ve both withdrawn from the race. Overall, this video is good for you. If nothing else you look reasonable by comparison.”

  “So you’re saying I’ll ride to victory on the pity vote,” David said.

  “I don’t know about victory,” James said. “But you could ride it to second place, which is a lot better than I would have expected yesterday.”

  “Thank you for your inspiring words,” David said. He took the pillow behind his back and used it to smother his face.

  “Remember I’ll still love you even when you lose,” James said. “That is, as long as you remember not to be an insufferable twit about it.”

  David’s reply was muffled into the pillow.

  The door opened and Latasha burst through. “Guys,” she said. “Local news. Turn it on now.”

  “What’s going on?” James asked.

  Latasha grabbed the remote and tuned it to the local news channel. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said. James got her attention and directed it to David, who still had the pillow over his face. She snatched the pillow off David’s head and then smacked him with it. “Pay attention,” she said, and pointed to the monitor. On it was a video of Touie Touie, at a podium.

  “What’s he doing?” David asked.

  “He’s quitting the race,” Latasha said.

  “Bullshit,” David said.

  Latasha shook her head. “Not bullshit. Local news found evidence that he’s been running a graft scheme. He’s been asexually budding and having the younger versions of himself bid for city contracts. Then he was bribing his dearly-departed boss to lobby the other council members and the mayor to vote his way. The moderator was going to drop the bombshell on him at last night’s debate, but then your thing happened. So they just broke it a couple of hours ago, and this is his reaction.” She turned up the volume.

  “…And so it becomes necessary for me to step down from the council race in order to devote my full attention to fighting these baseless and outrageous accusations against myself and my bud-clones,” Touie was saying. “I’m certain we will all be vindicated, and when we are you can bet I’ll be back to fight for the citizens of the third district—” Latasha muted the sound.

  “Holy shit,” James said, after a long minute. “You know what this means.”

  “Hold that thought,” Latasha said, and reached into her purse. She took out a piece of paper and a pen, and handed both to David. “Sign this, please,” she said.

  David took the paper. “What is it?”

  “It’s you telling my Masters’ program that I’ve fulfilled all my community service requirements, so they can give me my credits,” Latasha said.

  David signed the paper and gave it back to Latasha. “Thank you,” she said, and then turned back to James. “You were about to say that it means that David will actually win the election. But I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “Wait, what?” David said. “You think I’m going to lose to Nukka Farn Mu? The guy who wants to eat pets?”

  “It’s a very strong possibility,” Latasha said.

  “The guy whose only campaign position is to eat pets,” David said.

  “Yes,” Latasha said.

  “Pet smorgasbord man,” David said.

  Latasha sighed. “Look, David,” she said. “I have friends in other city hall offices. In other city council offices. And they’re telling me that the mayor and the other council members are very seriously considering endorsing Nukka Farn Mu. The superficial reason is that the third district is the only district in the city in which a non-human is likely to win a seat on the council, and it looks good for the city to have that.”

  “But all he wants to do is eat pets,” David said. “I know I sound like I’m unusually focused on this point, but I do think it’s relevant.”

  “And that’s the real reason they want him on the council,” Latasha said. “The rest of the council doesn’t actually care about interspecies diversity, David. Don’t be naïve. They want someone on the city council they can use. Let’s say the mayor and the rest of the council go to Nukka Farn Mu and say, we will pa
ss a resolution funding a feasibility study on the subject of pet consumption, and all you have to do is promise your thumbs-up on certain key votes. Nukka Farn Mu is happy because he’ll get what he wants, and the city council is happy because they get what they want. Then four years from now, when Touie Touie’s beaten the rap, he’ll take over the third district seat, and everything’s back to normal. The only one who loses in this scenario is you.”

  “And the pets,” James said.

  Latasha glanced at him briefly then turned her attention back to David. “My point is that the fix is already in. Before, when Touie was running, there wasn’t anything anyone could have done about it. But now there’s actually a chance to have someone in the office who isn’t completely corrupt. That’s you, David. You have a chance to do some good. It’s just a matter of getting you in there.” She reached into her purse and brought out a folded piece of paper.

  “I already signed that,” David said.

  “It’s a different paper, you moron,” Latasha said. “Really. After all the nice things I just said about you. Take it and read it.”

  David took it and read it. “This says you’re resigning as my campaign manager,” he said.

  “I am,” Latasha said. “David, when I became your campaign manager it wasn’t because I actually wanted to be your campaign manager. It was because Touie Touie told me that if I became your campaign manager, after everything was done he’d give me an internship in his office. He said he didn’t think he’d have any serious competition for the seat, but that if he did, having you in there to peel off the human vote would probably work in his favor. So he wanted to be sure you ran a halfway credible campaign.”

  “You just said he was a crook,” David said. “Why would you want to work for him?”

  “He was a crook who couldn’t lose,” Latasha said. “And I thought I needed that internship. But it turns out running your campaign satisfies my program requirements just fine. And I have deep philosophical problems with Nukka Farn Mu, not in the least because I have two cats.”