Darren looked out the window of his third-story office; he used to enjoy this panoramic view of the nearby park. But it was no longer filled with family picnics or strolling lovers; now, a jumbled scattering of tents formed a gigantic homeless camp. The smoke that used to rise from barbecues now poured out of flaming garbage cans. Lying openly on the wide paths between tents were filthy, rail-thin people, shivering in the throes of opioid-induced ecstasy. The others simply stepped over them, hardly taking another look.

He heard footsteps pass by his door; whirling around, he caught a glimpse of his office manager. “Carol!” he called out, the fear in his voice palpable. “Are they here yet?”

Carol poked her head through the doorway. “Not yet, Mayor Glenleavy,” she soothed. “They’ve got another fifteen minutes.” She looked at him with a concerned expression. “Are you all right?”

He resumed pacing the floor in his office. “I’ve been dreading this moment for months, but now I wish it would just happen, so I can get this over with.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me saying,” Carol consoled, “I’ve worked for this city for over thirty years, and God willing, until the day I retire. I’ve seen mayors come and go; I’ve also seen problems come and go. This too will pass!”

Darren slumped in his chair. “I want to believe that, I truly do. But this time, I really think it’s different.” He fixed Carol with an intense gaze. “Can you remember a time when things were this bad?”

Carol stood there, pondering for a moment. Darren motioned with his arm. “Please, come inside and have a seat. Pour yourself a drink, if you’d like.”

“Much obliged, sir!” Carol walked to the liquor cabinet, fetched a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and poured herself a double. Darren didn’t say or do anything to stop her. She took her drink and settled into a nearby armchair, smiling at him sweetly.

“I remember things got this bad in the late sixties. Lots of rioting, widespread disrespect for authority…but that finally quieted down.”

“Do you remember how?” he asked. “I tried to model my response on what cities did back then, but obviously I’ve missed something huge.”

Carol sipped her whiskey before continuing. “For one, the economy was better in those days. We used to manufacture things here.”

“Well, that’s ancient history,” Darren griped. “Heavy industry moved out decades ago; the city’s never been the same.” He laughed. “Funny, isn’t it? We really thought free trade would lead to other nations adopting our way of life. Instead, all it did was fund their way of life, and entrench it deeper. We gave away our future and made our adversaries stronger.” Darren winced before continuing. “Without employment, workers moved away, leaving behind people dependent on the government, and the criminals that prey on them.”

He turned his chair to look out the window. “I tried to appeal to young hipsters — tech workers that could do their job remotely. And for a while, that worked; they liked the scrappy chic of our inner city, as well as the cheap rent. They brought in much needed money. But as the place got cleaned up, rents rose, causing many of them to decamp for cheaper locations with a hipster kitsch. The rioting drove out the rest.”

He turned back to look at Carol. “So the economy is moribund. Anything else I missed about those times?”

“Part of it was people got what they wanted,” Carol recalled. “The military draft ended; elected officials were no longer just white males. But that was then. What do they want this time?”

“That’s the problem,” Darren anguished. “This time, the protesters want to defund the police. And I did that. But now, violence has skyrocketed in a way we’ve never seen before. Things are so bad, even if I could get funding to restore law-enforcement jobs, there are very few takers. And the protests have continued, uninterrupted.”

“What else do they say they want?”

Darren winced. “That’s just it. The rest of their demands are insane! They want free housing, free food, free money, free everything! They think it’s my job to let them live at home with mommy and daddy forever! They’re not protesters, they’re overgrown babies!”

“That may be,” Carol observed, “but it doesn’t help that you won’t press charges against them. Why is that?”

Darren hung his head. “I was too young to be part of the social-justice movement of the late sixties, but I wish I could have been. And when these protests started, I was overjoyed; I thought I could finally lead a massive march against the corrupt establishment, and force historic changes. But these people aren’t the revolutionaries of long ago; back then, violence was a way to get attention, and the cause was always more important. These days, the violence seems to be more important, and the cause shifts to maintain an excuse for civic destruction. They seem to literally be opposed to common sense! And now all we have is chaos, and yet they still cry out for more!” Darren sobbed. “I thought I could get out in front of this, but that only let them stab me in the back.”

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“There’s one other major difference between then and now,” Carol said, pointing at him. “They deployed the National Guard. Several thousand in each city.”

“That would mean I’ve admitted failure,” Darren grieved. “I’ve spoken out in favor of their cause so many times; by doing so, I lost the support of half the population. If I turn around and clamp down on the riots, I’ll lose the other half.”

The sound of people outside his office startled them both. Carol quickly downed the rest of her drink. “I admit, sir, you’ve given me quite a puzzler. But this, too, shall pass.”

“Will I still be mayor when it does?” Darren griped.

She only gave him a cryptic smile as she left his office. Darren sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he heard Carol say. “The mayor is waiting for you in his office.”

“Isn’t it a little early for hard liquor?” he heard one of them say.

“Not if you had my job!” Carol quipped. That brought a round of appreciative laughter. Darren took a deep breath and rose from his chair.

Through the door walked a young man with bright red hair, followed by five distinguished-looking older gentlemen. The young man extended his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Mayor, I’m Eric Thompson.”

Darren shook the offered hand absentmindedly. “Won’t you please sit down.”

After all had taken their seats, Eric spoke up. “As you may know, my colleagues here represent investment firms that own nearly eighty-five percent of the city’s outstanding debts.”

“I recognize them,” Darren mumbled. “But who are you?”

“I work for a firm called Unlimited Partners. And, to put it mildly, I’m here to solve everyone’s problems.”

Darren snorted a short laugh. “Lofty words from a company I’ve never heard of.”

Eric smiled. “Don’t worry, you will soon. Everyone will.” He looked around the room; his colleagues nodded politely. Eric continued. “Mr. Mayor, I’ve come here today to present you with a deal that absolves the city of all of its debts and obligations, and lets you off the hook for any future consequences.”

Darren was taken aback. “What? I was expecting to turn over ownership of prime plots of city-owned land, or our landmark architecture.”

Eric shook his head. “No, not at all.” He raised one eyebrow. “Not in pieces, at least.”

Darren looked uneasy. “What are you saying?”

Eric proffered a piece of paper. “This is the deal memo. The full contract will be presented to the city’s legal department right after this meeting. Put simply…in exchange for assuming responsibility for all outstanding city debt, and any and all of its other obligations…management of the city’s affairs will be turned over to Unlimited Partners.”

Darren jolted upright. “You can’t do that!”

“Actually, I can,” Eric claimed. “We’ve done this with several small towns across the country. This is the largest city for which it’s been attempted, but it’s not really that different.”

“But…what would the state think?” Darren flustered.

“I’ve already spoken with them,” Eric explained. “They have their own problems, and ultimately, they want whatever will make the city’s debtholders happy…as in, these gentlemen right here.” Eric leaned in. “The bottom line is, the city is bankrupt, the state won’t bail you out, civil order has collapsed, your debtholders own you, and this is the only way they’ll ever see a dime from their investments.”

Darren scanned the deal memo frantically. “But what about my reputation?”

“What about it?” Eric countered. “As it stands, you’re known as the mayor that let it all go to heck. Do you really think it’s going to get any better?”

Darren stared nervously at Eric, and swallowed hard. “How can this be legal?”

“Bankruptcy makes a lot of things legal,” Eric reminded. “A few years back, the federal government saved a national automaker by arbitrarily splitting off its liabilities and forming a new company to own them. Say what you will about the ethics and legality of such a move, but it happened.” Eric settled back in his chair. “We’re not proposing anything that drastic. We intend to keep the entire city, and restore all of it to be the sort of place good people would want to live.”

Darren continued to scan the deal memo. “As you may have read by now,” Eric interjected, “the deal is contingent on the city’s legal department signing off on it. We’re confident they will; it’s very similar to the terms and conditions we presented to smaller towns when we took over their operations. Your signature just means they can go ahead with their analysis. You’re otherwise not agreeing to much…at least, not by yourself.”

Darren finished reading; his shoulders slumped. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Eric leaned forward and looked Darren in the eye. “I’m offering you a solution to all your political problems. You’ll be able to walk out that door with a huge burden lifted from your back. How can you say no to that?”

Darren stared fiercely at the memo. The debtholders leaned in, expectantly. With a quick flourish, Darren grabbed a pen and scribbled his signature on the dotted line, and finished by slamming the pen down on the desk.

In response to that sound, the debtholders jumped out of their seats, cheering and congratulating each other. Eric, standing, snatched the memo away from the mayor. “Best decision you ever made in your life, Mr. Glenleavy. I’ll have Mrs. O’Donoghue make a copy for you.” He tapped a few times on his phone, then smiled. “The contract is now in the city’s hands.”

Without warning, several people in blue jumpsuits entered the office. As Eric and his colleagues walked out, they swarmed all over, taking notes at a furious pace. Through the door, Darren could see similar people in the larger office area, doing the same thing.

“Hey!” Darren yelled. “Who the hell are these people?”

“They’re taking inventory,” Eric explained. “We need to know what we have. As for you, Mr. Glenleavy, you’ll probably want to pack your belongings and go home. Just don’t take anything that isn’t yours…because we’ll know.” With that, Eric left.

Darren gaped at the throng of blue-jumpsuited workers. He finally noticed each suit had a company logo, a stylized U and P overlapping slightly. He continued to stare in confusion as they went about their business.

Carol entered with his copy of the deal memo, her face awash with a smirk. On her blouse was pinned a shiny badge, consisting of the same logo.

“Welcome to Millenniaburg, Darren,” she trilled.