Lawrence

The crowd cheered for Justin Roland as he walked over to the stage, waving at them with his signature grin. Lawrence sulked in a corner for the presidential debate to be over. Why couldn’t they just do it over TV like normal people?

Mr. Roland had insisted that the debate be held publicly. Something about giving people the truth or something along those lines. Lawrence was functioning on four hours of sleep so he wasn’t exactly in the best shape to pay attention.

Mr. Norton, the reigning president, smiled and waved at the public, but he was met with boos and jeers. Mr. Roland shot him a wink, which he purposefully ignored, and spoke into the mic, “People of the great nation of Lucidea. I-”

“Now, hold your horses, pal,” Mr. Roland chimed in before the old man could so much as finish a sentence. “What exactly do you mean by the people of Lucidea? Are you not answerable to people from other great nations? Are you saying that people from other countries don’t matter to ya?”

A rousing applause of “Yeah!” and “Fuck him!” followed. Mr. Norton was taken aback. “T-that’s not what I-”

“I’ll cut to the chase,” said Mr. Roland, gripping the mic with two fingers and leaning on the podium. His eyes carried a somber expression. “People, I’m no great hero. Some might say, I don’t even deserve to stand here. And they’re right. I don’t.”

A wave of deafening silence washed over the crowd.

“I’m not standing here because I want to, or because I’ve earned the right to lead this country. No, my good people. I’m standing here because the government of our country has left me no choice. I cannot stand by and watch while the people we trust to lead us trample over the lives of our fellow men. I can’t stand by and watch as the people with whom I share my home are exploited before my very eyes.”

The crowd burst into a roar of applause. Hoots. Whistles. Cheers. Roland smiled and waved as the people did his work for him.

“What a load of baloney,” a soft voice whispered from Lawrence’s left. It was Patricia. Or as he knew her, Caroline Winters. She wore her work pantsuit and held a cigarette between her fingers.

Lawrence answered in a low voice, “I-I think it’s a good speech. Very catchy.”

Patricia sighed contemptuously, “You don’t have to pretend to be impressed while he’s not listening. See the first three rows of the crowd? He’s paid them to put on a show.”

Lawrence squinted to look at the forefront of the crowd. The people were dressed in Blink merchandise from head to toe and seemed to be enjoying the debate with an almost cartoonish fervor. They cheered with every word that left Roland’s mouth and everyone behind them simply followed the wave of excitement.

Mr. Norton somehow managed to take charge of the conversation back from Roland. “Our great nation has persisted for over five hundred years because wise people, like you folks, trusted us to lead you to glory. Tell me, who led the last remnants of humanity after the nuclear war and delivered us from the brink of extinction? Who forged the Treaty to ensure that another war like that shall never ever take place? My dear folks, it was none other than the great, the benevolent, the magnificent- Zachary Barnabas Norton. I carry his legacy as I carry his blood within my veins, and I shall not rest until our great nation knows peace.”

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Patricia crushed the cigarette beneath her heels. “I’m going home. Just keep an eye on him, will you?”

Lawrence gave her a nervous nod. Trent’s words still rang inside his head. “God’s work”. Lawrence had never believed in God, but he knew full well what he had meant. His days of employment at the biggest company in the world were coming to an end.

By the time he came to his senses, Patricia had disappeared behind the sea of paid hooting fanboys. So, he stood alone in the corner, worrying about his future when a hefty arm slapped him across the back.

He turned around to see a rotund man with mousy whiskers laughing with a hand over his considerable stomach. “What’s got you down, my son? Not enjoying the debate? Those lads are positively brimming with energy, yes, they are.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lawrence, taking a step back. “I don’t believe I recognize you, my good sir. If I may ask, who are you?”

The man played with his whiskers and pushed his glasses up his nose with a smile. “That depends. What side are you on?”

“What do you mean?” asked Lawrence with a puzzled expression.

“Norton or Roland? Old idiot or young idiot, who do you support?”

“Well, Nor-… I mean, I support Mr. Roland, of course. I work for him, in fact,” he nodded, suddenly recalling he was still undercover.

The man slapped him across the back once more. “Attaboy! You’re a good one. Haha! A good one, indeed.”

Lawrence breathed a sigh of relief despite the back pain.

The man extended a chubby arm to shake his hand. “Dr. Boon, at your service. Or you can just call me Arthur if you want.”

“I don’t think I will. But thanks, anyway,” said Lawrence, taking his hand. He’d heard his name before. Right before he’d joined Blink, he’d read a file on this very man.

Dr. Arthur Boon, a pioneer in electric automobiles, and a dear friend of Justin Roland. Trent called him an idiot genius.

“Ha! You’re a funny one. I like you.” Dr. Boon laughed out loud. “Say, I don’t remember seeing you before. When did you say you joined again?”

“About six months ago.”

“And what’s your position?”

“Chief Secretary.”

“Wowzers!” exclaimed Dr. Boon. “That’s a hectic job. You must barely get any sleep.”

“I am happy to work for Mr. Roland,” said Lawrence, searching for a chance to escape. He looked to the stage.

Mr. Roland appeared to be on the offensive now. He bragged about the progress his company had made in hiring Wadin immigrants. Lawrence thought of all the employees he had to terminate. Some of them had been at Blink for over ten years.

“If I may, sir,” asked Lawrence, “why do you support Mr. Roland?”

Dr. Boon laughed. “I have to admit I’m a bit biased, being old chums with him and all. Still, I believe that he is precisely what the country needs right now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll get it someday, son.”

“If you say so. And how long did you say you’ve known him?”

The old man rubbed his chin and contorted his face into a thoughtful frown. He spoke after a short pause. “I’d say about… twenty years. He’s been watching my ass for a long time, that fellow. I’d be in a body bag by now if it weren’t for him. Then again, if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

Lawrence wondered what Dr. Boon meant by the last remark, but he didn’t dare to ask him. Fortunately, the crowd’s uproar got so loud that conversation was impossible. Lawrence shielded his ears from the noise. Boss must’ve made a good joke.

He looked at Dr. Boon. The ‘idiot genius’ was brimming with excitement as he looked at the stage. He jumped every time Roland made a sharp remark about Norton. His body bounced up and down in the air as he enjoyed the display. “Oooh! That was a good one. Complete zinger, that. He can’t possibly follow up on that, can he? Can he? Oh, he did! What fun!”

Maybe, he’s not so bad, after all.

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. There was a message from Patricia:

Don’t get attached. He’s the first one on the chopping block.

Lawrence’s breathing got uneasy. He looked around, shaking, wondering how she had seen him. A cold sweat escaped his body. He surveyed the crowd with squinted eyes darting all over the place. But even after searching multiple times, he couldn’t find her. He felt sick.

“You okay, son?” asked Dr. Boon.

“Yeah,” answered Lawrence with a nod. “I’m just not great with crowds, is all.”