DAWN OF OUR DISCONTENT

From the R.M. Dolin novel, "What Is to Be Done"
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Chapter 28: Dawn of Our Discontent

“Good riddance,” Armando sighs as the door closes behind the Texans, “way more freaking drama than any bar needs.”

Jake stares at the adobe wall wrapping his mind around what’s happened. He struggles to put the last ten minutes in context. Prioritizing what needs done, he texts Chance.

“Stay home til I get there . . . Do not let Sympatico out of your sight but don’t alarm her. . . Trust only Dario. . .remember what’s in the flowerpot.”

Jake left Chance the extra cell phone he uses for running credit cards at special events, like next week’s wine fiesta in Albuquerque. Chance accidentally learns about the pistol in the flowerpot while Jake’s showing him the spare key location. Dario gets a similar text with slightly more information. In less than a minute Chance texts back, “What the f@#*?” Jake responds that he’ll bring him up to speed when he gets home. Dario’s response is expectedly short and simple, “got it“.

Armando’s on his way to Jake’s table for an update when Preston and Theo arrive. “Barkeep!” Preston jovially calls out, “two pints of your best cream stout for me and my comrade.”

“What the hell is cream stout?” Armando snorts.

“It’s what’s left of last week’s twelve-pack.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Cabron.” Preston points to the beer in the bar-back cooler with an alien and outer space motif. “Did it ever occur to you, that a goofy looking beer is probably goofy tasting?”

“No man, this stuff’s great.”

“Certainty ain’t Coors that’s for sure.”

“Finally, something to agree on.”

The thing about intellectuals, they’re punctual. Within seconds Jon, Dominic and Dwayne saunter in. “Sorry I’m late,” Jon apologizes. “Some punk-ass Cholo’s going like forty and I can’t get around.” He points to Dominic and Dwayne. “Don’t know what their excuse is.”

“Dominic wouldn’t leave until he completed some bullshit crap on his computer,” Dwayne scoffs.

“I told you,” Dominic defends, “it’s for our meeting.”

“Talk to the hand,” Dwayne gestures.

“Where’s Dario?” Preston asks.

“He won’t be joining us,” Jake answers getting up from the table. “taking care of something.”

“Might as well get started then.” Jon’s anxious to get the evening back on schedule even though it’s only three minutes after seven.

Armando hands Jake a fresh black bottle cocktail with traditional square ice cubes – in light of what’s gone down. Since there’s no formal seating chart, everyone assumres in their usual seats.

Jake waits patiently as they ready their electronics. “Gentlemen, as members of the American’s for a New America we are engaged in peaceful activities to improve our Republic at the expense of those who do damage. In so doing, we endeavor to ensure the nation we’ve devoted our lives protecting is preserved. The activities we undertake are in no way intended to provide opportunities to our enemies or damage our citizens. We are independent of any and all organizations and have no goals or objectives other than those thus stated.”

“So let it be written,” Jon adds.

“So let it be said,” Theo finishes by clanking bottles in mutual amusement.

Jake considers the context of what’s just transpired relative to Theo’s recent announcement. A medium height Scandinavian with once broad shoulders on a rapidly withering frame, the thing about Theo is he’s dying; at least that’s his calculus. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had just finished round two of chemo when the pandemic hit, doctors are now more interested in the highly profitable pandemic treatment enterprise than other traditional illnesses. No one points fingers, but fifteen years ago Theo briefly worked at the Nevada Test Site doing down-hole experiments. There was an event one afternoon and he, along with several colleagues, got a plutonium up-take. Theo’s the last survivor; probably because he was farthest from the flash point when things went bad. He’s not bitter; he accepted the risk. It’s just that he’s not yet ready to accept defeat. The boys don’t gossip about his chances, but they’ve each independently run the numbers and in their emotionally detached assessments, things don’t end well.

“Okay,” Jake continues. “We have a lot to cover before the old man arrives. Our most pressing issue is whether or not to proceed with phase-two prelaunch or continue beta post-ops associated with phase-one. At our last meeting we voted to delay making a decision.”

“Per tradition,” Theo jokes.

Jake shoots him a stern look. “I was leaning toward phase-two re-launch, but in light of today’s developments I advocate delay.”

Everyone but Armando looks at Jake in stunned surprise. “Miguel just left,” Armando offers.

“He wants Sympatico back,” Jake adds. There’s a long pause as each man considers short-term impacts relative to long-term implications. They quickly run multiple scenarios, all more or less reaching the same conclusion. Like silhouettes on night, the silence of their thoughts amplifies the seriousness of their situation.

After what increasingly feels like an untenable pause, Dominic shatters the stillness. “You told him no, right?”

“Of course! But here’s the deal, he isn’t welshing on his wager. He even offered to give me two other girls in exchange. He wants her.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Theo logically states.

“He said if I don’t agree he’ll make me wish I had.”

“That’s where Dario’s at,” Preston realizes. Jake nods in dire agreement.

“Okay,” Dominic interrupts. “I’m going to say what needs to be said. What’s been on everyone’s mind since Cinco de Mayo. It’s clear we’re on a detour. Maybe it’s fate, I don’t know. We’re men of science, right? I mean I get we’re on this noble quest to rescue the country from self-destruction, but we can’t pretend to be junior members of the Justice League and ignore what’s going on in our own front yard.”

“Knowing something needs to be done,” Dwayne scoffs, “is separate from having what it takes to execute.”

Theo can’t let that lie. “You’re saying we can take on the most powerful Oligarchs in history no problemo, but not a local bandito?”

Jon jumps in before Dwayne can respond. “What the hell, we have to act. It’s a matter of morality. We have to suspend pre-launch and put Miguel’s out of business, and rescue whatever other girls he’s holding.”

While Jon and Dominic are clearly acting on emotion, Theo remains logically calm. “We’re more effective attacking the problem from the top. Let’s be real, we have the capacity for doing, whatever you call what we’re doing, but dealing with Miguel requires a completely different skill set.”

Preston weighs in. “I agree with both arguments. Taking Miguel down has to be done, but unless we attack the broader problem, what’s the point? At the end of the day Miguel’s expendable. It’s cold, even callous, but his girls replaceable. We can’t rescue them, only to condemn replacements to the same fate.”

“Well said,” Dominic echoes. He along with everyone else is already immersed in running scenarios and projecting outcomes, with each independently arriving at the singular conclusion.

“There’s another twist,” Armando interjects with apprehension. “Our Mexicans were here with two amigos. One of the new guys wanted desperately to start something with Miguel but his friends blocked him. I’m pretty sure it was something about his daughter.”

If possible, the room turns even more stoically serious, like the way a forest gets just before a lightning strike. The very air is filled with a charge measured in units of trepidation. While they do empathize with the anguish any father feels, these PhDs are trained to think, plan, and problem solve devoid of emotion. What others may view as a cold objectification of human suffering they take as an examination of facts for the purpose of realizing an outcome. “Preston’s right,” Dominic offers, “taking Miguel down has to be done. At the same time, what we plan nationally is simply an outward manifestation; for me they’re integrated?”

“Recognize, Cabrons, we’d be expanding into very different arenas. These men, they cannot be stopped by hacking computers and manipulating data.”

“Au contraire,” Preston counters. “In the information age everyone’s vulnerable to data. We just need to determine how to exploit their vulnerabilities.”

“What if we turn the Watchers on them?” Dominic wonders.

“We’d need a context, unless there’s a profit motive, government’s not interested in human trafficking, if they were, the problem would have long ago been dealt with.”

“We could make it political?” Dwayne offers.

“But first, Cabron, we have to figure out who Miguel works for.”

“And before things escalate,” Theo cautions.

“We’re in agreement then,” Jake states with finality. The boys nod understanding what this means both globally and locally; as well as personally.

“I’ll inform Marcos,” Preston offers. “His crew can figure out who’s pulling Miguel’s string and why Sympatico matters.”

“Dario can do an initial Ops assessment,” Theo adds.

“Rescuing all Miguel’s girls takes money.” Jake delegates. “Jon, Theo, work up funding strategies.”

“How much we need?” Theo asks.

“Let’s assume twenty girls at $10k per girl,” Dominic answers.

“Where do we source?” Jon asks.

“I’d say raid the colored accounts of the California delegation,” Jon suggests. “They can’t report that money missing.”

“I’d rather raid the President’s slush fund,” Theo counters. “Since Clinton, I’ve become a huge fan of limiting how much presidents pocket.”

“I like it. And.” Jake grins at Armando, “add an extra grand to cover my bar bill.” Before Armando can respond, Jake continues. “Preston, work up logistics for getting the girls home. We have to involve the migrant underground, unless Padre’s a better source.”

“Padre?” Preston questions.

“Only as a last resort.” Jake continues. “I’ll get Dario going on Ops. That’s really all we can do for now. So, let’s do a quick update of where we are with respect to our other activities. Preston, whatta ya got in forensics?”

Preston pushes a report to everyone’s laptop. “Turns out, Jake’s new assistant was involved in a little incident in Wyoming.”

“Little?” Dwayne scoffs, reading ahead.

“Okay serious. But I think you’ll agree Todd’s a good kid that got screwed doing what’s right.” Preston looks at Jake. “Have you had your ‘talk’ yet?”

“No, but it’s on my list.”

“We’ve helped people reset in the past, and Todd’s a good candidate for restoration.”

“Let’s wait,” Jake cautions. “Till we’ve had our talk.”

“That’s all I have then.”

Jake looks at Jon. “What’s up in Cyber Ops?”

“I reached out to Marcos, for an update on their ‘Watch the Watchers’ project, but he hasn’t got back. And, I may have jumped the gun, but remember how I was testing the vulnerability of the educational system? Well, I sort of made Todd a PhD.”

“What!” Dominic shouts. “You can’t fabricate degrees.”

“Oh please,” Jon barks back. “Everyone knows east coast schools are just a sanctuary for marginal minds from rich families. I mean it’s not like I made him an engineer.” The boys know Jon’s right but still cast derision. “Come-on guys, we talked about doing this and Todd’s someone who exists, but not really, so he’s perfect.”

“Shoulda started with a Master’s,” Theo challenges.

“Not interesting, and besides, then I’d of been tempted to graduate him from Stanford’s Master’s mill and I wanted to screw with Harvard.”

“Well if we’re talking about Harvard,” Dominic states with stoic authority before bursting out in laughter, “I withdraw my objection.”

“What’s it in?” Preston asks grinning with anticipation.

“Political science,” Jon smirks.

“Harvard peddles those like Girl Scout cookies at a head shop,” Theo adds.

“I considered Law, which is equally worthless, but there’s a certain nomenclature he’d be expected to know.”

“Gentlemen!” Dwayne interjects as he loudly clears his throat. “As Chairman of the Political Action Committee, I’m obligated to raise my objections.” He stoically leans back in his chair, hooks his thumbs behind his suspenders, and prepares to issue condemnation. When he can no longer contain his reticent demeanor he bursts out laughing, “But I can’t!” The group erupts in boisterous laughter.

“If you think that’s funny,” Jon adds. “Wait till you see what I did to screw with Congress.”

Armando groans. “Not another sex scandal?”

“So cliché,” Dominic sighs.

“Way better guys, you know how Congress never reads bills before voting right? And how they anonymously insert amendments when properly bribed?”

“What did you do?” Dwayne pries.

“Now keep in mind I’m did this in the interest of penetrating their fire wall to test our detection avoidance capability. So,” He looks around the room to make sure the suspense his properly fermenting. “there’s an omnibus spending bill working its way through Congress and, well, I sorta inserted something.” Jon grabs a document from his satchel and holds it like a Town Crier bellowing out his proclamation:

“In the august opinion of this United States Congress, we affirm that Canada, our treasured neighbor to the north, has demonstrated such superior governance through their implementation of socialized medicine, business burdened taxes, and open immigration, that to honor their societal superiority, this United States Congress does hereby decree that all bowling alleys in America must convert no less than two existing lanes exclusively for Curling. Failure to comply will result in fines and possible closure, as determined by the to be established Federated Union of Curling Users.”

“You didn’t?” Theo manages to ask between bursts of laughter.

“Nice job on the acronym, Cabron.”

“Once the President signs it,” Jon shouts past his laughter, “I’m going to issue a White House press release extolling the virtues of this amendment for the way it encourages children to become more physically active. I’ll call for the immediate creation of the FUCU.”

“Simply brilliant,” Dominic adds. “So absurdly Washington, no one will question it’s authenticity.”

“The Liberals will embrace the spirit of the amendment for the way it acknowledges inherent truisms regarding Canadian governance,” Dwayne commands.

“And of course the idiots in the liberal press will fall in line,” Dominic adds.

“Meanwhile, the Right will insists it’s part of the President’s grand scheme to cede America to our Leftist neighbors,” Theo counters.

“The new world order,” Preston cajoles.

The boys continue lambasting the utter stupidity of Washington, laughing through multiple scenarios of how Jon’s amendment plays out. “Okay gentlemen,” Jake finally restores order. “On that low note, I’d like to move on.” He looks at Jon with seriousness. “Could you sneak another amendment into your bill? Something that rights a long-standing wrong.”

“Go on,” Jon answers.

“I’d like the NCAA to provide a real college education to their athletes. Not the bullshit paper courses they set up to maintain eligibility. I propose that for every year an athlete is under scholarship, he or she becomes eligible for a full expense paid year to be used after their athletic tenure.”

“What if they don’t want to go to school?” Preston asks.

“Or better yet,” Dewayne scoffs, “they can’t get through to graduation.”

“No expiration, transferable to other family member, and can be used at any college or university.”

“You realize,” Jon muses, “there’ll be a shit storm of controversy. Even more than mandating curling.”

“Why this all of a sudden, Cabron?”

“Someone with bizarrely surreal insight pointed out my need for perspective,” Jake solemnly answers before moving on. “Okay, is there anything else before we close?”

“Wait!” Dominic interrupts. “I have an update on my analysis. This is why I was late.” He proudly passes around his printout. “Last week’s discussion on the food riots and the University of New Hampshire study got me thinking about financial impacts to my Tax Freedom simulation. That led me to add a new module factoring in aspects of the ‘Happiness Index’.

“The metric for measuring a country’s willingness for war?” Jon questions.

“It measures people’s willingness to pursue aggressive measures toward change,” Preston clarifies.

“In other words, revolution?” Dewayne scoffs.

“Revolution is one outcome,” Dominic concedes. “So are protests and unrest. Government’s measure the happiness of their citizens as a precursor to the kind of uprisings we saw in France in the fifties and here in the sixties. It’s the reason we pulled out of Viet Nam. When protesters openly disregarded the draft, what began as student outrage quickly expanded to civil rights, women’s rights, and migrant workers rights. Governments understand all too well that waves of anarchy build once catalysts coalesce.”

“Where are we now?” Preston asks.

“Like anything, there’s the published number and real number. The published value says every thing’s hunky dory.”

“And the real number, Cabron?”

“Homeland security just stockpiled ten thousand rounds of ammunition for every man, woman and child in the country, you tell me?”

“Look at everything going on,” Preston interjects. “From our dysfunctional government to corrupt banking, to the military industrial complex running amok, to terrorists taking over towns, and of course the government releasing their pandemic to re-establish control.”

“Think it through gentlemen,” Jake concludes, “The dawn of our discontent stands on the unsettled horizon of governmental hubris; if I’m allowed to borrow from Steinbeck.”

“Who lifted it from Shakespeare,” Theo corrects.

“Based on preliminary analysis,” Dominic continues, “And bear in mind I still have to work on parameter validation and data contextualization, it appears, given current trends, the government becomes insolvent in twenty years and when they do, we fall straight into anarchy?”

“I’m not sure I buy that,” Preston grumbles.

“The index accurately predicted both World Wars and the current Middle East quagmire.”

“Those events were modeled post-facto. Give me enough knobs and I can make any hydro-dynamic code predict the sun will explode tomorrow.”

“Or that two-hundred million will die from our virus,” Theo adds. “Like that lame-ass government sponsored University of Washington model.”

“Fair enough,” Dominic concedes. “So, I adjust the parameters to suit any argument you want and my estimated ‘go-live’ date slides up or down the timeline but either way, insolvency coupled with anarchy is inevitable.”

“Unless we alter the timeline,” Jake asserts. A quiet descends on the room as each member digests the implications. Some attempt to frame consequence with respect to what’s going on with Miguel but that’s too huge of a problem.

“On that seriously disturbing note,” Jake offers, “let’s recap. We agree to continue delaying phase-one pre-launch until we resolve the local matter, visa vi the girls under Miguel’s control. Theo and Jon are going to raise cash by raiding the President’s dirty money fund. Marcos will find out about Miguel’s bosses. Dominic will continue developing his simulation. Jon is going to stay away from screwing with legislation after my amendment. And all of us apparently, are going to bone up on Curling.”

The men acknowledge their assignments with smirks and laughter as they put electronics away. Jake slams back his bourbon and stands. “Gentlemen, I unfortunately have pressing matters at home, so you’ll have to gamble without me or my money.”

“We’ll miss your money, Cabron.” The guys understand Jake’s early departure is indicative of how, from this point forward, things are different; irreversibly different.

“You need help with anything?” Preston offers.

“No, I’ll activate emergency protocols if something happens.” He makes eye contact person by person, “so keep your powder dry.” With that, Jake quietly walks out of the bar into the stark reality of a destiny they must fulfill. The PhDs stare after Jake feeling the universal gravity of dark matter pull their collective thoughts toward an obvious apex. Jake’s ominous warning is the final punctuation on an evening filled with dramatic direction shift and intense settling of both burdens and responsibilities. From this point forward two things are intrinsically clear. First, the bitching and complaining that initially gave rise to the ANA before evolving into intellectual dalliances and hypothetical means-testing just got real; very real. Second, based on the perpetual motion of events unfolding, fate has yet to be declared as friend or foe.