The Child's Lobby
“Are we so frightened we must do this thing?” Lobbyman Brunt’s voice carried across the broad chamber, and there was a rumble of assent at his words.
“Do not let this man sway you!” That was Gress, the youngest Lobbyman on the Council, and the most vocal. The young ones often were, and foolish to boot. This one spoke sense, but at such a volume it seemed like lunacy. He was fiery and aggressive, something the Council sorely needed, but for all the talk from the mouth of Gress, Brunt wasn’t convinced the young man had anything but a lust for power concealed under his polished exterior.
“Point of order!” Brunt called, and the Arbiter nodded. Gress would get the chance to make his remarks in due time, and could at least have the courtesy to allow those twenty years his senior on the council to have their say.
“You will not interrupt again, Gress,” the elderly man on the raised dais at the front of the chamber said, and the room went silent. The Arbiter rarely spoke, but his dislike of the young Lobbyman had been clear from the day Gress stepped through the bronze doors. Gress was not punished unduly; the Arbiter knew the law and knew well how to use it, meaning Gress never had reason to complain. Arbiters had been overthrown in the past, but the current one, Baeli, was no fool. He’d put in his time as a Lobbyman and knew all the tricks in the book.
Fixing Gress with a glare, Arbiter Baeli spoke again, more softly. “If you feel that your words cannot wait, then by all means speak. Know, however, that section 4.15.29a of our code means that only your first word will be heard. As soon as it leaves your lips, our dedicated guardsmen,” Baeli indicated the two men who stood just below him, “will be only to glad to escort you into the hallway, where you can finish the rest of your remarks in peace.”
Whispers ran around the room as the Arbiter spoke, but Gress only smiled back at the man in front of him. Wisely, he did not open his mouth to respond, but instead nodded his head sharply.
“Lobbyman Brunt, please continue.”
“Thank you, Arbiter,” Brunt said quietly. “As I was saying,” he raised his voice so the other three hundred Lobbymen and Recorders could hear him, “are we certain this is the best course of action? We are supposedly men of reason, brothers, and men of action only when that reason compels us to be so. Make no mistake, and do not try to hide from the simple fact that this matter concerns a single child – not a monster, hardly a threat, and one that gives us the opportunity to damn or save ourselves and our very Council. Heed my words, brothers, and do not do this thing.”
He gestured to Gress, and the younger man rose, tugging sharply on his jacket as he moved forward into the center of the chamber.
“Thank you, Lobbyman Brunt,” Gress said, “your words are, as always, well thought-out and wise.” There was an oiliness about Gress, a slickness that made Brunt’s stomach twist whenever the other man came to close. “But I do have a small bone to pick with my esteemed colleague – ‘hardly a threat’ seems like a gross understatement, to me.”
Brunt held his tongue. Gress was trying to rile him up, and if he should speak the Arbiter would be obligated to deliver the same punishment he had threatened for Gress. Brunt was no fool, but that didn’t stop his blood from heading toward a slow boil. Men like Gress were ruining the Council, and no one seemed to care.
“Is our captive a child?” Gress asked, walking a slow circle around the marble floor of the room. “Yes, that is hardly under debate.” He held up a hand, and extended one finger.
“Is she a monster?” Gress held out a second finger, and shook his head. “Not at all. I have met the young woman, and a sweeter soul could not be found. She intends no harm toward any of us, I am sure of it.”
Brunt frowned. What was Gress doing? He had expected violent opposition to all of his points, but looking around the room, he could see men he knew and trusted beginning to warm to the younger man as his seeming reasonableness came through.
“But,” Gress paused in the center of the room, and turned his gaze toward the arbiter, “is she a threat?” He pulled his fingers in and held up a closed fist. “Absolutely.”
Brunt could hear murmured agreement from behind him. Gress was winning the others over.
“Explain yourself, Gress,” the Arbiter said, his eyes dark.
“Of course, Arbiter,” the Lobbyman said with a smooth bow. Turning back toward those assembled, his face took on a solemn cast. “Think about it, my friends. Our young captive has been the unfortunate recipient of a large dose of solar radiation. Thanks to that unintended exposure, she now has the capability to level entire cities, should she be angry enough and have access to a source of power, such as the sun.”
Brunt raised a hand, and waited patiently for Gress to acknowledge him. He would not make the same mistake as his colleague.
“Yes, Lobbyman Brunt?”
“I do not see how that makes her a threat. The power is there, yes, but not the motivation. As you said, she will not harm any of us.”
Gress smiled. “Not yet.” He turned his smile to the crowd. “I told you she is a child, gentlemen, and did not lie in that, but she is close to becoming a woman. Close to undergoing the rigors and pains of adolescence and early adulthood – the mood swings and emotional turmoil that each one of us has felt. In short – she is a ticking time bomb, and we must snuff out the fuse.”
“You cannot mean…” Brunt assumed Gress was petitioning for lifetime house arrest, and had never dreamed the other man would suggest such a thing. Even the Arbiter seemed stunned, and did not dress him down for his outburst.
“I do!” Gress raised his voice to a shout. “For the good of all, brothers – she must die, and we must learn all we can about her condition. Safety, above all else!”
Brunt could feel the mood changing in the room, the open-minded goodwill of the Lobbyman darkening to closed and fetid fear.
“Vote!” Gress called, and Brunt felt his stomach sink.
They were going to kill her.
- D
No comments:
Post a Comment