The Next President - I'm Required to Call This Fiction

By Dick Murphy-Scott

The highly unlikely story of a real estate investor running against a lady for President of the United States. Explores all kinds of possibilities about who really runs things. The New World Order and other payers that want to change or very DNA are considered. The question really is, just how do things work? Is everything run out of a cornfield? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dick Murphy-Scott
• Release date: Jan 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386548898

Book preview

Illumination

Morning broke, and I woke when the sunlight hit my face. It was freezing under the bridge, and there were still patches of fog that the light had yet to make its way through. Like cotton floating around the riverbank. This time of day was much colder than it was when I had fallen asleep. A coating of the dew was dampening the cardboard I was sleeping under. My bones were hurting and my muscles stiff. If I didn’t get up and start moving now I’d be in trouble.

It was beautiful under the bridge on River Street. The San Lorenzo river was full and running quickly out to sea. The edge of the forest was in sight, and town was in between me and the sea. This was a good place to be homeless. I loved Santa Cruz. Nowhere else is home.

I pushed off all the cardboard and looked around. A few others had camped by me, but they were still resting. In my pocket I retrieved my Seroquel and took it. Not enough to make me functional, but enough to make sure I’d not see too much. The walk to the clocktower was not long, but my feet were swollen. It seemed to take forever to get there. On the way I passed by many cars with the same bumper sticker. For some reason people were excited that a Ferengi was running for President. People were not worried that it was impossible for the Ferengi to get enough delegates to win the convention. Obviously, the United Federation of Planets would intervene.

I didn’t care, Presidents came and went, nothing really varied. As long as we lived under the founding fathers’ framework, there wouldn’t be much to change. All I wanted was a bottle of Vodka and a beer. That wasn’t going to change anytime soon either.

The sun started to cut the fog into nothingness. I really had to pee, so I did. Then I decided to take a walk.

Today I went towards downtown. The clocktower was the center of my world. Once there, I would pick a destination for the rest of my day. There was a time when hanging out on the Pacific Garden Mall was fun and easy. Now cops asked me to move along and there was a Gap store. The Gap is always the harbinger of doom.

I kept walking past the new additions and down toward the beach. My feet hurt, but I kept walking to the sand. All I wanted was to feel the icy cold water and let my feet deflate.

There was foam on the shore, and birds everywhere. I didn’t see many people around, it felt cold enough to be very early. Time was not real to me anymore. There was a rumbling from my stomach, but nothing was open. The birds had beat me to the trash cans, but I still looked. There was some crackers. They were soggy, but anything tastes good when you hit a certain level of hunger. The container didn’t hold many, but it would do until I could find better. Now I wanted a drink. Water wasn’t what I was thirsty for.

The morning went slowly by. Stores started to open, people were walking about. The sun’s power was finally making it’s way to the sand. It was going to be a nice day.

People walked by me like I wasn’t there. They didn’t want to see me. I was a burden, a wart, a human piece of shit. They didn’t want me around. Much like the stray paper on the ground, I was beyond being useful and was now just so much garbage wandering the streets and blowing around the shore.

I sat on the sand. The ocean was framed by mountains, the sea was far away from me. The bay blocked my view from the open water. It was like my life. Something was always keeping me from seeing the expanse of truth.

I decided to go find a place to get something to eat, then walk up to Mission Street. There was a store that would be open and it sold booze. The throbbing pain from my feet shot up my legs. It was going to be a long walk. I couldn’t remember my feet ever hurting like this. I hoped that it would stop soon.

On the sidewalk a lizard crossed my path. Then I was on the ground. I was not feeling well, and people stopped pretending I wasn’t there. Then the sky went from blue to gray to white.

When I woke up I was being loaded into an ambulance.

Stay down buddy, some guy pushed me down as I tried to get up.

I didn’t want to go any place. Whatever was coming out of my mouth wasn’t getting through to the guys in the ambulance. They were talking in soft tones as they closed the doors and drove off with me.

The ride to the hospital was bumpy. They cut off my shoes. Soon I was hooked up to an IV. I was running a fever, and I fell asleep again.

When I woke up I was still in a hospital room. There was another bed, but I was alone. It had been a long time since I had been on anything cushioned. The smell of clean linen and hospital disinfectant reeked in the room. It just covered over the hint of urine and death that lingered underneath it.

The television was on. I wasn’t able to focus on the news. It was an election year and that was being featured. A fool was talking about one of the clowns running. A nurse came in.

How are you? She asked as she checked things.

I couldn’t really respond, so she checked some more things, Hmm, can you tell me if you take this?

She held up my Seroquel and I nodded.

Can you tell me why? She asked.

Thoughts, was all that would come out.

OK, looks like you had a real nasty infection, maybe we can talk after you’ve had more rest. Right now you’re in a lot better shape than when you came in. I’m going to check on your feet. You lose that toe a while ago?

I nodded. That happened a lifetime ago.

Well, they are still pretty swollen, but looking much better. We will have you out of here soon, the nurse said before she left.

It was very boring laying in bed and not watching TV while it was on. My head was aching. I looked down at my feet and saw they were bright red, but not engorged like before. Twisting my feet and toes, they felt ok. It was nice not to be hungry, but I thought my mind was going numb just being in bed.

Another hour passed, and there was a light knock on the door. I was expecting a doctor or nurse, and it turned out to be a familiar face. It was Strom, my old acquaintance, my half-brother. Today he was dressed like a priest, making a mockery of faith.

Hello DJ, I’ve been looking for you, Strom said.

I couldn’t really speak, so I nodded and listened.

Looks like you got yourself pretty sick, Strom went on, what a sad state for a talented fellow like you to be in. Such a shame. You think you could go back to work for me? Strom asked.

All I did was shrug my shoulders. That made Strom laugh. A nurse came in, saw Strom, and leave. Turning toward the door, Strom went to get something. It was an offer for my old job at the phone company.

You want to be D. John Thurtell again? Strom asked.

I did not, but I didn’t think I had a choice. Strom pulled out a syringe. This will help.

After swabbing my arm, Strom jabbed me. It stung. But after a few minutes, my thinking was clearer. Indeed, I felt better. My feet felt like new. I had to look to make sure that I hadn’t grown back a toe. The red was gone and the swelling disappeared.

Better? Strom asked.

Better, I answered, much better.

Good, you’re verbal again, give it a few more minutes and we’ll get out of here, Strom said.

What’s the deal? I asked.

You and Sam are going to be working for Derrick Topper, Strom said.

The clown running for president?

That’s the guy. Please, don’t refer to him as a clown to his face. If you insult him, it will be hard to keep you placed, Strom explained.

What am I supposed to do? I was in shock.

You are in charge of communications, setting up the phones, the polycoms, getting the security systems on line.

I don’t know how to do any of that, I said, there is no way I’m going to be able to fake it.

You won’t have to, you’re in charge. Other people do the work. At least that stuff. You just follow Sam’s lead, ok? Strom asked.

What about Sean? I asked, I was close to him.

Sean is an interesting question. He’s really involved with Modicum. Even Sam has trouble contacting him now. Modicum is bigger than I thought, Strom said.

Here, he tossed me some clothes, let’s get the hell out of here.

It felt nice to wear clean new clothes. They smelled fresh, and my skin felt a little less like leather. But doing this meant I was going to give up my freedom. I also wasn’t sure about what would happen with my medication.

On cue, Strom produced a box. I knew it would have little sheets of acid inside it. When I opened it, I saw everything was as I expected.

What about my meds? I asked.

You need to stop them. If you can’t function on our terms, then you are going to be marked off. That would be a shame for someone as talented as you, Strom said.

I’m going to see things if I stop taking the Seroquel, I thought I should be upfront.

As long as you can keep that to yourself, we’ll be fine. Take a hit.

As I tore off the tab I thought of how things were going to change. I looked at the small piece of paper, and put it in my mouth. Nothing happened.

Then we walked out of the hospital.

It was a nice warm day and the ride to the airport was pleasant enough. Highway 17 turned into 880 and then we were in Oakland. Our flight was leaving in an hour. Strom wasn’t going on the plane. My old friend Sam joined me in the check in line. Flight 1313 to Des Moines would be boarding soon.

Hey DJ, Sam said.

I want the window seat, I said.

Fine, how is it going? Are you excited to be part of the team again? Sam was chatty.

I don’t know. You see much of Sean? I asked.

We started to board. The question about his brother made Sam get quiet. It was like he needed to ignore what I had said.

So, you like Topper to win? Sam asked.

Um, I don’t know. Who is he running against?

Who is he running against? Where have you been DJ, he’s up against Holly Clarkson, Sam forgot how drunk people live.

Ok, and that is? I asked.

Holly Clarkson, the real estate investor. Remember White Rivers? All the people connected with it ended up dead?

I vaguely remember, I conceded.

Dangerous woman. When the media tries to put out a story on her, she ties it up in litigation. No one really knows how deep the corruption runs in her, Sam explained, Topper is the law and order man.

I thought Topper was a reality TV star. Isn’t he famous for losing lots of money?

Sure, but he’s entertaining. Maybe people are tired of boring politics, they want flashy. Imagine the Tops giving a state of the union address. Everyone would watch, he gets ratings, Sam went on.

So why are we going to Des Moines? I asked.

That’s where the Tops is at, Sam said, I can’t wait to meet him.

I can, I said.

The Tops

The next day we headed to Topper’s temporary headquarters. The town was plastered with Topper billboards and advertisements of all kinds. People seemed excited that Topper was in town. They were wearing hats with his "send ‘em all home" slogan.

The taxi took us to our hotel. All of the Topper people were staying here. The place had a party atmosphere. It was wild and alive. The townspeople were fueled by fear. I know that feeling. Running from fear can be almost spiritual and intoxicating. It can seduce you into doing actions that a person who didn’t have that feeling wouldn’t consider.

The desk was full of people asking when Topper was going to come out. Sam got our rooms, and then we went to look for Jeff. He was our contact. People were running around and getting in each other’s way. Madhouse seemed like a fitting term for this.

Topper arrived in the atrium. The crowd went wild, and Topper posed for pictures. This felt more like a Hollywood premier than an election. It wasn’t boring.

Sam and I made our way through the crowd to find an elevator. Our room was on the third floor, one room with two beds. It wasn’t a bad room, but it wasn’t fancy either. Very generic and clean, it was the kind of place I had stayed at a thousand times as a kid on trips to Disneyland.

The TV wasn’t on and Sam couldn’t find the remote. I was hoping he wouldn’t find it, I liked the quiet. Eventually Sam did find the remote and turned on the TV. There was a Topper ad. He was dressed in a nice suit, but not too nice. There was a flag waving in the background and Topper promised to make this my America again.

The ad ended quickly. It was cheesy but effective. A few images flashed, made me want something, and didn’t give me anything to think about. Had politics fallen, or was it always this base? The Jews had picked Barabbas. I guess that was my answer.

There was a knock, and Sam let in Jeff. They were talking about the communications team. Jeff had badges and phones for us. The way he talked about us meeting Topper reminded me of getting a backstage pass at a rock concert. This was very weird. I really didn’t care about shaking hands and kissing asses.

After talking to Jeff, I went to dinner with Sam. The place in the hotel was packed, so we walked to another restaurant not too far away. Once we were out of the sphere of Topper influence things returned to a more normal pace, albeit with Topper hats everywhere.

Dinner was greasy. It sat like a rock in my bowels. Some guys walked in, and Sam went to bring them over.

Hey, this is John, Sam said to the guys.

Call me DJ, I told them.

I’m Pol, a tall blonde guy with an eastern block accent said.

Jeff nodded, You all know me, Jeff.

I’m Paavak, a nerdy East Indian guy introduced himself as.

These are the guys that the phone company sent for you, they are taking care of the daily shit, Sam said.

You cannot believe the shit, Paavak said, the equipment is not good. Not very good at all.

Calling the equipment shit, Jeff said, is insulting to shit.

Yeah. For a rich one this guy Topper so cheap, Pol added.

What do you guys need? I asked.

They looked at each other strangely.

I want things to be smooth, I explained, we can argue about the bill later.

Good idea, Pol agreed.

Did you guys eat yet? Sam asked.

Yes, Paavak said, we ate while we were setting up the phone bank. It took forever. 

Are you guys staying at the hotel? Sam asked.

Yes. We are sharing a room. Everything is so very cheap. I was thinking that Topper was all about luxury. But now I am thinking he is all about the penny pinching, Paavak said.

I was very attracted to Pol, but he was much younger than I. Plus, we were working together. I didn’t want to complicate things or do something that would make work awkward.

After coffee, we headed back to the hotel. It was still a madhouse when we got back. The crowd had thinned a little, but Topper was signing autographs amongst a pretty big throng. This didn’t look like a future president to me. It was more Hollywood than Washington.  It was easier to get to the elevator this time.

The assignment is going well, Sam said to me in the elevator.

I guess, I said.

When we got off and entered our room I was surprised by all the new computer equipment that had arrived while we were gone.

What’s all this? I said.

Oh, that’s all crap. In case someone tries to spy on us, or steal, or whatever. All we need is on the phone, Sam explained.

Really? I asked.

Yeah.

Morning came early as it usually did. There was a call. The Tops wanted to have breakfast with us. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry.

Before I could object, the man called Tops was sitting next to us. The waitress was so happy to see him. Several people came up and the Tops was kind to them. He handed us hats and said, You must be Sam, and you must be John? It’s really great to meet you guys, this is going to be a great partnership.

I couldn’t believe it, I liked him. Not a small amount either, it was nice to have him sitting with us. There was something genuine about him, very bold, and very likable. I took the hat and frowned. It was one of the "send ‘em all home" hats and I was not going to wear it.

As if he could read my mind, Tops said, Don’t take that the wrong way. I’m not anti-Mexican or anything. No not at all.

Then why send them all back? I asked.

So they can be happy and spread the American way. Look, I believe in manifest destiny. I don’t want to turn anyone away from the American life. I want to take the layer of Mexican states that touches our borders and make them part of the United States. Give people a chance to use our government in their own land. Let every Mexican citizen move to the U.S. Send ‘em all back so they can take back with them our way of life. Make the every part of the world a place everyone wants to stay in.

What about Russia? Sam asked.

I’m good friends with people over there. They want to offer stability to the middle east. I smell a deal there, Tops slapped my back, we can all work together. Make it easy for anyone to have a decent life. I want to build on what America was, not only make it great again, make it even better for more people.

Sounded like a campaign speech. The hat didn’t offend me anymore. Even though I understood that what he was saying really meant he was a warlord who would be doing a land grab while our enemy did one of their own, it sounded good. I wondered if he could make genocide sound palatable as well.

I don’t think that will get you many Latino votes, I said.

No, no it won’t. Yet I’ll be the one they look back on as the savior of Mexico. There is nothing Mexico can’t do with our constitution to back them up. A Mexico without a corrupt and inept government would be a world power. There is no doubt in my mind. But they need our backing. We need to be one, Tops said.

So you like NAFTA? Sam asked, I thought you were against it.

I am, Tops explained, NAFTA is like importing the worst of Mexico. I want to export the best of America. We need a new system for that. No one else has the balls to even propose what I’m going to do.

The more he talked, the more I liked him. Some of what he said was making sense.

Lincoln added West Virginia and Nevada during his time in office. I want to add Baja, Sonora and Chihuahua. All that extra land, all those people looking for opportunity, it’s time to give it to them, Tops said as breakfast was served.

Lots of oil there, Sam said.

That’s just gravy. Expansion is the meat, Tops said before he put a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

It was hard to know what to say. I few minutes ago, I would never had voted for this guy, now I was really warming up to him. All my life I had been against cultural imperialism. Tops was making it seem like it made sense, like we were giving the people what they wanted.

The rest of breakfast was very light. It was fun being with the Tops. I wanted to live in his America. The people around us were hopeful and excited. This was an energy of transformation, not just for change.

I almost wanted to wear the hat. The Tops saw me playing with it.

I’m telling ya, I’m not just sending them back. I’m sending them to a really nice piece of real estate with the tools they need to have a good life. In 20 years, we’ll all be trying to move to Baja. It’s just gorgeous. I’ll personally be investing heavily there. In fact, I already am, Tops winked.

You know,I said, my friends call me DJ.

Sam frowned.

As we left, I put on the hat. Sam was wearing his as well. The Tops was on a tight schedule, and he wanted to talk to us about things. So we were part of an entourage. A tall, stylish lady named Helen joined us in a limo that was taking us to a book signing. Then we were going to the opening of a new automobile plant.

Are you sure, Helen asked Tops, that you don’t want to meet with Abortions ‘R Us?

I don’t see why anyone would court those whack jobs, Tops looked angry, who would? What kind of people would do that? What do you say Sam?

Sam thought for a moment, I really don’t care.

Ha! Tops slapped Sam on the back, An honest answer, I love this guy.

We came to a local bookstore, and Tops rolled down the window. Love you guys. he yelled at the crowd that was lined up outside.

As we stopped, someone opened the door and Tops got out. The crowd screamed happily. Tops waved and was surrounded by security. Helen frowned as we got out and trailed after him.

Are we staying with him? I asked.

Hand out some hats, Helen said, try and give them to kids. The kids love them and it makes good footage if jerks take them off the kids heads. It always ends up with the kids crying. Kids love Tops.

They sure did. I thought everyone was going to be blonde, but there were many people of color here. Of course, the news was careful not to film anyone that didn’t look like they were of Viking descent. There definitely was some hate for Topper.

Pol, Paavak, and Jeff were running around. The news crew was careful not to put Paavak in any shots. It felt very KGB to me. Being part of a day in the life of Topper was opening my eyes to how much the media was modeling my image of this man in my own brain. He wasn’t radical and didn’t seem to care about white supremacy, but he did have some fresh ideas from some very old concepts. In these ideas were threats to the status quo. I was starting to feel good being connected to this.

Some people got out of a silver van. They were all women, and carrying signs. All of their shirts matched. As they came closer I could read the shirts. They were Abortions ‘R Us shirts and they said, "Better to help medical research than be unwanted."

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. They were ridiculous, but just as ridiculous, another group showed up in different matching shirts. The new shirts read, "what would the unborn child say about abortion if they could talk?"

The groups started to yell at each other. It seemed so stupid. This was a conversation I thought would be best had between a pregnant person, her doctor, and God. It was sickening watching these clowns battle it out over something so personal. I didn’t think a girl should have to go to some impersonal center to have this performed. Something like this deserves some dignity and privacy. Not morons in matching shirts yelling and waving signs in the air at morons in their own brand of matching shirts.

The factory opening was next. We got there early, and the guys started to set up the phones. Pol was recording this to add to Topper’s website. No one was there yet from the public. People who ran the factory posed for pictures with Topper. Helen kept frowning.

About a half an hour after we got there, everyone was ready. We waited for the Topper supporters to get there. Mr. Motomura, the man who would be running the plant was proudly wearing a send ‘em all back hat. Eventually people started to arrive, and soon the place was packed. A news crew came and tried to shoot from angles that would make the crowd seem smaller. Everywhere they aimed their cameras was a sea of hats, all the same. Topper