Chapter Twenty-Two: Aftermath of the Dinner Debate Down Under

Late Tuesday night, August 17, 2100

“You’re going to get clobbered in Australia,” Bruce said. “But boy, you sure might pick up everywhere else!”

“You think anyone else was watching?” Toby asked.

Bruce shook his head. “You’re getting old and slow-witted, Mr. Former Great Campaign Director. You think the news programs aren’t going to replay what happened tonight over and over and over? The whole world’s going to see this!”

“Most of those votes are weeks away,” Toby said. “How about New Guinea and New Zealand? They don’t eat meat.”

“Yeah, but they like to vote first. You’ll get a bit less clobbered there, but we’ve planted a seed for the rest of the world.”

“Since I’m from the U.S., and Feodora’s from Russia, you think we have a chance in those elections?”

“Nope, you haven’t got a chance,” Bruce said. “You’ll get clobbered, filleted, and skinned alive. But we can pretend. If you’d like, we can put you in a political bubble where we tell you you’re gonna win, and you never have to deal with reality. You can be a bubble president, like most of our past ones.”

Twenty-two had watched the dinner debate, and proclaimed it confusing and irrational. “Both major candidates believe one part of the world should get to vote first? And how they vote influences later voters, which makes no sense. If that is true, how can anyone think it is fair that the law gives some people more influence?”

Bruce had started to say something but was interrupted. “I know,” Twenty-two said. “I am looking for logic in your politics. I will try not to make that mistake again.”

The newscasts had proclaimed it the “Dinner Debate Down Under.” Clips from it ran non-stop, with Toby surprisingly getting equal treatment with Dubois and Ajala. Over and over they played the three of them and their words on meat-eating, on “First in the World,” on Universal Food, and on Twenty-two.

Instant polls gave the debate to Dubois, 36% to Toby’s 34%, and Ajala’s 30%. With voters tired of the long campaign between Dubois and Ajala, Toby was the fresh face.

More important than who won the debate was how it affected voters.

“I’m getting polling results on TC now,” Bruce said. He stood still for a moment, then grabbed a ping-pong ball from his pocket and threw it at Toby. “The chimpanzees have spoken!”

The numbers were encouraging. In Australia, it was now Dubois 61%, Ajala 17%, Platt 18%. He’d edged ahead of the unpopular Ajala! In New Guinea, it was Dubois 37%, Ajala 36%, Platt 20%. In New Zealand, it was Dubois 57%, Ajala 26%, Platt 12%. Worldwide it was Dubois 45%, Ajala 36%, Platt 13%.

Incoming call from Zubkov.

“Accept,” Toby said, stepping over to the Rocinante’s TC camera so Feodora could see him.

“Dahling!” said the image of Feodora. “You did wonderful!”

“It wasn’t planned,” Toby said. “It was supposed to be just a dinner.” He should have known from past experience that a political dinner was never just a dinner.

“I could smell wonderful barbecue kangaroo from Russia. I would have eat the dead animal. Ah, I wish I had been there.”

“I thought about eating it.”

“But you stick with convictions, and make political speech at same time,” she said. “That impress me. Now I know campaign real. You campaign in Oceania and North America, and small general join you in two weeks in Russia. After that, we travel together everywhere. Dahling, we can win!”

They discussed campaign strategy for a few minutes. Feodora was going to be on all the Russian talk shows, so they discussed the various talking points. Then she gave him a pep talk about surviving a Japanese ambush in the Russia-Japan war that somehow involved dogs and camouflage umbrellas, and then they disconnected.

Gene had already booked Toby for several talk shows, but after the dinner debate, all the shows were calling him. Toby spent the next week floating from one to another, criss-crossing Australia, New Guinea, and New Zealand, along with numerous rallies and fund-raising events. Over and over he was grilled by the press on his stance on meat and against Oceania’s “First in the World” status. He gave the same answers he’d given at the dinner, and whenever possible, changed the subject to his compromise plan on Universal Food. Twenty-two was the other main topic of conversation. Over and over Toby was shown replays of Dubois’s now famous “Get off our planet!” statement, to which he would shake his head and speak of the value of joining the galactic community. He’d practiced the head shake and rebuttal with Bruce in their hotel room.

Whenever he was asked about the faded purple scarf, he answered, “I look to the future, but the scarf is my link to the past. Where I go, it goes.” When pressed, he’d smile and ask what they’d like to discuss, his scarf or Universal Food?

The local newscasters almost universally praised Toby’s compromises, even though they condemned his views on meat eating and “First in the World” status. They asked him why he’d chosen this strategy, knowing how it would come off in Oceania. Had he known it would be replayed worldwide?

“It wasn’t a strategy,” Toby explained over and over. “I was just tired of all the nonsense.” It was one of those rare times where truth and strategy matched. Lara, if she’d been speaking to him, might have even praised the bite-worthiness of his explanation.

Dubois and Ajala also blanketed the region. They’d spent years preparing for this, and there seemed a major rally every night at a major city. The Oceania TC newscasts became a non-stop succession of Dubois, Ajala, Toby, and their many surrogates. Toby almost matched them news show for news show, but was badly outnumbered in the surrogates department. The good news for him was that Dubois and Ajala aimed their fire mostly on each other, sometimes even praising Toby—exactly how Toby would have advised them in dealing with a non-threatening, third-party challenge. Dubois was looking for a landslide win, while Ajala just hoped to keep it somewhat close, because he knew he couldn’t win in Oceania.

Long before coming to Australia, Toby and Bruce had put the details of their position on their “Platt for President” hubsite, where anyone could access them with their TC. Now their hubsite was overrun with people viewing their proposals, which were mostly detailed versions of what Toby had said at the dinner. They spent time each day discussing and updating some of the details of what was now the Moderate Party Platform.

Toby was especially proud of his Universal Food Plan, which he, Bruce, and others had spent many hours debating. The left wing of the Liberal Party had been fighting for this for decades, but could never get the votes for their more extreme measures. He and Bruce had spent almost as much time debating the acronym: “Short-Term Universal Free Food” (STUFF), “Free Food Foundation” (Triple F), or “Provisional Universal Food Foundation” (PUFF). Toby wanted the more serious Triple F, but Bruce talked him into PUFF.

Perhaps the world would someday adopt a true Universal Food Plan. However, the world was not economically or politically ready, so it was better to work toward it one step at a time, starting with a compromise plan.

Getting the word out was key to winning an election. Dubois seemed best at this. Stop the Invasion! and Get Off Our Planet! buttons and signs—with the ever-present Conservative Coke logo—sprouted up all over Australia. Campaign by slogan, thought Toby, just as I taught Lara. A simple, short message, repeated over and over, will usually win out over a more complex, thoughtful one. When it came to political thinking, there were more simple people than complex ones, though he’d never admit that to Bruce.

The Ajala campaign countered with their own buttons and slogans centered over a Hancola logo. The best were The Galaxy is Watching and Universal Food Now!

The Platt campaign had their own slogans. Toby’s favorite was The Rat, the Doormat, or Platt!, which labeled Dubois and Ajala in exactly the terms that, deep down, many people thought of them. Another was the one coined by Bruce, Extremism in the pursuit of moderation is no vice, as well as the flipped Moderation in the pursuit of extremism is no vice, which brought in some conservatives and liberals who thought their candidate too extreme in their methodology. All buttons and signs included the Jancola logo.

They also bought as much ad time as possible, running two different ads. Bruce had worked with an ad agency in putting them together.

The first was entitled “Moderation.” The ad opened with a short clip of Dubois’s disastrous first meeting with Twenty-two, ending with gunfire. A voiceover with a man’s Australian accent said, “He’d shoot the aliens.” Then came a clip of Ajala and Twenty-two walking into Liberal Headquarters, arm in arm. “He’d open the henhouse and let a Trojan wolf in.” Next was a clip of starving Australian children. “Dubois lets children starve.” Then came a shot of the World Bank with a Closed—out of money sign in front. “Ajala would give it away for free and bankrupt us all.” The ad then showed a clip of Toby at the dinner debate, standing and talking as others listened attentively, and saying, “Isn’t there room for moderation from our government?” The ad finished with Toby standing in front of The Twisted Gun at the United Nations Building, saying, “I’m Toby Platt and I approve this message, and hope you will too, because we can no longer afford to have extremists run our government.”

The second ad was entitled “PUFF.” It opened with a crying child sitting on the ground in front of an empty bowl. The camera backed up to show a dirty, grungy room of crying children, with an Australian flag on the wall. The ad did a rapid series of clips of children and old men and women, all seemingly starving, with clues in each picture to show the various parts of the world they were taken from—flags, famous buildings in the background, pictures on walls, and so on. Then came a voiceover with a woman’s Australian accent, “Our children and elderly are starving as the galactic civilization watches. We can solve this problem, but it will take new leaders with fresh ideas. Toby Platt has an affordable plan to solve world hunger. Give our children and elderly a chance.” Again Toby came on, holding a child while standing in a room similar to the Red Room, with the world flag in the background. “I’m Toby Platt, and I approve this message because a billion people went to bed hungry last night. I want everyone to go to bed without dinner on election night, and see what it feels like. On election day, eat a good breakfast, be thankful, and remember those hunger pangs when you vote to solve this problem.”

The gimmick seemed to work, as “Election Night Hunger Strike” fever swept Oceania and other parts of the world, with news anchors and politicians across the continent saying they’d go hungry that night. Toby, Bruce, and a grumbling Gene skipped dinner as well. So did Twenty-two, though she pointed out that she only ate once a day anyway, usually in the middle of the day, either from food stored in a pouch on her vest or regular human food—with supplements—so it was no hardship for her.

All the “starving” children and other people in the ads were actors, and much of the ads were put together via computer. Toby never stood in front of The Twisted Gun or in a Red Room replica.

Dubois and Ajala had their own ads, but aimed their fire on each other. Dubois slammed Ajala over and over for financial ineptness and being out of touch, and painted Nigeria as a hellhole of a nation under Ajala’s leadership. Ajala’s ads turned Dubois into an uncaring tyrant, and played the clip of the shooting of the alien over and over to the rousing musical accompaniment of Ride of the Valkyries. They outspent the Platt campaign on political ads by about 4-1—though, as Bruce kept reminding them, it was not always how many ads you ran, but how you used them. But Toby knew that in elections, a mind-numbing barrage of ads usually overwhelmed quality.

Gene and Bruce had arranged speeches and media appearances all over Australia, New Zealand and New Guinea. Toby had worried that few would show, despite Bruce’s smirking assurances that excitement was building for the campaign. By the end of the week, he’d almost lost his voice as he endlessly recited the same basic messages of the campaign.

After a busy week of campaigning by the three campaigns, the citizens of Oceania voted via TC. The world watched and waited.