Chapter X:
Beginning to Change Civilization

I DID MAKE good upon my vow to Silver Springs owner Ira Desmorel to purchase the London Knights baseball franchise and all of its affiliated lesser teams and concerns, striking a deal with the BBC for—ah, curious reader, the exact amount is of no concern; suffice it to say ’twas a mountain of treasure. President Malory insisted I use a team of her personal practitioners of the law to ensure that the transaction was completed without incident. In due course, I became the owner of a World Baseball Federation club.

The only problem was that, as much as I wanted to participate in club decisions throughout the course of the next four years, I was kept far too occupied in my mission to help Malory become—if not Queen of America, then at the very least President for Life. I owed her that boon; she had loaned me far more than just her lawyers so that I could buy the Knights.

Altering a nation’s government can be accomplished in one of two ways. The first and most popular, regardless of the era, is bloody: invade and conquer. Round up and execute the opposition’s leaders, move your military battalions and navies into strategic positions throughout the land and along the sea coasts, and impose martial law until the populace falls into line behind your banner. In my era, it was a lot simpler to achieve since the populace was well-trained to accept whichever noble sat in power over them at any given moment; quite often the martial-law phase of the operation could be omitted without inflicting any harm to the cause. The bloody way also has the virtue of being the most efficient in terms of time expended, and the chances are better than good that the ruler you have replaced will have been so evil that no one will miss him when he is gone except perhaps his mother,—and sometimes not even she will.

When I advocated this strategy to President Malory, she paled a little and became squirmish; thus it came as no surprise when she rejected it. However, I forgave her this character defect—no ruler rules long who is not willing to roll a few heads now and then, which doubtless accounts for the paltry five-year average governing span of American Presidents and which doubtless contributes to the everlasting mire that clogs Washington’s political gears such that nothing of value ever is accomplished except for the annual vote to raise their own salaries. I presented her with the second option, to which she gave her assent: to whit, the plan to raise President Malory’s popularity by influencing Congress to legislate certain much-needed and long-overdue social and political reforms. ’Twas a plan designed to proceed in easy stages, tedious as such plans are wont to be, and with a disappointing lack of bloodletting, unless one cares to count the number of political suicides engendered as a result.

First on the list of reforms—for having the largest potential impact on Malory’s approval rating—was the restructuring of the tax code in favor of the middle and lower classes, putting the bulk of the burden back onto the wealthiest people, as in my own sixth-century experience, where it had lain up until the middle years of the twentieth century, and where the Patriotic Millionaires for Fiscal Strength movement had gamely tried but ultimately failed to guide it in the first years of the twenty-first century. As with the response to the Patriotic Millionaires’ efforts, the overwhelming majority of the wealthy class screamed in bloody protest to my tax code overhauls; this came as no surprise to me, for the wealthier you are, the more tightly you want to clutch your treasure to your bosom, even though you possess so much that you cannot possibly hope to spend it all within a single lifetime. The difference between failure and success this time lay in my judicious application of magic. A few of the wealthiest people managed to flee America before my calming spell could ease them into a state of acceptance. That was fine by me; they were the troublemakers. Enough was gleaned from the rest of the citizens to go a long way toward erasing the government deficit and getting the country back onto more solid financial footing. Furthermore, I made Malory vow not to spend, as President, more than her country’s annual income; overspending, while conveying undeniable short-term benefits, is not sustainable over the long term. ’Tis acceptable—and even expected—to overspend on a special feast or tournament now and then as a display of largesse for the masses, but to do so as a normal course of conducting the business of government is nothing short of stupid. Even daft old King Pellinore had never condoned such a practice. Of course, his kingdom was so small that he had trouble finding it again after the zest for knight-errantry had borne him away for years at a time. Still, he had ruled within the limits of his annual income, for the most part, as did we all. There was no reason why Malory, at the helm of America, could not do so as well.

The tax reform took most of Malory’s second term to get enacted. The work entailed, for me, the casting of a lot of enchantments,—in the main, influencing the influential to side with our viewpoint without having to concede some ridiculous boon in return. It did not take many days of dealing with these officious, self-serving, power-seeking, shake-with-one-hand-and-stab-you-with-the-other Congressional types to add the imposition of term limits to the list of reforms I planned to establish. I would have loved to have sacked and racked the lot of them, and started over with a fresh new set (preferably young and handsome and male, too), but Malory would not approve that aspect of my plan either. More’s the pity; it meant having to tread delicately through these esteemed halls of power. Fortunately for Malory, delicate treading is my specialty.

 

“I made Malory vow not to spend, as President, more than her country’s annual income.”

 

 

It also meant that Malory would need to stay in office beyond her second term, so the lifting of that ban became my focus in 2083 and into 2084. Once Malory revealed her re-election platform, which included tort reform, balancing the budget and keeping it balanced, and the overhaul of public schools to reintroduce the ancient and effective practice of apprenticing, reserving all education past the eighth grade for the true scholars, her election to a third term of office became assured.

Thus four years fairly flew by. I attended London games and business meetings when I could, which was not often, alas. When I had bought the team, I left the board of trustees in place to carry on in my stead. That, in retrospect, was a mistake; I should have assumed direct governance forthwith. The trustees did nothing of significance to advance the Knights’ fortunes—or mine—and the team did not advance to the World Tournament during any of those years. Desmorel’s team was not in the championship hunt in 2084 either; the Springs suffered injuries to several key players and did not make it to the Americas Banner playoff tournament. Even a man of profit must bow to fate on occasion.

As I watched the 2084 Tournament—the Longmont Longstockings, breaking a twenty-two-year drought, versus the Moscow Tsars in their first world-championship appearance—I vowed to take personal charge of the London Knights and turn them into a team of which I could be proud.

President Malory was not enamored of my decision to move to London, but since I would be but a bullet train’s ride from Washington (as a means of conveyance, I prefer the swimming worm to its flying cousin), she granted her consent. I did not require her consent, of course; but it was far more pleasant to depart with her blessing than without it.

Ah, and which team did I cheer for in 2084? My dearest reader, you should know me well enough by now to make an excellent guess. The tournament, for me, had an extra happy outcome in that I won a huge sum of money from Ambrose—which I did not influence, magically or otherwise, as Our Lord God is my witness!—and there were vodka baths aplenty for the victors after the final out of the final game.

I did not foresee that besting Ambrose in the monetary realm would reap dire consequences for both of us, ere we were done with one another. And yet, were I to choose to live those days over again, I would not change a thing.