Dowd was not a fool. Not really. Part of his “Electability” was that he had to portray a certain simple mindedness that would allow him to connect with the common person because they were his target audience. The worldwide social media revolution had given voice and access to all, regardless of level of education or political stake. The vox populi was starting to talk back to its masters, nipping at the scraps before the meal was finished. Of course, the irony lay in the fact that the public education system did a poor job of explaining the abstract reality that modern politics operate in. Almost all critical thinking being left for the “paid” schools,
His rise was not what you would call meteoric or even impressive. He just kind of hung on while others around him dropped off. He had been pedaling the same drivel they were, of course. Generic nonsense made to put the public to sleep and keep them that way. Fortunately, the business model of this industry contained its own self- perpetuating initiative. That was the fact that the human spirit fought delirium as hard as it possibly could., even if it didn’t realize it.
Some kind of evolutionary advantage that was both a strength and weakness. This trait keeps the mind alert and in need of substance but does not define parameters of taste or meaning. That was left entirely to each consumer, therefore giving the peddler full advantage. So when it came time for Atticus Dowd to leave the music business behind and enter a career in politics, it was a rather utilitarian switch. All he had to do now was completely change his position on his stance in the music business and claim that they were evil “brain washers of the youth.” When asked how he could spend so much time in a deplorable business he could utilize that very fact against his detractors. For he had “been there” and survived the belly of the beast like some kind of first world Jonah. His followers certainly ate up that metaphor with ravenous fervor, as if they were the biblical Wale personified.
And thus, in the same spirit as a concept he rallied publicly against, eventually his stamina won out and he rose to the top as others folded. Such text book examples of social Darwinism have the stink of cliché all over them, and Dowd knew it. Such blatant hypocrisies trade for gold in this post postmodern world. He also knew that attention spans were fickle and trite. Those who could trace this path would find it ironic and momentarily upsetting before letting it go completely.
This was not on A.K. Dowd’s agenda today however. Today he had to meet with some community organizers regarding some power plant emissions. He had tried his damned best to get out of the event, but Rosen had told him he needed to go. Too many other candidates had failed to meet with these folks, and this would get him an “in” or something. Whatever needed to happen to get him close to the spot.
Let’s get this over with.
The tall grass waved lazily in the breeze as the sun began its golden descent behind the hill. The sky was a haze of blue otherwise, no clouds or blights. Just that almost metallic blue grey of summer afternoon. Dowd’s mouth slammed shut and his eyes opened. He turned reflexively and squinted up at the sun.
How had he gotten here?
Where was he?
Then he remembered.
The sound. The damned awful sound.
He heard it now and he realized that it had been coming from him, from somewhere INSIDE him.
He tried to move his hand up to stop the sun and he found he could not.
His hand would not cooperate as he was lying down with this arms pinned back apparently.
The sun wasn’t even in attendance it seemed, as the bulb was moved out of Dowd;s face.
As his eyes adjusted, he could not tell exactly where he was but he knew that it was bad.
This place felt like it smelled, like things ended badly here.
He gasped again.
“Please, please. What do you want, “ asked Dowd.
No one said anything.
The light remained enough that Dowd could make out the shadows of figures but that was all. He knew he was not alone.
Then a click and a whir of tape.
Good god was that a cassette?
A voice spoke out of the gloom.
“We want our future back,” it said.
The whirring of a drill pierced the cavern.
Dowd screamed and screamed and
This time he was on his plane.
“Rosen?,” he asked weakly.
The intern poked his head out from the curtain.
“Yes Sir?,” Rosen said.
“Nothing,” Dowd said.
he close his eyes again.
“Nothing at all.”