"Okay, you've got some... very far out ideas. And this book..."
"It is the world's first comprehensive nuclear and conventional disarmament plan, which is also a plan to save trillions of dollars.
"This question, President Obama... I like the sound of that and wish I had written the script... this question is designed to use media, what I call the electronic word, after the spoken, written, and printed words, and the fourth great development of mankind, to its full potential. The electronic word is the world-wide web and everything electronic that came before it. It's time to use the electronic word creatively, to destroy the grand hypocrisies of our time with Socratic dialogue. For the moment, I am Socrates. Socrates II. I am because I have twenty-eight years of practice, but I assure you I don't have the answers. None of us do; the answers we can only get together-as a species. The working manuals, treaties, agreements, protocols and other documents that will deliver in six years: 1) about two dozen nukes, 2) a saving of about $3 trillion, most in the U.S. since we are spending more than all other defense budgets combined, 3) several hundred thousand Blue Helmets, fully funded and adeptly used, suppressing violence everywhere, and 4) real security and stability for all peoples on the planet Earth-all of that will fill thirty boxcars. Right?
"I suppose so," he answered with a nod. "You've given me so much to think about, and I can't... counter with ideas... or answers right now."
"I understand and assure you I will never reveal this conversation unless you approve. I am your servant if you call. I like the fact that earlier, in your campaign, you mentioned that we have the answers, and that's when I decided to get to you somehow. Just remember that I've worked hard to develop my ideas on world problems to save this." I reached down and grabbed the right cheek of my ass. Both men laughed. "And this is my plan," I added, pointing to my book on the table, "to save the ass of each of you. So please grab yours and agree that you want to save yours too, don't you?" I looked expectantly at both of them.
Obama barked a laugh when he realized I was serious, and with a big grin, he put his wine glass down and grabbed his left buttock. Robertson followed him, feeling and looking foolish as they both muttered they did.
"We all want to save our collective asses and those of our loved ones, right?" I said before I shook hands with them. "Congratulations.
"I have other ideas," I continued, "but this is enough for now. Except one point." I paused, looking down as I forked some halibut and the last of my greens. I took my time, trying to figure out how to put it and how firm to be. I found him studying me expectantly with his Bordeaux glass beneath his chin, sniffing it as he awaited my final point. Knowing he was a very intelligent man and probably wavering, I decided to really set the hook.
"So what's the number one problem of the world, of the U.S., of Oscar and Ed and every creature everywhere, Mr. President-Elect?
"I'm not sure I'm ready to concede that it's nuclear arms. There are some things you almost certainly don't know anything about." He was forking the last of his carrots and he said it matter-of-factly, quickly projecting that he was a confident as I was. I grinned.
"Could be. But I should add I know about your two emergencies." He was working on his duck as he chewed, and my words arrested his action. "Your first is: Bush treason on 9/11, which you and everyone else inside the beltway just ignored, except that you MoCs gave him dictatorial power." My briefcase was on the floor where the fourth chair at our table would have been, and I reached down and pulled up a color 8x10 of Bush sitting on 9/11. It was visible only to him for a second before I slipped it back. "Two, the government runs out of money, credit, Monopoly money, electronic funds, you name it--in February." Both dropped utensils clanked loudly on his plate as Obama leaned on his arms with a fierce look. "At least, that's what's listed second on the leaked agenda of your closed session of Congress on 3/13/08. You sure were spot-on with the economic collapse: September, 2008." We were eyeball-to-eyeball; he blinked and leaned back.
He was very exasperated. The man was under enormous strain at all times because he was such a historical figure, and he would be taking over history's biggest mess in just two months. I was pushing his buttons in ways that he never expected. I thought for a moment he was going to storm out, but to his credit, he didn't. His frown was very poker-faced, with eyes that studied my face like lasers.
"I know a good bit more than you about... our vulnerabilities," I said gently. "Because you politicians don't want to recognize them. Naturally, because the news is always bad. You know about EMP." It was a statement, but I raised my eyebrows. His frown intensified, but after a long moment, his head nodded faintly as he sipped his Bordeaux. He returned to his duck and veggies and ignored me as the new President slipped into auto pilot. I could feel the pace of his chewing increase as his thoughts raced over what had been said. I caught up on my meal, finishing my asparagus and greens before I broke the silence.
"To be continued?" I sipped my Mateus.
"For certain," he responded quickly. "You have given me much to consider. Can you come to Chicago if requested?"
"Of course," I replied quickly. "I'm at your service if you are serious about these ideas. And speaking thereof, back to number one. We can't really solve any of the top problems if we don't solve the nuclear-tipped arms race. Why? Solve number one and we go to the bank over the next six years to the tune of 2-3 trillion bucks. Which we use to build the sustainable civilization. Nothing would please the world more. They cheered you worldwide for offering a change from American fascism; they will really cheer you if you call for the Blue Helmets of the UN as the cops of the planet. No more Matt Dillon as the world's sheriff." I signaled for the waiters to box up our uneaten food and to bring me the check.
"You sure know how to make it all sound so simple and easy," he said sarcastically, but with a twinkle in his eye.
"KISS is never out of style," I shot back.
"Thank you for picking such a good restaurant. It was an absolutely marvelous lunch. How's the name pronounced?" I told him. "Now, as for the bill, let me assure you the government is getting its money's worth with this visit; it goes on my transition charge card." He handed it to Oscar.
With that matter-of-fact statement, we stood up and shook hands, and I thanked him profusely before he and Robertson left by the back door. I picked up the nearly-full Bordeaux; it was a 2006 Lafite Rothschild. I took a swig. It still tasted better than any red wine I've ever had. I corked it, slipped it into my briefcase along with my bagged halibut, and after dropping three Ulysses S. Grants on the sommelier and two waiters, I went out the front door, saying to myself, "To be continued indeed.
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