Several people in the gallery cheered and began to clap. A smaller number booed Francis.
“I am warning you. You will be held in contempt of Congress!”
Francis turned and looked theatrically to Dan. “Is that even a real thing?” And then back to the panel. “Do I at least get a public hearing this time, or do you just throw me in a secret prison because I’ve got magic? How does that work?”
“Please calm down, Mr. Stuyvesant,” cautioned another of the congressmen.
“You calm down!” Francis shouted. Dan reached over under the table with his foot and tried to kick Francis in the shin. It didn’t do any good. “Any bum off the street can tell you what the OCI did was wrong, but then Roosevelt comes along and signs a law that says we should do it again, only bigger and more official, and we’re supposed to respect that? I say hell no!”
The cheering section had gotten a little out of hand, so there was quite a bit of gavel pounding and shouts for order, until the Capitol policemen forcibly removed some of the more vocal Active supporters. Because of the nature of the crowd, and the fact that Dan Garrett, a known Mouth, was also testifying today, there was a single Dymaxion nullifier spinning on the congressmen’s long table. The Capitol building was a magic-free zone today. Even though he now owned the only company capable of manufacturing them, Francis hated the anti-magic device on principle. But if he’d protested the use of one during this hearing, the press wouldn’t have believed a word he or Dan—especially Dan—had to say.
Dan leaned over during the chaos and whispered to Francis, “This isn’t helping our case. Seriously, leave the diplomacy to me and just state the facts.”
“We’ve already lost with these bozos,” he whispered back. “Let the press get some good quotes.”
Despite being born into a political dynasty, Francis had always hated politics and despised politicians. After all, his good-for-nothing father had been a very successful politician, which told young Francis pretty much everything he had needed to know about the lot of them. However, since being dragged into the spotlight, despite an instinctive hatred of the political game, it had turned out that he was actually pretty good at it. It must be in the blood. Being one of the richest men in the world surely helped.
He’d leave the diplomacy to cooler heads like Dan, but Francis had discovered a gift for demagoguery. The OCI had screwed with the wrong man, and as a result, Francis had declared war. Not a literal war, but if Roosevelt got his wish, then they’d have that too eventually.
The audience had been quieted down, and a congressman from South Dakota went on a tirade about the destruction wrought against Washington, thereby proving that Actives were far too much of a menace to society to remain uncontrolled, and blah blah blah. Francis wasn’t really paying attention. He’d heard it all before.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt had already given the executive order pertaining to the official monitoring of everyone with magic, not long after taking office. The climate in Washington after the great demon rampage had made it easy. The Active Registration Act was just icing on the cake. Right now they were only going to round up the Actives they considered to be the most dangerous, but anybody with half a brain knew that was the tip of the iceberg. America was going to follow in the steps of the Imperium and the Soviets, treating magical people like just another resource to be cultivated and controlled, and the Grimnoir would be damned if they’d get away with it.
The really hard part about being a secret society was who you tended to be secret, which meant that the few of them which had been exposed as members got the unenviable duty of becoming their public face. Dan was their most eloquent speaker, but he hated this sort of thing. Luckily, Francis had discovered that he sort of enjoyed it.
“Save us the platitudes,” Francis cut the congressman off midsentence. “Sure, Roosevelt is just trying to protect us Magicals from ourselves like we’re children, which is mighty nice of him, since the only reason he’s even alive is because I used telekinesis to chop an assassin’s head off with a serving tray while my friend used his Fade magic to carry the president to safety… By the way, do you know how the government paid my friend back for that?”
“Your peanut gallery has been removed, so you don’t need to entertain the mob.” The congressman leaned toward his microphone. “We have all read the court transcripts, Mr. Stuyvesant. There’s no need to dwell on—”
“They paid him back by beating him mercilessly and torturing him in a cell on Mason Island.” He didn’t need to add that Mason Island had been sucked into a black hole. Everybody knew that. Luckily, hardly anybody knew that the giant magical vortex had been Francis’ doing. He didn’t particularly want that bit on the Congressional record.
“That was an anomaly. Bradford Carr broke the law—”
“Oh, so now you make that sort of thing legal and it is all supposed to be okay? You are simply validating every horrible thing Carr did. Roosevelt’s new act is the first step toward putting a hundred thousand Americans into camps. That’s despicable.”
“No one wants to hear your tired conspiracy theories, Mr. Stuyvesant. The government would never do such a thing. Enough of your slander.”
“The government already has—”
“Gentlemen,” Dan chimed in. Even when he wasn’t using his magic, he always managed to keep it smooth. “You must understand the reaction of the Active community. The destruction in Washington was caused by an out-of-control agency of the federal government, yet it would seem that we the people are being held accountable for it. The fulfillment of Roosevelt’s proposals will deprive many law-abiding Americans of their rights and property. This is an extreme and unnecessary act.”
There was one man on the panel who hadn’t spoken yet, the new Coordinator of Information. He was a composed, middle-aged fellow with a stern look about him that suggested he was not a man to be trifled with. He didn’t bother with his microphone. “If I may?”
“The Chair recognizes William Donovan, newly confirmed head of the Office of the Coordinator of Information.”
Dan and Francis exchanged a quick look. This man was an unknown quantity. He had been a decorated hero in the Great War, and had been involved in New York politics for years, having even run and lost a bid at the governorship, but his opinions, if any, on Actives had never been made public. The word was that he was an old college chum of Roosevelt’s, brought in to clean up the “corrupt” OCI.
“Mr. Stuyvesant, you mentioned your friend, who was unfortunately and illegally mistreated by my predecessor. I believe his name was Heinrich Koenig, a German immigrant… Is that correct?”
“That is correct, sir,” Dan answered quickly.
“He’s the one in that picture that was in all the papers. You know, the one where he’s fighting your gigantic out-of-control government demon,” Francis added smugly.
“Yes. The infamous photograph of the Fade with the pickax. It is a very moving image, especially since it happened right down the street from here. Yet, I have to wonder, as Mr. Garrett and Mr. Stuyvesant have protested so vehemently about Actives not being any more dangerous to the fabric of American society than any other particular group, and that there are no Actives plotting any sort of insurrection against the United States, where it is your friend Mr. Koenig has gone…”