Career politicians never liked to be called on their bullshit. “How dare you…”
“Oh, I dare all right.” Francis was getting rather upset. “Carr had an extermination list, and now you want me to trust the same government? Even if I trusted your administration, which I don’t, what about the next one, or the one after that? Hogwash.”
“Do not take that tone with me.” Roosevelt was certainly not used to being spoken to like this, maybe in an editorial, but never to his face.
Francis hadn’t realized he’d raised his voice. “Forgive me. Extermination orders get my blood up.”
“We must modernize.”
“What you call modernity, I call slavery.”
“A loaded but misleading term.” Roosevelt sighed and shook his head sadly. “We simply have a difference of philosophy. Whether you like it or not, there will be a compromise reached. The more unreasonable your side is, the more likely you will not like that compromise.”
“I had this same conversation with Bradford Carr, in his dungeons, while I was chained to a wall… He thought that the government owned people. I say the people own the government. There is no compromise between those two positions.”
Obviously angry, the president put both of his hands down flatly on his great desk. “Oh, there will be a compromise. I will get my reforms and you will not stand in my way.”
“Is that a threat?”
And now the knives came out. “I’m the President of the United States. You’re the petulant spoiled brat of a blimp merchant.”
“I’m a very successful blimp merchant,” Francis corrected.
“Though I’m not sure how long you would be able to retain that position if the full weight and attention of the federal government was to be turned against UBF. Many have been clamoring to me about how UBF is a monopoly, and how breaking it up would do wonders for the economy. If that were to happen, you might find yourself in a new line of work rather quickly. That would be unfortunate.”
Not only was that a threat, that was one hell of a threat.
“I called you here so I could appeal to your senses, Francis. I need something from you. You can either cooperate, or you can be obstinate.”
“And what would that be, exactly?”
Roosevelt put away the knives and went back to being the kindly radio grandpa who just wanted everybody to be prosperous and happy. “Simple. You own Dymaxion.”
So that was what this meeting was really about. Francis bit his lip. Buckminster Fuller’s Dymaxion Nullifiers were the only thing in existence which could completely block an Active’s access to the Power and there were only a few remaining in existence. “You want more magical nullifiers.”
“I’ve been informed that you refuse to sell them.”
“If I had a device that made people with good eyesight go blind, or made folks with excellent hearing go deaf, I don’t think I’d sell those either. I’m practically one of your consumer safety activists.”
“I’ve been told these devices are vital to national security. The OCI still has a couple, and it is only a matter of time before some Cog is able to reverse engineer them. So any bullheaded foolishness will ultimately prove pointless. In the meantime I would be greatly appreciative if you would begin selling those to the government again. I understand these are valuable, time-consuming works, each one practically a work of art, so I can see to it that you are extremely well compensated for your labor. Surely, if UBF is supporting the government in this endeavor, then there would be no point to my new regulators paying your company any particular mind.”
Because if threats don’t work, you can always try bribery. Francis smiled. “Because without Dymaxions you can’t round up and enslave a bunch of ticked-off Actives?”
Roosevelt’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t liked that one bit. “Out of a long-time respect for your family, I tried to be reasonable, but you are being a very unreasonable man. You will turn your remaining stock of Dymaxions over to the government, and you will show us how to make more, or there will be severe repercussions.”
Francis had once boarded the Imperium flagship to slug it out with a platoon of Iron Guards and the world’s greatest wizard. Franklin Roosevelt had seriously underestimated his ability to not give a shit. “You said I remind you of my father, but there’s one big difference between him and me. He had flexible principles. I don’t. Do you want to go to war with me, Mr. President? Because if you think you can just seize my property without due process, then that’s where we’re headed.”
“Very well, Mr. Stuyvesant. If you want to do this the hard way, then that’s how we will proceed. History does not look kindly upon those who stand in the way of progress.”
Dan Garrett was so not going to be happy. “Well, this meeting is over.” Francis stood up. “Good day, Mr. President.”
Roosevelt pushed a button on his desk. The doors opened and a functionary came in to escort Francis out. The president’s icy glare left no doubt that Francis had made himself a formidable new enemy. “I have one last question before you go.”
He was still red-faced and angry, but he was trying to maintain some respect for the office. “I’m happy to help,” Francis lied.
“Only one man has been able to successfully nullify magic, and he works for you. Where is this Buckminster Fuller?”
Oh, there was no way in hell I’m letting these vultures sink their claws into my most valuable Cog… “You know how those Cogs can be, what with their heads in the clouds. If I see him, I’ll tell him you inquired about his health. Last I’d heard he was taking a vacation.”
Chapter 3
It is an odd affliction, this Cog magic. In most ways I am a man of average aptitude. Pertaining to most subjects I can reason as any educated man should, but when my intellect turns toward the topic of airships my mind simply ignites as if on fire. Thoughts pour in unbidden. Reason reaches new heights. The abstract becomes clear. Shortcomings are corrected. Weaknesses are exposed and turned into strengths. Years of scientific reasoning are completed in a matter of fevered days, and when the fire dies down I discover that I have once again revolutionized the whole world. I must wonder if I had not been born with this form of magic, would man be confined to forever using inferior forms of transportation such as aeroplanes?
UBF Traveler
Buckminster Fuller was obviously not a happy Cog. “Mr. Sullivan! Mr. Sullivan! A moment of your time?”
Sadly, Sullivan had not been able to escape through the hatch in time to avoid their resident magical supergenius. It was like the Power picked the smartest human beings around to be Cogs. All Cogs were bright, even before the magic came over them, but for some folks the Cog magic arrived later in life, and they were an extra special sort of fun. “Yeah, Fuller?”
“I’ll have you know these working conditions are completely unsafe. I am dealing with potentially dangerous magic combined with lethal chemical mixtures in a laboratory the size of a closet, all of fifteen feet away from a bag filled with explosive hydrogen! My quarters are totally unsuitable for regenerative occupancy! My roommate is a pirate! A pirate! But that is not the worst. Oh no. The worst is that this is no scientific expedition. You have turned this vessel into a veritable warship! A device designed in the pursuit of killingry!”