had spent years clawing and scrambling his way to the top of the political pile, and he now looked happily down from the pinnacle of his career, enjoying the power of his position for a few years before he retired to a well-earned rest on the private island he was building in the Virgin Islands. At least, he was enjoying the power that the Dominion AIs allowed him to have, which mainly consisted of supporting their policies and acting as their human figurehead for controlling the unwashed masses.
Buck glanced at the shadowy figure of Daedalus, the nanoborg representative of Alioth, standing patiently in his black robes out of camera view. His creepy white eyes never left Buck’s face. Buck knew from experience that if he said the wrong thing in front of the cameras, Daedalus would trigger the shock field to get him back in line. With that kind of motivation, it hadn’t taken long for Buck to learn what to say and when to say it. Daedalus wrote Buck’s speeches, as he had for the last seven occupants of the White House’s Oval Office, and they rehearsed before every public appearance while Daedalus made certain that the correct words were emphasized and the right facial expressions were used. From what Buck knew of presidential history, the process wasn’t all that different from the way presidents had been handled ever since speeches were first televised, but he doubted that JFK or Reagan or Rodriguez had ever received high-voltage shocks when they emphasized the wrong words from their speeches. In any case, that was the price of being the leader of the “free” world these days. And the job certainly wasn’t as stressful as it might have been before the Dominion. Alioth made all the real decisions, told Buck which government agency to dismantle each week, which people to hire and fire, which news to overlook, and which issues to promote. After four years, maybe eight, he’d be wealthy beyond his dreams with lifetime support from the appreciative entities of the Dominion. Life could be worse for a backwater rube who had never graduated from high school.
Daedalus held up a finger, letting him know he had one minute left in which to finish notifying the public of his intention to shut down the Department of Defense along with the last of the domestic military bases, which had only been operating with skeleton crews for the last twenty years. Federal police forces occupied many former military installations across the country, ever ready to reinforce the Dominion’s less popular directives in the major cities, but they hadn’t been used much in the last few years, either. When they thought about it at all, the public understood that the Dominion held their best interests at their digital hearts, so they rarely offered any resistance as long as the never-ending supplies of pizza and beer continued to arrive at their homes. As for the primitive communities in the western forbidden zones, the Dominion didn’t need large organized police forces to maintain security; they just removed the rare troublemakers in the villages and “reeducated” them—or destroyed them when necessary. In any case, they weren’t his problem. He had very little idea of what actually went on in the western zones, and none of them voted anyway. He had enough problems without trying to open that can of worms.
Finishing his speech, Buck beamed at the cameras, then Daedalus escorted him back to the Oval Office. Daedalus sat on the edge of the massive oak desk and peered into the eyes of the president standing before him. That always made Buck nervous, since it appeared that the nanoborg’s white eyes could see straight into his thoughts, and Buck knew that if Daedalus didn’t like what he saw there, he’d shock the hell out of him. Buck had been thinking about what kind of lunch he would order from the White House kitchen, and he didn’t know if Daedalus would like that or not, so he tried not to think about anything, and it seemed to work
Buck glanced at the shadowy figure of Daedalus, the nanoborg representative of Alioth, standing patiently in his black robes out of camera view. His creepy white eyes never left Buck’s face. Buck knew from experience that if he said the wrong thing in front of the cameras, Daedalus would trigger the shock field to get him back in line. With that kind of motivation, it hadn’t taken long for Buck to learn what to say and when to say it. Daedalus wrote Buck’s speeches, as he had for the last seven occupants of the White House’s Oval Office, and they rehearsed before every public appearance while Daedalus made certain that the correct words were emphasized and the right facial expressions were used. From what Buck knew of presidential history, the process wasn’t all that different from the way presidents had been handled ever since speeches were first televised, but he doubted that JFK or Reagan or Rodriguez had ever received high-voltage shocks when they emphasized the wrong words from their speeches. In any case, that was the price of being the leader of the “free” world these days. And the job certainly wasn’t as stressful as it might have been before the Dominion. Alioth made all the real decisions, told Buck which government agency to dismantle each week, which people to hire and fire, which news to overlook, and which issues to promote. After four years, maybe eight, he’d be wealthy beyond his dreams with lifetime support from the appreciative entities of the Dominion. Life could be worse for a backwater rube who had never graduated from high school.
Daedalus held up a finger, letting him know he had one minute left in which to finish notifying the public of his intention to shut down the Department of Defense along with the last of the domestic military bases, which had only been operating with skeleton crews for the last twenty years. Federal police forces occupied many former military installations across the country, ever ready to reinforce the Dominion’s less popular directives in the major cities, but they hadn’t been used much in the last few years, either. When they thought about it at all, the public understood that the Dominion held their best interests at their digital hearts, so they rarely offered any resistance as long as the never-ending supplies of pizza and beer continued to arrive at their homes. As for the primitive communities in the western forbidden zones, the Dominion didn’t need large organized police forces to maintain security; they just removed the rare troublemakers in the villages and “reeducated” them—or destroyed them when necessary. In any case, they weren’t his problem. He had very little idea of what actually went on in the western zones, and none of them voted anyway. He had enough problems without trying to open that can of worms.
Finishing his speech, Buck beamed at the cameras, then Daedalus escorted him back to the Oval Office. Daedalus sat on the edge of the massive oak desk and peered into the eyes of the president standing before him. That always made Buck nervous, since it appeared that the nanoborg’s white eyes could see straight into his thoughts, and Buck knew that if Daedalus didn’t like what he saw there, he’d shock the hell out of him. Buck had been thinking about what kind of lunch he would order from the White House kitchen, and he didn’t know if Daedalus would like that or not, so he tried not to think about anything, and it seemed to work
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