interview correctly.
—I was merely being a smart politician, Max. However megalomaniacal it may sound, I do have a legacy, and I don’t want to leave it to just anyone. Which brings us conveniently to the point.
—Look, I’m sorry again about the fundraiser, but Talon was sick.
—Yes, I know, that’s not the issue. We raised over eighty thousand for you last night. That puts your pot at over 1.2 million. More than enough for airtime, signs, get-out-the-vote projects, the rest of your campaign staff. In short, pretty much enough for the whole race, including your inauguration ball and hair of the dog the morning after. Now, if you would just start your campaign any time in the near future, why, that would be lovely, too. Oh, don’t sigh at me, Max. I’ve known you for ten years. Something’s going on, and I want to know what it is.
—Nothing’s ‘going on'.
—Then answer me this simple question. Do you want to be Mayor or don’t you? Because if you don’t, you’d better tell me right now, as in this morning, or a lot of people are going to be plenty peeved. Fundraising is bad enough, though I am happy to spend my evening touting your real and considerable assets. That’s not bull. I think you’ll make a great Mayor. But explaining to all those folks whose behinds are wet with my saliva why their money might not be going where they thought it was would be much worse.
—I said, I’m sorry for not being there.
—Not the point. I know you model yourself as a kind of brooding idealist—
—I do not.
—You do. You do, and that’s fine. Money to soup kitchens, needle-exchange programs, hunger relief for The Crash, all good stuff, but it’s the idealism catch that’s been around forever: in order to accomplish anything idealistic, you have to first be in a position of power to do something.
—That’s not quite true. Volunteers implement a lot of idealistic ideas.
—Oh, for God’s sake, Max, quit being argumentative. It’s a simple equation. Idealism without implementation equals moral impotence. I know you find politicking distasteful, so do I, but why come this far just to not get over that final qualm? Is it a case of nerves? Is it a matter of requiring a simple pep talk? Because I can do that if that’s all you need. But I’m worried that it might be something more. Well, not worried exactly, but aware that something’s at work here. So stop being evasive and start talking.
—Cora, there’s nothing I could tell you that would ease your mind.
—So don’t ease my mind. Shake it up a bit. I’ll manage.
—All right then. It’s this whole question of the inevitability of it all.
—You mean the election being a foregone conclusion?
—Well, yes, in a way, but I also mean for myself. I haven’t done anything since I got out of law school except work here and stay on this career fast-track. I’ll be forty in three years, and I’ve never done anything else.
—My suspicion is that that’s probably just cold feet, Max. It’s natural to question your motivation, especially just as you’re about to join the battle to move to the next level.
—I wouldn’t believe you’ve ever gotten cold feet about anything.
—Every time I’ve run. Hell, I get cold feet when I decide where to go for dinner. ‘Do I really want noodles?’ Perfectly natural, even more so for someone like you who’s introspective to a rather large and annoying degree. You commit five years of your life by becoming Mayor, more if you include the campaign.
—It’s not the time commitment that bothers me, although it’s odd to think that Talon will be about to graduate from high school before my first term is up. I don’t like to think I’d be slighting her. But more to the point it feels as if I’ve been heading for this and only this from the beginning, that Mayor is what I was destined to be. At least that’s what people seem to say when they talk to me, that fate has selected me out because of
—I was merely being a smart politician, Max. However megalomaniacal it may sound, I do have a legacy, and I don’t want to leave it to just anyone. Which brings us conveniently to the point.
—Look, I’m sorry again about the fundraiser, but Talon was sick.
—Yes, I know, that’s not the issue. We raised over eighty thousand for you last night. That puts your pot at over 1.2 million. More than enough for airtime, signs, get-out-the-vote projects, the rest of your campaign staff. In short, pretty much enough for the whole race, including your inauguration ball and hair of the dog the morning after. Now, if you would just start your campaign any time in the near future, why, that would be lovely, too. Oh, don’t sigh at me, Max. I’ve known you for ten years. Something’s going on, and I want to know what it is.
—Nothing’s ‘going on'.
—Then answer me this simple question. Do you want to be Mayor or don’t you? Because if you don’t, you’d better tell me right now, as in this morning, or a lot of people are going to be plenty peeved. Fundraising is bad enough, though I am happy to spend my evening touting your real and considerable assets. That’s not bull. I think you’ll make a great Mayor. But explaining to all those folks whose behinds are wet with my saliva why their money might not be going where they thought it was would be much worse.
—I said, I’m sorry for not being there.
—Not the point. I know you model yourself as a kind of brooding idealist—
—I do not.
—You do. You do, and that’s fine. Money to soup kitchens, needle-exchange programs, hunger relief for The Crash, all good stuff, but it’s the idealism catch that’s been around forever: in order to accomplish anything idealistic, you have to first be in a position of power to do something.
—That’s not quite true. Volunteers implement a lot of idealistic ideas.
—Oh, for God’s sake, Max, quit being argumentative. It’s a simple equation. Idealism without implementation equals moral impotence. I know you find politicking distasteful, so do I, but why come this far just to not get over that final qualm? Is it a case of nerves? Is it a matter of requiring a simple pep talk? Because I can do that if that’s all you need. But I’m worried that it might be something more. Well, not worried exactly, but aware that something’s at work here. So stop being evasive and start talking.
—Cora, there’s nothing I could tell you that would ease your mind.
—So don’t ease my mind. Shake it up a bit. I’ll manage.
—All right then. It’s this whole question of the inevitability of it all.
—You mean the election being a foregone conclusion?
—Well, yes, in a way, but I also mean for myself. I haven’t done anything since I got out of law school except work here and stay on this career fast-track. I’ll be forty in three years, and I’ve never done anything else.
—My suspicion is that that’s probably just cold feet, Max. It’s natural to question your motivation, especially just as you’re about to join the battle to move to the next level.
—I wouldn’t believe you’ve ever gotten cold feet about anything.
—Every time I’ve run. Hell, I get cold feet when I decide where to go for dinner. ‘Do I really want noodles?’ Perfectly natural, even more so for someone like you who’s introspective to a rather large and annoying degree. You commit five years of your life by becoming Mayor, more if you include the campaign.
—It’s not the time commitment that bothers me, although it’s odd to think that Talon will be about to graduate from high school before my first term is up. I don’t like to think I’d be slighting her. But more to the point it feels as if I’ve been heading for this and only this from the beginning, that Mayor is what I was destined to be. At least that’s what people seem to say when they talk to me, that fate has selected me out because of
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