Beyond Mudslinging

Alex Dorphin had seen it all before. This election year would be no different than any in the past. As always, the race for the seat on the Galactic Council was heating up, with the incumbent, Bill Fisher, ready for the challenge that would come from his two opponents, Anne Jamieson and Leo Thompson.

It was the last year of Alex's study at the University of Epsilon Eridani. He was studying political science and it was now time for him to begin his internship. Time to make a difference, or die trying. He was preparing to spend the next two months working with one of the candidates; he just hadn't decided which one. There was the Galactician candidate, incumbent Bill Fisher, whose primary platform was one of striving for unity among the 40 inhabited planets. He could also choose the Expansionist candidate, Anne Jamieson. She and her party favored the goal of colonizing as many planets as they possibly could. His final option was the Separatist party and Leo Thompson, who favored complete isolation for Epsilon Eridani Four. They wanted no contact with any of the other planets. It was going to be a tough decision, but not one he had time to make.

Alex continued combing through his hair as the view-screen behind him babbled on about the need for food rations on Epsilon Indi Five. Alex didn't pay any attention to the story. Downing the last of his coffee, he turned off the view-screen and ran out the door, hoping he wouldn't be late to Professor Jenkins' ethics class, although he wished he could skip it all together.

As he rounded the second corner from his house, he ran into Randall Van der Poel, one of his best friends.

"Slow down, Alex. Where you headed in such a hurry?"

"Jenkins' ethics class."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Randall said, trying to suppress a laugh. "Did you finish your project for history?"

Alex started to forget the time, as he usually did when he talked to Randall. "Yeah, I did. You?"

"Of course. I did mine on the benefits of the military dictatorship that was set up during the colonization of Epsilon Four. What about you?"

Alex always thought Randall was too enthusiastic about his own projects, but that was Randall. "I did a comparison of Communist and democratic governments of ancient Earth."

Randall looked impressed, but then Alex always seemed to find a way to impress him. Randall rubbed his hand along his chin. "Alex, I hope you don't think I'm getting too personal, but why do you want to become a politician?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Alex said in exasperation. He always seemed to be answering this question. "I want to make an impression on the world. I want to make it a better place to live."

Randall smiled a smug little smile. "So why do you want to be a politician?"

"I just told you why."

"No, you talked about all sorts of great things that other people do. I've never heard of politicians doing those things."

"They used to," Alex said. He shook his head and stared at the ground. "Most of the politicians today are a bunch of lying and cheating slugs, but I think it's time for a change."

"Sounds great," Randall said, shaking his head. "See you at lunch."

"Sure," Alex said, walking away from his friend. He had no idea how crazy people thought he was, but a part of him knew that Randall respected him, at least in some way.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet. . .

"Do you mean to tell me that I have to have a bunch of college kids following me around, trying to help me?" A very flustered and angry, graying woman was saying, as other patrons of the diner tried to listen into the conversation without appearing to do so.

"Yes, Miss Jamieson. It's a requirement for their graduation. You did agree to this several moths ago."

"I did," she answered in confusion. "Andrews, it's your job to see to it that I don't do stupid things. How am I supposed to win an election with a bunch of brats following me around?"

"All of the candidates will have them. It's sort of a tradition on this backwards planet to involve the public in elections. Don't ask me why."

"Yes. . .but I hate kids."

"They could be useful for the campaign," Andrews said, leaning forward and lowering his voice.

"How?"

"Public relations, gophers, and maybe even helping us to get inside information," he said with a wink.

"Spies?" She had yelled the word in her surprise and a silence had fallen over the diner.

"Miss Jamieson, please keep your voice down. I didn't say spies. I was thinking more along the lines of covert information gatherers."

"What's the difference?"

"None. My version just sounds better."

"It seems immoral. I don't know if I want to do anything illegal that I might get caught for."

"Anne, there hasn't been an honest election since the twentieth century on Earth, or maybe even longer. Why should we start now?"

"We should at least try to run an honest campaign, or try to look like we are, don't you think?"

"Saying that Fisher accepts bribes from the Tau Cetians is honest?"

"No, I guess not. I see your point," she said with a smile. "When the little brats get here, choose one as our covert information gatherer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a speech to write." She stood up and left the table without giving Andrews another look.

Later that evening, Alex sat in front of the view screen in his parents' living room. The house had three bedrooms, a fully automated kitchen and dining room, a living room, and two studies. The overall feel of the home was rather sterile though. Neither of Alex's parents had what could be called artistic taste. Both of his parents were well educated, but only within their own fields, as was normal. His father was a chemist, while his mother was a doctor. Both worked long hours, and Alex rarely saw either of them.

Alex had lived on Epsilon Eridani Four his entire life, and had seen many politicians come and go. In order to make a difference, he knew he was going to have to start somewhere. Careful consideration of all of the candidates was what was called for. He felt that Thompson's view of isolation conflicted with his own ideas. Bill Fisher was the favorite, but Alex didn't want to get involved with the favorite. He wanted a challenge. He had to choose Anne Jamieson. He agreed with many of her views and felt that civilization had to expand out into the rest of the universe. She wouldn't have been his first choice, but she seemed to be his only choice. His decision was made; he'd let his professors know in the morning.

A week later, Alex found himself on a strato-jet crossing the Burlington Sea. He, along with 30 other students from the university, would be spending the next two months with the Anne Jamieson for Galactic Council Representative Committee. As the jet descended, Alex looked out over the dancing white caps, rolling and crashing into the deteriorating beach. It looked as if some great predator was devouring the land.

While Alex sat awed by the forces of nature, Anne Jamieson sat in her office waiting for her new assistants. "They're almost here, are they?"

"Yes, Miss Jamieson," her always attentive assistant, Andrews answered.

"How's the rest of the campaign coming?"

"Very well. You're starting to gain on Fisher. Your statements that Fisher supported the separatist movement were a wonderful touch. It's helped to enlarge our coffers. And your idea to try and show that he had a secret marriage on Tau Ceti also worked well. His wife is talking about suing for divorce."

"Good," Jamieson responded as she regarded her chief aide. She stifled a laugh as she realized his long nose and face gave him the appearance of a weasel. A most fitting totem animal. "Try and find an illegitimate kid next."

"Where should I look?" he asked, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back into place.

"You're creative," she said with a grin. "Surprise me."

Alex had never visited the Eastern Continent before. It had the same monotonous obelisk-like skyscrapers that his own continent had, but the sky was littered with jet-cars. He couldn't help craning his neck to stare up at them, chasing each other madly across the sky, narrowly avoiding collisions everywhere they went.

"Don't hurt yourself, son," a tall dark-haired man with old-fashioned wire-rimmed glasses seemed to be saying to him.

"Oh, I won't, sir."

"You're with the Jamieson party, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I am," Alex said with surprise.

"I'm Leonard Andrews. I'm Miss Jamieson's campaign manager."

Alex's mouth opened wide. "It's a great honor to meet you, sir."

Andrews shook his head and chuckled. "Please, I'm tired of being called sir. Just call me Leonard. What's your name?"

"I'm Alex Dorphin," he said, awkwardly sticking his hand out to the other man. Andrews graciously took it and shook it vigorously.

"Well, Alex, I hope I get to see more of you as the campaign goes on, but for now, I really must be getting ready for the orientation. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"It was a pleasure meeting you too, sir, or uh, Leonard," Alex said as he stared at the man's back in disbelief. He hadn't expected to be on a first name basis with the campaign manager. Things were looking up.

Alex spent the next day shopping. He'd promised to send his parents and friends souvenirs as soon as he had time. There was only one meeting that he had to go to, and it wasn't until 5:00; he had time to shop. Hopping on a walkway, he watched all of the sights and everyone that passed. The city reminded him of many of the cities on the Western Continent, but this one was slightly different. One thing that grabbed his attention right away was that everywhere he looked, there was political advertising. There were view screens, posters, buttons, even sky writing promoting the bad characteristics of the various opponents:

"Fisher dates Tau Cetians."

"Jamieson sleeps with her interns."

"Thompson wants to close spaceport."

Alex didn't even stop to think that he rarely heard or saw any good things said about any of the candidates. He had read that old style campaigns promoted the good things the various people were going to do in office, but those were the old days.

As far as Alex could tell, muckraking was the best campaign tool that had ever been invented. After all, it was used almost exclusively everywhere in the galaxy. That had to say something. "Maybe I can't change the world," he reflected. "Maybe it doesn't need to be changed. After all, who was he to judge. Just a college student with very little experience in the world. I still have a lot to learn."

"Andrews, tell me you've found someone," Anne Jamieson said with a broad smile that said she knew he had.

"I have," Andrews replied with a grin. "He's a naive kid from the other side of the ocean. He doesn't act like he has any idea of what a real political campaign is about."

"He'll be perfect." She eased her seat back and smiled at her campaign manager. It was a smile that one might imagine had been on Brutus' face as he watched Caesar die. "We'll have Fisher on his knees in no time. Make sure this election is mine."

Alex had been surprised by the arrival of the message capsule from Leonard Andrews. He hadn't expected a self-destructing message from a major political figure. He also hadn't expected to find Andrews in his running suit at the cafe where he had told Alex to meet him.

"Mr. Andrews, sorry, Leonard, it really was kind of you to ask me to breakfast."

"Think nothing of it, Alex. I always like to help young politicians that seem to show promise. I was talking to Miss Jamieson yesterday, and your name came up. Your school record's impressive, and your psych analysis shows promise." Alex's face crimsoned. "We'd like to start your introduction to her campaign a bit closer to the top than your peers."

Alex looked puzzled. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"We'd like to make you one of her third echelon aides."

"I don't think I'm qualified. I've never been part of anything like this."

"We're not going to put you in charge. I wouldn't want to give up my job, now would I?" His laugh made Alex nervous. It was obviously forced. "We'll start you out small. My idea was to send you on an information gathering mission."

"Like what?"

"Tonight there's a formal gathering at Councilman Fisher's. You're going to go and find out anything you think might help Miss Jamieson."

"Isn't it a private party? How do I get in?" Alex asked, as he began to doubt the sanity of the man across the table from him.

Andrews handed a set of credentials across the table to Alex. "You're now Alex Durant, a reporter from Epsilon Indi Six. You'll be given all the info you need at this address." He handed him a small message capsule. "Don't open it until you're ready to go. It will destroy itself fifteen seconds after it's exposed to air. Make sure you memorize the address. Don't write it down."

"This seems like some sort of spy mission."

"No, son," Andrews laughed his phony laugh again. "This is politics. Take care of yourself tonight, and bring back anything you can. Pictures would be best. I'll meet you here tomorrow at the same time. "Good luck."

He got up and faded into the crowds on the walkways. Alex was left with only his thoughts and a newscast about an epidemic on Sol Four. Nothing seemed to impact him. He was lost in his thoughts, and had no idea what to make of them.

Alex found himself before the most beautiful house he'd ever seen. By far, it wasn't the largest he'd ever seen, but it was the most beautiful. Bill Fisher's house stood on an island in the middle of a lake. It was made entirely of wood, maybe even from the trees that surrounded it. Those trees resembled oaks, but they weren't as tall as oaks, and they had a slightly wider base, as did most plants on Epsilon Eridani Four. The gravity was one and a times that of Earth, and this tended to make the trees, as well as most of the natives, shorter and more squat than they would have been on another planet.

Alex strolled up to the front door, sweating profusely. Two large guards moved in front of the ornately carved door as he approached. He stopped and stared at them.

"Who are you?" the smaller of the two behemoths asked.

"I'm Alex. . ." He had to think wildly for what his last name was supposed to be. "Alex Durant. I'm a reporter from Epsilon Indi Six," he said, flashing his phony credentials.

"So, what can we do for you?" the larger giant asked in a voice that Alex swore shook his bones.

"Like my credentials show, I'm with the Epsilon Indi Six Galactic News Team. I'm here to cover the re-election campaign of Councilman Fisher." Alex was beginning to find that the more he lied, the easier it was for him.

"Let me check that," the larger guard said as he turned to a view screen and quietly spoke into a microphone. Alex admired the various animal forms carved into the door. After a minute, the guard turned and faced Alex with a scowl. "Go ahead."

"Thank you," Alex said with relief as he stepped past the guards, walking into a large ballroom. His first thought was that if the outside of the house was beautiful, the inside could only be described as gaudy. All along the perimeter of the room were holographic images of Bill Fisher doing various things. There were images of him campaigning, of him in his office, even one of him fishing.

Alex walked around for a while before he noticed that the other members if the press were taking images as they browsed through the room. Figuring he'd better look the part, Alex pulled out a tri-D camera from his pocket and began to snap images as he walked amongst the guests. He found himself enjoying the picture taking more than he enjoyed listening to the dull conversations going on around him.

An hour passed before Councilman Fisher made his grand entrance. He entered from an old-fashioned spiral staircase that led to the third floor. On his arm was his wife, and Alex was amazed. For some reason, he'd expected Councilman Fisher's wife to be quite attractive. She always looked that way on the vids, but instead, she was a very ordinary looking woman. Alex might have even thought of her as homely.

Fisher looked like a man that had felt the strain of his office. He was only 45, but he looked as though he might be 70. He was slightly hunched over, and need a cane to walk. Alex couldn't believe that this was the man that represented him in the Council. Alex thought the man had to be on his last legs.

As Councilman Fisher walked among his guests, Alex followed and took a number of pictures of the man with various VIP's. He made sure that he got several angles when Fisher was speaking with a group of Tau Cetians. Fisher was supporting them, at least that's what he'd heard. Whether it was true or not, he wasn't sure, but this was politics. The truth doesn't matter.

Many hours passed and Alex became very bored. He was just beginning to entertain the idea of leaving when he noticed that Fisher was walking to a back room with a young woman. The real reporters were clustered around Fisher's chief aide and didn't notice his leaving. Alex decided to follow him because the woman wasn't one of the dignitaries. She was one of his servants.

It took him a few minutes to find the room, but when he did, he wasn't disappointed. Bill Fisher was in the throes of passion with a woman who couldn't have been older than 20. Alex watched for a while and was quite impressed. The guy's got a lot of stamina for his age, Alex thought. He suddenly remembered the camera. He shot off 20 images and then headed for the door.

The sky turned a deep orange as Epsilon Eridani climbed over the horizon. As the star began its daily journey, Alex Dorphin sat in the small cafe waiting for Leonard Andrews. Alex had already convinced himself that what he had done the night before had been the right thing, but still there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. He hadn't slept all night worrying about it. Leonard brought him out of his internal debate, much to his relief.

"How'd it go?" Leonard asked. Alex noticed that the man didn't sound very optimistic.

"Great. Here's everything you'll need to finish Fisher," he said, tossing the camera to the other man.

"Thanks, I'll be in touch," Andrews said with a frown before turning and leaving. He obviously thought Alex was overreacting, but Alex didn't care because he was alone again, alone with his troubled thoughts.

Two days later, the news broke. Fisher denied it in his best political rhetoric, and somehow, people believed him. Alex had to laugh. He'd heard that a picture was worth a thousand words, but apparently a politician could dismiss a picture with less than a hundred. He hadn't lost the election, but he had lost a few points in the polls. He now sat in second place for the first time, but Anne Jamieson's lead was minute at best.

"We have to ruin him."

"I know, Anne, but I'm not sure how to do it," Andrews said with a sly grin.

"What about the kid? Fisher's giving a speech in two days, and you know he never reads them after his writers give them to him. Get the kid to change the speech. Fisher'll probably read it and ruin himself."

"Jamieson, you're an evil woman. Now I remember why I work for you. I'll talk to the kid and convince him to do it."

Alex hesitated this time. He knew what he was doing was right; he was just scared senseless. Beyond the door where he was now standing was Councilman Fisher's office. The movement sensor Alex had placed on the door was beeping to notify him that the room was empty. He stepped through the door.

The room looked strange to Alex. It was decorated entirely with items that had to be at least a hundred years old. Fisher even had a computer with a keyboard. Alex shook his head. He didn't have time for diversions.

He searched the room and found the speech in the top drawer of the desk. There was no need to hide it; no one could get in this room. At least, that's what Fisher thought, but half of his guards were on Jamieson's payroll.

Alex scanned through the speech, changing a comment condemning the Tau Cetians to one praising them. As a final measure, he made sure that Fisher would admit to having slept with a 16 year old girl (so he'd changed the facts a little. Who wouldn't have?)

He put the speech back in the desk and left. He was almost out of the building, when he came face to face with a pair of guards. They didn't ask why he was in a secured area. They just jumped him and beat him into unconsciousness.

He awoke several days later, or at least he thought it was several days later. His arms, legs, and chest were all restrained by repulsor beams. Obviously he was in trouble. Looking up, he saw Leonard Andrews staring down at him.

"How're you feeling, kid?" Andrews asked with what might have almost been a compassionate tone.

"A little weak. What happened?"

"Fisher's goons caught you."

"Oh no," Alex said with a moan. "Did this ruin Miss Jamieson's chances of winning?"

"Her chances? Kid, she's already won the election."

"How long have I been out?" Alex asked, his voice cracking with surprise.

"A little over two weeks. You've been drugged into a coma, but you're doing better now."

"That's good. I guess I'll be going to jail soon."

"You know, kid," Andrews said with a strange grin, "You won the election for us. We appreciate that," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe. "We wouldn't want you telling anyone how we did it, now would we?"

"No, I guess not," Alex said, his breath quickening as it shallowed. "If I helped you, what's that for?" He motioned with his head towards the syringe.

"It's to guarantee that no one will ever know."

"But why?"

"It's politics, kid," he said with a smile as the syringe slid under Alex's trembling flesh. Alex would have no more dreams of being a politician. He would have no more dreams of any kind.

J Alan's work has appeared in The Sixth Sense, The Ultimate Unknown, Dark Starr, and other small SF presses. He holds a degree in psychology, and is currently working as the Web Editor for Promart Publishing.

E-mail: jerwine@netzero.net

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