BAD WINE CRAPPY CHOCOLATE

CHAPTER FOUR-4

Cybil started to dance with a man from the group that had been standing around her. Brandon waited for several moments before cutting in. His sister recognized him instantly.
"Thank god," she whispered, embracing her younger brother. "You ass! I was so worried about you!"
"Congratulations," Brandon said with a heartfelt smile. "I knew you could do it."
"Thanks. I wouldn't have been elected without Chris, though. He called in some of his markers to help get me some important endorsements. After seventy years, he had a lot of them."
"This is your accomplishment," Brandon corrected her. "The people believe in your message." "He's been worried sick about you, too, though he'd never admit it."
"Is Chris here?"
"No. He said this was my night and his being here would take some of the attention away from me. What happened at Allisours? They claim that you stole credits from the company."
"I didn't take any credits, though I did take something even more valuable. That's what I came to speak to you about. Can we talk privately?"
"I can't now, because they're about to introduce me to the crowd. But I have a private room on the third floor. I'll be having meetings there, but if you come by after midnight I should be alone. Tell the security people outside my door that your name is Neva Hare."
"Who's that?"
"No one, actually. That's just a name they made up."
"I'll see you then."
"I love what you've done with your eyes," she whispered to him. "Blue always suited you better
than brown."
Brandon watched his sibling approach the podium as the enthusiastic crowd waited in
anticipation. The excitement generated by her promise of change was palpable. For the first time, Cybil truly understood the magnitude of the task before her. Millions of people would now be expecting the newly elected senator to transform their lives. Cybil took a deep breath before addressing the people.

Promises are not difficult to make, but often impossible to fulfill. The ones Cybil Cane made during her campaign had become their expectations, and were now her burden to bear.
"My fellow citizens of the Second Territory," she began. "I'm honored by your trust in me. I pledge to give you control over your lives. The opportunities we can create together are limitless."
Everyone in the large room heard her clearly, no matter how far away they were from the podium. They all had a communications chip implanted in their brains. The audience responded enthusiastically to her words, but given that the people had long ago been entranced by her deep green eyes and melodious voice, anything she said would have received applause. This graceful woman was their symbol for hope.
"We have become shut-ins, a people who no longer have any sense of community. I want to change that, beginning with the young. Our schools should teach their students how to develop relationships with other people."
She continued on for another hour, stoking the crowd's desire to believe that their new senator could deliver a more promising future. After Cybil finished speaking, an uncountable number of rose petals fell from the ceiling, some of them landing on her short black hair. She thanked the crowd and left the podium.
So much work to do, the senator-elect thought as she went to her room.
Brandon listened for a while and then looked for Jesse. He found her sitting at a table, seeing to Ethel's needs. Afterwards they danced, and when the midnight hour arrived it found them in a passionate embrace.
"I really have to go," Brandon said reluctantly.
"How long will you be?"
"I have a lot to tell her. Why don't you go home? I'll be there as soon as I can."
Jesse pulled away from him, and then looked at Brandon with a sultry smile.
"For a while I was afraid I'd never be saying this to you again: I need you in the worst way
tonight, babe. Don't be long."

***
Cybil Cane was meeting with the citizens' committee. Mira Thurman, its chairperson, was dressed as a queen. Her host found that to be very fitting, since in the senator-elect's opinion this woman had the unbridled arrogance of one. Though the committee could only act in an advisory capacity, it could, as a practical matter, make life very difficult for an elected official. The public works department and other such agencies could suddenly become very inefficient if the committee chairperson whispered the right words in a certain person's ear. That would result in a wave of discontent breaking over the citizenry, and the end of the senator's political career.
"I'm sorry Senator Cane isn't here," Mira said. "I wanted to say goodbye to him. We've done a lot of good work together over the years."
"We sure have," added her husband Lenny, who was dressed as a soldier.
"Give me a break, Lenny. You slept through most of the meetings. His memory is shot to hell from being zapped at the Vitala plant. He worked there for thirty years, you know. The only reason Allisours gets away with doing that is because the people who work in the factories aren't the sharpest tools in the shed. They have less education, so they're desperate for a job."
"It didn't hurt my memory!" Lenny objected.
"I have to agree with your better half, Mira," Cybil agreed. "The shock only temporarily inhibits the workers' short term memory."
"It's just my age, hon," Lenny said.
"Oh, bullshit. I'm one hundred and twenty years old and don't forget a thing. Now let's get this show on the road."
Cybil looked at the 12 individuals sitting around the table and her spirits sank. When one won a seat on this committee, they generally did not lose it: only the grim reaper could bring about a change in the makeup of this advisory group. As a result, the majority of these people were much older than Cybil.