BAD WINE CRAPPY CHOCOLATE

CHAPTER FIVE-10

"Wonders will never cease," the political advisor said as he pointed to his thick blonde hair. "My hairline is no longer receding, thanks to Allisours."
"Congratulations," a weary Cane responded. "One day they may even cure the common cold."
"They've done something more miraculous than that. Because of Allisours, I'm running every day. That Vitala has given me so much energy, I needed a way to work it off. I weigh less now than I did in high school. I can't even remember where the couch is anymore."

"You could be the poster boy for the Roster Plan," Chris responded with a laugh.
"You've heard about those construction workers that were killed on the south side of Chicago?"
"Yes, a real tragedy. Seven young men lost, four with families."
"You're going to the memorial services, right?"
"No. I have to be sure there's enough of that new metal they call autal to continue construction." "They make that from the cars people are turning in, right? How could it run out? No one needs cars anymore. They either walk or use the train."
"It's true, there's plenty of material available to make it. But someone has to make sure the
manufacturer of autal is running at full capacity every day."
"You don't have to worry about that. There's money to be made from all the construction that's going on. They'll keep the stuff coming."
"I also want to review the progress that's been made on constructing the greenhouses to grow
fruit for the Second Territory. I'm not going to use my time for symbolic gestures, Roger. I believe the people have had enough of those kinds of leaders. I'm going to spend every second making the Roster Plan a success. At the end of the day, that's all my constituents really need. And it's what I want to be remembered for."
He did take a short break from his labors on one particular afternoon. His boyhood home in the Chicago suburb of Libertyville was being razed with the other houses there. The declining prices in the housing market made willing sellers out of their owners. Several towering apartment buildings would stand in their place, as the once suburban landscape became part of the new Chicago.
The senator observed the staring eyes of the people on the train while he rode to his old hometown. Their minds were completely absorbed by the Mibils that had been implanted inside them. Reading a newspaper or book had become passé: the computer chips provided all the information and entertainment they required.
I hope that we don't become a nation of zombies, he thought to himself.

Chris Cane was almost overcome by a sudden surge of sadness as he watched his former home disappear. Though the innocence he possessed when living in the house had been lost for many years, deep inside this grown man was the belief that it could be found once more, so long as there was a landmark to bring him back to those times.
"Senator Cane. Are you going to do anything about those hoodlums who hang out on the corner of Michigan Avenue?" asked an older woman not mesmerized by her Mibil.
"I'll have an officer form the Security Bureau look into it, madam," he assured her. "The Security Bureau? Don't you mean the police?"
"I've spoken out of turn," Chris responded with a smile. "A new law enforcement agency is being created. It's called the Security Bureau. They'll do all the things the police used to do, and a few things they didn't. But don't tell anyone about it until you hear it on the Information Bureau newscast, or I'll get a lot of grief from the people who work for me."
Despite having to deal with such issues as the lack of protection for pedestrians when it rained (he addressed it by building underground tunnels) or finding space for the air craft to land (designated parking spaces were created on the side of the walkway), Senator Cane did not fail to note Jack Ruderman's death. The man who had visited him on the historic day that marked the beginning of the consolidation movement died in an auto accident. He had been widely discredited by then, the media having portrayed Vitala's inventor as a money-seeking liar who turned on his own creation because of greed. His wife committed suicide soon after. On the Mibil broadcast announcing her passing, Chris saw the picture of their children, Cybil and Brandon.
He had never been in love. His romantic relationships had always been brief, in large part due to his fixation on the affairs of state. Still, the senator was a compassionate person, and now his heart went out to Cybil and Brandon. They could be the family Chris thought he'd never have. After a very long and arduous process, he adopted the Ruderman children.
Now Chris Cane looked out from the hilltop on the megatropolis that he and his colleagues had created. The senator of the Second Sovereign Territory was pleased.

"Sorry I had to take that call, Chris," Cybil said. "Erma wanted to let me know that the memorial service for the air craft pilot killed last week will be at nine o'clock."
"You're not going to that, are you?"
"Yes, I am. I think it's my place to comfort her family."
"I've told you a thousand times," Cane said. "The people want productive leaders, not a shoulder to cry on."
"I think it's appropriate. Especially since her husband claims that she was working too many
hours because they were having trouble paying for their Vitala."
"You don't want to get involved in that. The market sets the price."
"I'm already involved. I've been having discussions with the other members of the senate. We've all but agreed to nationalize Allisours. I'll bet that's why Foster wants to do away with me, though I don't know how he could have found out about it."
Senator Cane responded with the fire he had famously exhibited during his political career. For a moment, Cybil thought he would be consumed by his rage.
"Damn it! Damn it all to hell! I told you to give up that ridiculous notion!"
"It's not ridiculous. I, and many others, believe that Allisours is keeping the supply of Vitala low to make the price go up. People can't live without it. The drug is too important to let a private company control its production."
"It's a nutritional supplement."
Cybil gave him a skeptical look.
"Who said people can't live without it?" the senator asked.
"There have been numerous reports of people dying after they stopped taking it." "You mean there have been unfounded rumors!"
"No one except the people at Allisours knows what's in Vitala."
"The Consumer Safety Commission monitors its production."
"But their memories are erased after they inspect the plant."

"That's why the Seven Territories continues to have a monopoly on it. I'd say that's a good thing! We were able to drastically reduce defense spending because no one will attack us now—the rest of the world needs its Vitala. And people are living much longer than they used to because of the supplement. I'm proof of that. That's also a good thing."
"The government should know what's in it," Cybil countered. "We're responsible for the people's safety and well being, including their financial well being. Most people can barely afford to buy it. And they're the fortunate ones. We think the government should be responsible for the production of Vitala."
"Who in the government knows the first thing about manufacturing anything? You certainly don't. And none of the other senators do either. Who are you going to rely on? The people who run the civil service bureau? They can barely keep the lights on, for God's sake. Don't let your name become associated with this harebrained idea. If you do, you'll have the shortest career of any senator in history, believe me. The people want their Vitala. You should leave well enough alone."
"We don't trust Foster and his friends," insisted Cybil. "I know you've always worked closely with them, but for the last several years it seems that Allisours can't get out of its own way. The theft of Vitala is rampant. Max Bardy and his kind live like kings off of it. Allisours claims they have to charge a high price for the drug because it's so expensive to combat the thieves. But no matter how much they spend for security, the Vitala still gets stolen. All Allisours has to do to protect their shipments is to use the big air ships, which the government has offered to them. They fly too high for the thieves to bring down. We've also offered to provide security people with paralysis rods. Yet the people at Allisours refuse to let the government get involved in protecting their product. I wonder why."