Looking Backward from the Tricentennial

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The parlor was quiet—too quiet—as Julian waited for Polly Sigh to appear. Although he could have looked up the answer to the question of how the American Union made endorsements when the candidates refused to support their legislative demands, he enjoyed these interactions with various experts, and Polly seemed to enjoy addressing his questions. More importantly, she might be able to answer a question that had never been asked in this universe.

Last night, after he had returned from Charlotte's warehouse, Julian talked with Ray about the events of the last few days. It cemented his legacy as the most interesting sleeper that the doctor had ever revived. Ray began listening sympathetically, waiting to hear what had gone wrong with Idabee, but his scientific mind rebelled at the concept of time travel and a multiverse. He refused to accept it.

Julian despaired. Ray good-naturedly agreed to his suggestion that they invite everyone—Idabee, Edith, Delroy, and Charlotte—over for dinner, where they could verify what he was saying. Then, one detail broke through and shattered his disbelief. Ray rose silently, paced back and forth, and retrieved the bottle of whiskey. After downing a stiff drink—Julian joined him in solidarity—he admitted remembering his mother being disturbed by a mysterious letter she'd received when he was a boy. Physical letters were almost unheard of, but what he recalled about this one was the color of Edith's envelope—robin's-egg blue.

"That's when she did it," Ray realized. "She altered your medical records to make it appear you'd requested revival in 2076. Since I'd heard your story many times, I couldn't make sense of how you'd requested a specific date when you were supposed to be in a medical coma. But when I confronted her a few months ago, she insisted the records were correct."

A gentle tone returned Julian's focus to the parlor, where Polly Sigh began to flicker into existence across from him. Julian grinned when he saw her. "I like the red," he offered after they made eye contact. Polly's hair was now shockingly bright, like a child might color a heart.

"Thanks," she replied, preening. "Where's Idabee?"

"She decided not to come," Julian said truthfully. Idabee's absence disappointed him. Her enthusiasm for digging into the mechanics of political science was one of her many charming qualities. He hoped she would accept Ray's invitation for dinner.

"We were talking about how the American Union makes endorsements, right?" Polly prompted.

Julian nodded agreement. "You said it's based on what candidates do on Muster Day—if they fast for peace with the American Union of swing voters to accept their demands?"

"Support the demand for immediate passage of the legislative package, yes," Polly clarified. "Incumbents always have the first chance. They are guaranteed the American Union's endorsement if they commit their support and deliver the legislation, without amendment, to the president's desk within one week. If they refuse, but their major party challenger joined the fast, then the challenger gets the endorsement."

That seemed straightforward enough. "And what happens if they both do?"

"That's always the goal, Julian; it's a fast for peace. Then the American Union has succeeded in building consensus about what exactly Congress should be doing, but before the election, when voters—especially swing voters—have leverage.

"Remember, the challenger is a constituent, too. If they demand that their representative pass the legislation immediately and their demand is met, then they're expected to support the American Union endorsement of the incumbent. Persuading Congress to act before the election means we all win. Sometimes challengers drop out of the race; others might do something as simple as issue a statement saying they'll be voting for the incumbent instead of themselves.