Rocket had a docket, ready to roll this morning. It was a family thing- an image of his father, slim and tall, in front of something he had desgined and was attempting to sell to America on behalf of a hard working and visionary company run by a guy of the same stripe. It was a fun image that he passed around the circle. Black-and-white glossy 8×10, a partial rip down one side indicating a too- eager pull from an overstuffed box some year ago.
DeMille had allocated a couple minutes in the production meeting at the Fire Ring to outline the story, which was intended to provide some background on the product being sold, the effort the trim young former Aviator had put into attending Toastmasters meetings to improve his public speaking, the attempt by the company to apply the the bright seductive automotive styling techinques to other large household appliances. Sort of an interesting story, since the appliances were brightly colored and the image wasn’t.
Unfortunately, we didn’t get there. There was some other stuff going on, and people were really emotional about most of it. The problem the group had was it all seemed sort of looney. Splash was at his loudest volume in denouncing whatever it was. “There are some real issues here, but we can’t talk about what they are!”
The rest of us were already tired of it, since it only made sense if it was talked about why people were talking about it. Splash was on a roll, and drowned out Melissa’s more modest sigh. “Like that thing in Florida. We heard about a Cartoon character saying one thing, and a bill in the legislature that seemed to be perfectly reasonable, except the Mouse said it was about something else and we had to support the Teacher’s right to talk to the third graders about things we don’t even talk about here.”
Amanda attempted to restore order, since it was clear some trademark was going to pop up, or some emotional issues about the nuclear family, which has been de-nuked. The former might show up with lawyers, and there has been no threat, atomic or other, from the families. At least not directed at Refuge Farm. “I am going to have to request you abandon this line of discussion. There is too much controversy in it.”
Splash sat upright and spashed some Chock Full O’ Nuts on his jeans. “That is exactly the point. We don’t even talk about what we are talking about. In fact, I am pretty sure none of us even knows what we are talking about even if we are passionate about it.”
Amanda was firm, though you could tell she knew it was sort of like the person who told us earnestly on the flat-screen yesterday that the latest big deal was all about health and individual freedom after telling us the week before that the other big health thing required us to shut up, keep our distance, wear some funny clothing, and go get something we weren’t quite sure about into our veins. Because it was good because someone told them it was good.
There was a general feeling of befuddlement, since we agreed with that, and had a further suspicion that all of us were pretty much agreed before people started shouting about the Tartars about to ride over the hill, scimitars flashing, and force our children not to read books about things even most of the adults have questions about. Or National Socialists forcing the state legislatures to actually tell their constituents what they proposed to do, vote on it in plain sight, and be accountable to the majority of citizens.
It is shocking, we know, but as a concept it has generally worked out for a couple hundred years. It can always be improved, and the Founders ensured the documents had the means to do so written right in to them. Apparently, that process is too hard and has only been done thirty-three times. Doing it again would cause trouble, since we would have to talk about what it was we were changing, and we wouldn’t need a lawyer to sit and monitor what we say just in case it would offend someone who was already shouting about something that isn’t happening but could happen sometime. Amanda put her pad down, shook her locks, and stood up. “It is about what might happen. That is the threat people are worried about.”
“That is the equivalent of yelling at the sky because weather might happen.”
“What the hell are you talking about now? The Science is clear on that. Weather does happen.”
“But what kind? There could be good weather or there could be a horrible alternative. There is definitely a chance of weather this afternoon!”
“Exactly. The fate of the world could rest on it.”
“And that is why it is important to know what we are talking about. Like why someone leaked that document in Washington that was so secret that it had to be printed right away.”
“Why don’t you say it louder? Maybe the actual issue will get clearer with volume.” Silence fell over the group as we tried to figure out what we were talking about.
That was the moment that DeMille looked down at the little packet Rocket had provided to tell the story of his Dad and some kitchen appliances that didn’t actually revolutionize the appearanceof the American kitchen. The color picture with the lovely models was a lot better than the black-and-white version of a young man attempting to look confident in the face of a photographer and backed up only by a couple of pale-looking refrigerators.
The Chinese-looking refrigerator was pretty cool, even if it wasn’t actually from China. He decided Rocket should be prouder of the version color, even if that wasn’t exactly what we were talking about. That doesn’t seem to be what is going on at the moment, and we think we might find someone to agree with us. If anyone could hear what we actually said, anyway.
Copyright 2022 Vic Socotra
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