After a week of excited talk about the welfare reform rules it was apparent to Belinda and everyone like her that public opinion was not in their favor. If anything they stood to lose the meager handouts Whiting was offering them.
'This is a bunch of fuckin' bullshit,' Belinda told the computer screen one night after smoking the last of her marijuana supply. She had just received the first of her monthly vouchers via email and, as promised, there was no credits or dollars listed in them.
She longed for the way things used to be, when the booze was free, the asshole that lived with her was fucking her on a regular basis, and no one expected her to go out and find a fucking job.
The fervor over the welfare reform act died down quickly the last week of December when the subject of 'the vote' was raised for the first time. It was Jack Strough who raised it and once it was brought to the public's attention it would only be called 'the vote' when discussed.
'It's obvious that myself and Governor Whiting have very differing views on the direction this planet should take in the post-revolutionary phase,' Strough announced at a press conference. 'I represent an organization that a good portion of our blue collar workers now belong to — the Martian Federation of Labor — and I speak to you now as their voice. We have achieved what Ms. Whiting set out to do. We have beaten the WestHem marines and chased them from our planet. Now it is time for us to reconcile with them in the interest of all Martians.
'Governor Whiting's idealistic plans of an isolated planet, independent from the economies of EastHem and WestHem sound good after smoking a few bowls and bullshitting with your buddies over artichokes and cheesecake, but they hardly hold water in the real world. We cannot exist without WestHem. They are our mother country and they are the ones who must purchase the majority of what we produce here. We must establish diplomacy with them, negotiate a permanent armistice, exchange our prisoners, and, most of all, trade with them in the great tradition of democratic capitalism. It is a nice pipe dream that we can be fully independent but it can't happen in real life. It simply can't!
'If we do not negotiate now, from a position of strength, WestHem is going to send more troops here and forcibly take Mars back from those who fought so hard to keep it. They are going to take over the labor rolls again and cut everything to the bare minimum, bringing us back to the unemployment levels we had before. They are going to sever the ties we recently established with EastHem and force us back into the monopoly of buying only their coffee, only their alcohol, only their tobacco. Did we sacrifice so much these past months just to have it all taken away from us? Just to subject ourselves to occupation by the very WestHem marines we just ejected from this place?
'I say that is not an acceptable answer. We are in the position of strength now and it is time to start negotiating an acceptable peace with WestHem. We can give them back their corporate holdings but regulate how they are allowed to run them on Mars. We can keep our government intact and insure that the majority of this planet's wealth stays here. This is the only answer, people. Becoming a communistic, isolated planet that does not accept WestHem money for the goods we provide is Governor Whiting's way. Being realistic in our goals and ambitions is my way. Now I want to know what you, the Martian people, think about all of this.
'We must pick one path or the other and we must do it soon. For this reason I am challenging Governor Whiting to put our respective ideologies to a vote. I suggest we schedule it for the second Tuesday in January. The question will be a simple one. Do we remain committed to complete independence — which would entail fighting for this planet's freedom again and again until the WestHems either give up or defeat us — or do we open negotiations for the peaceful reconciliation of our two planets in such a way that guarantees us de facto independence?
'I'm awaiting Governor Whiting's reply.'
He ended the press conference a moment later, not staying to answer questions.
Laura Whiting's reply was an angry one.
'Did we not already vote on this?' she asked the public the next day. 'In the very beginning, after the MPG secured this planet from WestHem, we
But Jack Strough remained persistent in his insistence on a new vote. The other labor union heads in his federation — of all whom had long been on record as opposing Martian independence — added their voices to his. They bombarded their members with emails, speeches, and video files, stating their position over and over. Eventually much of the blue-collar work force began to respond to their words, began to believe that maybe Jack Strough's way really was the better way. These workers began to send emails to Laura Whiting and the legislature demanding that the vote take place 'in the interests of all Martians'.
'Things have changed,' was the most common quote in these emails — a quote supplied to them by Strough and the other labor heads. 'We have achieved the respect we were looking for and can regulate our own destiny now. There is no more need for bloody battles out in the wastelands to keep corporate influence minimized. Now is the time for good old-fashioned diplomacy and negotiation to have its turn.'
Interestingly enough, the MPG soldiers who had actually fought the WestHems were almost unanimously opposed to the vote or to settling for anything other than complete autonomy from WestHem.
'Those fuckin' factory workers, agricultural workers, miners, and dock workers are trying to throw away everything we just fought for,' Jeff Creek complained to Belinda and Xenia one night. 'And they're doing it in our name! They want to throw everything away so that
But the MPG, as popular as it was among the Martian populace, was outnumbered by the blue-collar workers by more than fifty to one. Their voice was not powerful enough to be heard, their vote unimportant to people such as Jack Strough. Eventually, Laura Whiting was forced to call another special election, scheduled — as requested by Strough — for the second Tuesday in January. The wording of the ballet was simple and straightforward. The voter was asked to make one of two choices.
The first read:
The second read:
Golden Tower Housing Complex, New Pittsburgh
January 3, 2147
0255 hours.
The buzzing of his Internet terminal awoke General Jackson from the fitful sleep he'd been engaged in. He pulled himself out of bed, grumbling under his breath, and walked naked to the terminal, seeing that the call was from Captain Warren, the head of Laura Whiting's security detail (which had been reduced to little more than a surveillance detail since the governor refused to have anyone guard her anymore).
Jackson sighed and told the computer to answer. Warren's worried face appeared. 'Sorry to wake you, General,' he said.
'That's okay,' Jackson said. 'Where is she now?'
'She's on a train to Eden,' Warren said. 'She boarded the red-eye less than an hour ago. One of the men I have following her managed to make it on board with her. He reports she's talking to the passengers that are awake, telling them why they should vote for continued independence.'
'Eden?' he said, looking up at the ceiling. 'What in the hell is she doing now?'
'We looked through the planner on her computer,' Warren said. 'Apparently she's going to meet personally with members of the Agricultural Workers union as they go on shift in the morning. She's alerted MarsGroup so they can have a crew down at the deployment docks for the morning shift.'
'Damn that woman,' he said. 'She's going to give me a fucking ulcer yet. Is it public knowledge what she's doing?'
'Not as far as I can tell,' Warren said. 'It sounds just like the same deal as with the miners and the manufacturing union members she met with here in NP.'
