An Arsenal of Democracy

[Odinson]

​

It is the great irony of past and present empires that even with all of their power and might, there were places or even entire cities within them that were economically deficient. This was true for the Romans in all phases of their empires, it was true for the Ottomans and the Mamlucks, it was true for the Chinese and Russians, and it was even true for America. The United States, with its mighty economy and undeniably incredible recent history of invention and triumph, had cities and millions of people who were living in conditions that did not reflect the status of the country itself. In the past, these discrepancies could be written off as it being necessary for having a massive lower class to support the tiny upper class. But in a modern society with a prospering middle class, plumbing, electricity, quick transportation, law and order, and the ability to transport products rapidly from one side of the country to another, these inadequacies should have been seen as unacceptable leftovers from the pre-modern era.​

President Al Gore was made aware of the issues that some of America's greatest cities, and some of its former greatest cities, were facing. In fact, he even mentioned this "urban decay" in his 1997 State of the Union address on Independence Day. What had caught the President's eye was a recent news article in the Washington Post, which noted that two entire city blocks of Detroit had burned down - these two blocks, which were filled with homes, were almost entirely abandoned. President Gore vowed to visit Detroit, New York, New Orleans, and other cities in order to see how the federal government could help address these problems. The President contacted the Mayor of Detroit, a fellow Democrat by the name of Ran Matthews, who formally invited the President to visit the city and stay the night. Al decided not to call the Governor of Michigan, a Republican, who had recently publicly criticized the Mayor and called for his resignation. It was widely believed that the governor was simply trying to fire up his base for his re-election campaign. Mayor Matthews planned to take the President through downtown and show him some places that the city could improve, and then they would afterwards head to the Mayor's "retreat" home in Grosse Point Shores - a small city outside of Detroit on Lake St. Clair.​

**************************************************​

John Engler, the Republican Governor of Michigan, was bewildered. He was sulking over the news that Sparrow Industries had declined to build their Manufacturing Headquarters in Detroit - a move that would have given new hope for Detroit, and Michigan as a whole. It was barely noon, and he was already into a second beer. The blinds in his office were shuttered so that very little light was coming into it. The only thing he could hear was the ticking of a grandfather clock that was in the corner of his office in the Michigan State Capitol. Second after second continued to pass by, and the governor was about to fall asleep, when there was a knock at his door. The copper doorknob turned, and someone walked in to his office.

"Governor..." said one of Engler's aides. Engler responded with an unimpressed grunt, "we tried reaching the President on Air Force One, but they said that he was unavailable. We declined to leave a message," he said.

Engler accepted that it wasn't destined for him to sleep that day, so he sat up, and took a sip of his now warm Miller Lite tall-boy. He checked his watch and then sighed at the time. "We've tried calling, faxing, everything... everything short of the emergency line, and they'd rip my eyes out if I used it for something like this. I don't know, do you have any ideas, Mark?" the governor asked.

Mark, who was a young man in hid mid-twenties, sat down from across the governor and offered him a hot cup of coffee to replace his beer. "Sarah actually had an idea, sir. She thinks that we should contact the Archbishop of Detroit..."

**************************************************
​

President Gore landed at Detroit's Wayne County Airport to much fanfare as supporters gathered outside to cheer for the President. Gore's motorcade, which had been flown in previously, was ready to take him downtown to meet with Mayor Matthews at city hall. The motorcade took I-94 and then I-75 before exiting onto West Fort Street which led them directly downtown. The motorcade was protected by a heavy police escort provided by the Detroit PD, Michigan State Police, and United States Secret Service. The President went over some things with his advisors, but he was largely occupied by looking out the window. He had only been to Detroit a handful of times, and none of them were memorable. He remembered stopping there on the campaign trail with former President Clinton, and also going there when he was a younger man. But he had never been to Detroit as a simple visitor or curious soul.​

The President's limousine stopped at the intersection of W Larned Street and Woodward Avenue, which was right beside City Hall and a plaza. The intersection, as well as the plaza, had been closed off to the public hours ago. Secret Service were out and about in both suits and plain clothes as they watched the crowds and kept a careful eye out. They had even gone as far as to enter some of the surrounding sky scrapers and set up counter-assault sniper teams that were ready to act on a moment's notice. Meanwhile, there were two dozen Secret Service agents on the ground with the President, virtually surrounding him but giving him just enough distance so that decent pictures could be taken for the press. Channels 2, 4, and 7 which were the local affiliates of FOX, NBC, and ABC were all there with cameras and reporters, as was CNN. The Secret Service made a final "look around" before the limousine door for the President was opened, and he stepped out to wave at crowds which had gathered that July morning to welcome him to to Detroit.​

The first thing to catch the President's eye was a massive bronze statue that was sitting, with it's back facing city hall, and its front overlooking the plaza before it. Inscribed in gold letters behind the statue were the following:​

---

​

"NOW THE LORD IS THAT SPIRIT​

AND WHERE THE SPIRIT OF THE​

LORD IS, THERE IS LIEBRTY."​

II CORINTHIANS 3:17​

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​

Duncan Nicholas, the President's Chief of Staff, stepped beside Gore and briefly said, "The Mayor is running two minutes later. The Secret Service says he's taking the elevator down now. He should be here in ninety seconds." Gore nodded and looked around. He could have walked up to some of the crowds that had gathered, but he felt somewhat uncomfortable being in such a new place. Instead he walked over to the massive statue and looked up at it. Gore's simple interest in observing a statue was like fodder for the still-photography press who snapped as many pictures as they could. Something the President had read about was that Detroit, despite its reputation, was filled with incredible examples of Art Deco design and architecture, and this was clearly a small sample of that.​

"Mister President!" said an overly excited, and somewhat apologetic, voice. Gore turned to see a black man who was three of four inches shorter than he was, approaching him with his hand out.​

"Mayor Matthews, how are you?" Al asked in return as he took hold of, and shook, the Mayor's hand.​

"I'm just fine sir - I'm sorry to keep you standing outside. We had a small issue that we were wrapping up. What don't we go inside?" he asked, almost starting to walk but stopping when he noticed that Gore didn't move.​

"Do you know what this statue stands for, or what it represents?" he asked.​

"Oh... it's called 'The Spirit of Detroit'," the Mayor said. There was a moment of awkward silence as Gore expected the Mayor to go on, but Mayor Matthews didn't know much more than that. Another man, who was also black, was standing behind the Mayor. He was nearly President Gore's height and had a chevron moustache.​

"The artist said that his interpretation for the statue came from the spirit of man that comes from God and the family..." said the calmer man behind the Mayor. President Gore offered his hand to him, and shook it as well.​

"I'm Jacob Crane - I'm the President of the City Council. Welcome to Detroit, Mister President," he said. The Mayor gripped his fists for a moment and then smiled at the two men, "Well, I'll give you a tour of City Hall and then we can set off for downtown. We have a lot to show you."​

President Gore, and his entourage of protective agents, walked alongside the Mayor and President of the City Council into City Hall. The President was given a tour and met all of the members of the city council, as well as the Chief of Police and the Chief of the city's Fire Department. To tour downtown, Mayor Matthews made a big deal of using the city's "People Mover" which was really just an elevated subway. Despite the small fortune it cost to keep the People Mover operational, the city government of Detroit and Mayor Matthews were big defenders of it. President Gore was given a big surprise when he realized that the this one-track system only moved in one direction, which meant that if someone wanted to travel from Circus Grand Park to the Broadway station (these two stations were located right next to each other on the line) that individual would need to ride the entire route since the People Mover only went counter-clockwise. This was obviously a rather noticeable disadvantage. President Gore literally had a front seat to this, as the Mayor insisted they first go see something on one side of downtown which wasn't far, but meant that they would have to ride the entire route of the people mover, when they probably could have walked there faster.​

At one point, the President asked, "Why doesn't the city build a second track so that you can have traffic blow in both directions?" the Mayor and some of the other VIPs that were allowed into the small train car looked at him as if he was wearing his shoe on his head. The President decided to drop this point, and instead enjoyed the pristine view he had of downtown. Gore asked about several buildings, which for the most part either the Mayor or someone else could tell him about. Some buildings, however, seemed to make everyone uncomfortable when they were mentioned. In particular, President Gore asked about the Book Tower, which was a 38 story tall skyscraper. The car entered into an awkward silence and the Mayor said, "It's... currently not occupied. But they're working on renovating it... Did I mention that we've having lobster tonight?" the Mayor said with a smile.​

The tour continued through the nicer parts of downtown. The President was shown little to none of the battered parts of the city, and was instead told that the State and the city were closely working together to fix the problems that the city had.​

"Detroit really is an incredible place to live," the Mayor said at some point, "our biggest problem, really, is a reputation problem. What the rest of the country says about us is overblown."​

The Mayor did his best to keep the President within the confines of downtown, and even took him to lunch at the Grand Trunk Pub on Woodward Avenue. The Mayor and President's presence meant that security in the pub was a bit overbearing, and no new patrons could enter their part of the pub while they were eating at the bar, but otherwise some members of the general public were able to watch the two leaders enjoy an afternoon beer and some fried fish for lunch. Mayor Matthews promised that dinner would be much more "formal." The rest of the day was spent walking in some other nice areas of downtown, as well as a tour from the Detroit Historical Society about public transportation and the history of the city. Later that afternoon, the President returned to his hotel to prepare to for dinner that evening.​

It was 6:00PM and Gore was now wearing a tuxedo. Duncan, the President's Chief of Staff, knocked on the door to the Presidential Suite in the Detroit Foundation Hotel. Gore opened the door and let Duncan, who was also in a tuxedo into the room.​

"This just arrived for you sir... It has a seal on it," Duncan said.​

Gore looked down to see the folded piece of paper that had a noble/Catholic looking wax seal stamped onto it. Gore broke the seal and unfolded the paper.​

"It appears to be the seal of the Archbishop of Detroit," Duncan said as the President read over the note.​

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​

Mr. President,​

There are issues in Detroit which you aren't going to be shown. If you want to help our city, and you want to see what needs to be done to fix it, then come to the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament tomorrow morning at 9AM. Don't tell the Mayor, and don't tell the press. Keep a low profile.​

Regards,​

A Friend​

---

 

[Odinson]

​

Plain-clothes Secret Service agents arrived at the Cathedral about thirty minutes before the President did. Instead of his official motorcade that could consist of up to fifty vehicles, three black SUVs took the President to The Most Blessed Sacrament and arrived there at at 9AM. Al stepped out onto the sidewalk next to the magnificent cathedral. He looked up at its stone edifice and stepped forward. He heard something crack beneath his shoe, like glass. He quickly moved his shoe aside and looked down at where he had stepped. There was a shattered glass syringe with a needle that appeared to have dried blood on it. Al frowned and took the time to brush what remained of the needle and glass over the curb and into the side of the street so that it at least wasn't on the sidewalk anymore. Duncan Nicholas, the President's Chief of Staff, stepped out of one of the SUVs with a small map of the city and his cell phone in his left hand. He flipped the phone closed and approached the President who was looking around.

"Not a lot of people out on Main Street," the President said skeptically. Woodword Avenue, which the cathedral was located on, went straight to downtown and was a major thoroughfare.
"Well, it is a Saturday morning," Duncan noted. They both looked around and didn't see anyone else walking on their side of the street at least for another block. One of the front doors of the cathedral was guarded by a Secret Service agent who was casually standing next to it.

A man wearing a black cassock and white collar stepped outside. The Secret Service agent briefly looked him over, and then remained standing in place. The wind picked up for a few seconds, blowing a chilly blast of air over everyone. The priest walked down the steps to greet Al.

"Mista' President," the priest said. He briefly bowed and then smiled, "I am Father Alazar, welcome to The Most Blessed Sacrament," he said in an Ethiopian accent. "Cardinal Collier is waiting inside, may I escort you?" he asked.
President Gore offered his hand to Father Alazar, who gladly unfolded his own and shook the President's hand. "Do you want me to come alone?" Gore asked.
"I think that would be best, Mista' President," Alazar said as the handshake ended. Gore nodded and asked Duncan to stay with the motorcade, and to have them park in the parking lot instead of on the side of the street so that they could keep the lower profile. The Secret Service, who had already done a walk-through of the inside of the Cathedral, kept a careful eye or direct guard of all of the entrances and exists.

Father Alazar opened one of the four large entry doors to the cathedral. President Gore followed him inside the narthex of the cathedral, and then into the nave. It wasn't hard to feel the presence of God inside such an impressive structure. He watched as Father Alazar dipped his fingers in the holy water next to the entrance into the nave and made the sign of the cross. They walked down the center isle, almost up to the alter, and turned right after the priest genuflected and made the sign of the cross again. There was no one else in the cathedral, but the priest still kept his voice down.

"How much time can you spare, Mista' President?" Alazar asked as they ascended up a few steps and walked past the alter. Al had been in Catholic churches before, but he'd never been behind the alter. He briefly turned around and looked to take in the majesty of the entire building.

"As long as I'm needed," Al said. Father Alazar was waiting in the back at one of the entrances next to the tabernacle, so the President followed him.
"I'm still not sure why exactly I am here, though," he said as he followed the priest. Before he could add anymore, they made a corner and into a small room that appeared to be some kind of chapel. A table, which looked like it didn't belong in the room and had been recently moved inside, was there. A handful of men and women were sitting around it. One of them he recognized.

"Mister Crane?" Al said as he walked in. He remembered meeting Jacob Crane, the President of the City Council, only yesterday. He was sitting at one of the heads of the table, while Cardinal Collier (who was also the Archbishop of Detroit) was sitting at the other head. Two members of the city council, one a white woman and another a black man, were sitting together, while the other side were two people the President had never met before. Everyone around the table quickly stood up at the site of the President.

Cardinal Collier left his spot and walked up to Al. "Mister President," the much older black man said. "Thank you so much for coming, I see that you received our letter," he said.

"What exactly is going on here, Your Eminence?" Al asked.
Father Alazar quickly got an extra chair and placed it to the right of Cardinal Collier's.

"Please take a seat... we will explain everything," the Cardinal said. Al unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat next to Collier. Everyone else sat down, except for Father Alazar who poured everyone a glass of water.

"Mister President," Jacob Crane said from across the table. "We're.... the shadow government of Detroit," he said. "Mayor Matthews is trying to hide some of the major problems we have in this city - we want you to know about them, we want you to help us fix them," he said. Jacob introduced everyone around the table, and revealed that they were from a diverse background of democrats and republicans, liberals and conservatives, businessmen and a man of the cloth.

"The city, and Wayne County, are corrupt to the core... Governor Engler is on our side," Jacob said, referencing to the Governor of Michigan. "But any time he tries to investigate corruption here, the Mayor and the city find a way to push him out."
Al suddenly felt a surge of guilt wash over him for ignoring the governor's phone call while he was en route to Detroit.

"I think we've already done enough talking, though. Cardinal Collier and I would like to show you what you haven't been allowed to see... Can you give us a ride?" Jacob asked.

**************************************************​

The Secret Service, who already didn't want to take the President to the cathedral, were entirely against the idea of driving him through the most dangerous parts of the city. Eventually, a compromise was met where a small portion of the President's motorcade, including the three iconic limousines that would normally carry the President and his most important advisors and staff, would take him, the Cardinal, Jacob, and his Chief of Staff along with many Secret Service agents on this small journey. They went through various parts of the city, most of which shocked President Gore. It was finally the last place, though, that would be etched into Al's mind.

"We can keep driving through here, but it doesn't change," the Cardinal said.
"What do you mean it doesn't change?" Al asked frustratingly, "There's no one in these houses. There's no one here, we haven't seen anyone for two blocks!" he said, struggling to look out of the small, tinted windows of the luxurious limousine.
"Mark, stop the car," he said to the Secret Service agent driving the car. The three limousines came to halt. Then, Al frustratingly moved to one of the doors and opened it himself, causing a dozen agents to rush out of the first limousine and make a perimeter. Cardinal Collier and Jacob Crane followed after the President, along with Duncan.

"This is Burbank, Mister President. If we cross Seven Mile just north of here, we'll be in Regent Park which is... a bit better," Jacob said, still trying to have some pride in his city.

​

A Secret Service agent walked up to the President and handed him a thick wool overcoat. A cool front was blowing over the city. It would only be a matter of time before temperatures were below freezing. Al stared over at two homes which had all of their windows broken, and were in the midst of a slow decay before his eyes. To his astonishment, it looked like this for as far as he could see in any direction. Al turned and looked the other way, and only saw the same thing.

"Where are all the people?" Al asked as he put on the coat and buttoned it closed.
"There really aren't any people here, sir. This part of the city is largely abandoned," Jacob said.
"There has to be someone," Al said. "I have to talk to someone here," he said as he stepped towards one of the dilapidated homes, to the angst of the agents.

"Mister President," said one of the senior agents. "We've been doing some scouting... I just heard over the radio that there's an occupied home about 10 blocks north of here, at the intersection of Mac Crary and Park Grove," the agent reported.

Al looked over at one of the dilapidated, rusting street signs and could see that they were on Mac Crary already.
"I think we're going to stretch our legs," Al said as he started walking north. The Cardinal, Jacob, and Duncan were close behind. One of the agents radioed it in, "Be advised, Phoenix is on foot, heading north on Mac Crary."

"HELLO!" Gore shouted into the ether. There was no response other than his own echo. Signs of recent human life were hard to come by. The streets didn't even look like they were normally driven on, as several of them were covered with leaves and even in some cases, an inch or two of dirt. Al only felt more demoralized as they walked by entire blocks of abandoned homes that had been overtaken with trees that were ten to twenty-five feet tall. The few pieces of evidence of recent human activity were old syringes, needles, and a few used condoms. At some point, it felt like they were just walking on a broken road in the wilderness.

"How much of this neighborhood is like this?" Al asked to the Cardinal as they passed a home that had burned down into mostly rubble. Only the chimney was still standing.
"I would say about forty blocks," the Cardinal replied.
"What? Forty blocks? And this is just one neighborhood?" he said in disbelief.

They continued to walk north. Long portions of their journey were quiet, with only the hum of the limousines engines and the flapping of the small American and presidential flags on the front of them making any noise. Eventually, they made it to the intersection of Mac Crary and Park Grove. Signs of human habitation were increasing. About one in every twenty-five homes had smoke or steam coming from the chimney, or a half-decent lawn, while the rest were visibly abandoned. A Secret Service agent was standing at the door of one of the homes, while a few others were standing on the sidewalk. Al walked up to them, with his colleagues in-tow.

"Sir," said one of the agents. "This is the home of Dontell and Amara Hampton. They're in their mid-fifties. Mister Hampton use to work for GE, and Amara is a homemaker. They've lived here since 1972," he said.
"Do they have any children?" Al asked as he started to take off his leather gloves.
"They..." said one of the female agents, "they had three. They um.. they all died," she said.
Al stopped and looked up. "What?"
"The first son, Tyrone, and their only daughter, Jessica, both died from overdoses. Their second son, James, was accidentally shot in a drive-by while he was driving home from college. That happened about six months ago," she said.
Al didn't know what to say, so the young agent continued talking, "They said that they would like to talk to you. They let us look inside... Sir they... they're very poor," she tried to say delicately. Al cleared his throat and handed her his gloves, "Thanks for the heads up," he said.

He walked up a few steps onto an old, squeaky wooden porch. Al tried to ring the doorbell, but it didn't work, so he knocked a few times. There was some scurrying inside. An older man, in his mid-to-late fifties as one of the agents had described, opened the door. He was wearing black trousers with a belt, a blue dress shirt, a very old yellow tie that he had tied much to short, and a black sport jacket with gold buttons which was a bit frayed on the left shoulder. He was bald, and of normal build except he wasn't very tall. Standing next to him was a woman who was probably only a bit younger than him, and was wearing a pink dress, white gloves, and a small pink hat. She was a bit overweight, but not much more than his own mother was. Both were smiling and looked nervous.

"Hello.. I'm Al Gore," he said. "I was told you wouldn't mind talking for a few minutes?" he asked. He returned the smile to the couple.
"Oh of course um.. Mister President," the woman said as she momentarily considered what she should call him. "Please come in out of that nasty cold. It's only gonna get worse," she said as they moved aside. Al wiped his shoes on the doormat outside, and then stepped in. The house surprisingly smelled rather fine, though it didn't look the absolute best. The small home probably only had a handful of rooms. The entrance brought them into the living room, which had old wallpaper on the walls, some of which was peeling in the corners. Al wasn't positive, but it looked like someone had tried repairing some of it with Scotch tape.

"I'm Dontell, Dontell Hampton.," the old man said as he offered his hand to Al, who shook it without hesitation. Dontell shook it probably a bit longer than was socially acceptable, but Al was used to that.
"This is my wife, Amara," he said as he gestured to Misses Hampton.
"It's- it's nice to meet you, Mister Gore. Me and Dontell both voted for you and Bill," she said.
Al shook her hand as well and said, "Oh good, I was worried you two might be Republicans," he joked in a friendly tone of voice.
"Oh no sir," Dontell said. "I've been a union-man since I turned eighteen."

"Would you like to sit?" Dontell asked. He gestured to their old sofa, which had two relatively comfortable-looking chairs on either side.
"I'd be happy to," Al said. He took a seat in one of the chairs.
Dontell elbowed his wife and looked at the entrance to the kitchen. She perked up and quickly walked into it. Seconds after the President and Dontell sat down, she came out with a tarnished silver platter that was undoubtedly a family heirloom. On top of the bowl was a platter, and a few glasses.

"This is all we have... I really need to go to the store," she said nervously as she set down the platter on the coffee table that was in front of all of them. Inside the bowl were French fries. She had poured a glass of water for her husband and herself. For Al, she cracked open a can of Pepsi and nervously poured it into the ice-filled glass.

"Oh, thank you, I love French fries," Al said, trying to be polite as he leaned forward, grabbed a couple, and crunched down on them. They were hot - but tasted a bit freezer burnt. Though, he wasn't expecting a four-course meal like he could get at the White House. He took a sip of the Pepsi and leaned against one of the chair's arm rests.

"I know it's rude of me to stop by like this, especially when we haven't met," he said.
"Oh no, of course not," Amara said as she shook her head.
"Mayor Matthews, your mayor," Al said, "has been showing me around the city... But he didn't show me the parts of Detroit like this."
"That's because that man a crook," Dontell said freely. Amara elbowed her husband, who stopped talking.

"No, please. I want to know what you think of him. I want to know what you think is wrong with the city," Al said. Dontell took a sip of his water, so Al took the opportunity to take another French fry.
"He's crooked. Everyone says he's taking money for himself. He don't even live in Detroit - he live in Grosse Pointe with the white folks.." he said as Gore swallowed his French fry. "I mean.. nothing wrong with white folks, just... it says something that he doesn't even live with the rest of us," he said.
"That man drives a Mercedes," Amara said in disgust.
"A Mercedes?" Al asked, implying he didn't know what the problem was.
"This is Detroit Mister Gore! Mercedes is that French or.. British whatever. We make Fords and Chevys here - Dontell worked for Ford his whole life," she said.

"Someone broke into our house two weeks ago," Dontell said. "We called police. It took them four hours to show up, on a Sunday! Those fools robbed us on a Sunday while we were at church - they took our TV. The police man shows up, and tells us that there nothin' he can do. I've lived here over twenty years - that's the first time in five years I've seen the police on this street. It only got worse under Matthews, and that crook they have as the police chief. I forget his name. All they do is take. The roads are broke, the street lights are broke, the hobos are doin' drugs and breaking into old homes. People gettin' robbed, kids not goin' to school. What that Matthews man done for us? He made things worse. No one lives south of us. Up the street they have the Jeffersons, the Johnsons, and the Browns. But I think the Browns are going to move soon - their son got a job in Chicago," he said.

"I was told that you lost your son recently," Al said. "I'm really sorry for your loss," he said sincerely.
"Michael was a good boy," Amara said. "He didn't do no drugs, he didn't drink. He was going to school, he was going to be an engineer," she said. Dontell just looked down and didn't say anything.
"Did the police catch.. the perpetrators?" Al asked.
"All the police do is say they can't do nothin'," Dontell said. "My boy was killed by them thugs downtown. The mayor don't care about them, he lets them do whatever they want. You should fire that man," Dontell said.

"From what I've been able to see," Al said after taking another sip of his Pepsi, "things are pretty bad here. What would be the most important things to fix?" Al asked.
"The city is full of crooks," Dontell said, in reference to the city government. "They need to go. And they need to get people off drugs, and round up those gangs and... do somethin with them," he said, restraining himself.
"The roads are bad," Amara continued, "the schools are bad, especially the public schools. The buses don't always run. People are gettin' robbed all the time. No one wants to open a store or restaurant here because they'll just get robbed and shot. I don't know what they can do - I don't know how you can fix the city, Mister Gore. Too much is wrong," she said.

"If you don't mind me asking... why do you stay here if it's so bad?" Al asked.
"Where are we suppose to go?" Dontell asked.

**************************************************​

Al and the others kept walking north. It was getting close to five P.M. now, and everyone was tired. The President was unusually quiet. Duncan would see him watch his surroundings, ponder them, and then quietly stare and contemplate something as they kept walking.

"Duncan," the President finally said. "We were eating lobster last night, and the best that man and woman could offer me were frozen French fries and a Pepsi."
"Yes sir," was all Duncan added. It didn't seem like Al would want him to say anything else.

The group approached a street that, instead of abandoned homes, had mostly abandoned businesses. One of them had been converted into a food pantry, and there was a line with about fifty people in it. Some of them looked homeless, while others looked like normal people. It was getting dark, and dark grey clouds had gathered overhead. Small white flakes of snow were starting to fall.

The Secret Service walked ahead of the President as they approached the intersection that had the food pantry. The agents blocked off the roads, though there wasn't any vehicular traffic to manage. Al went to the back of the line and started introducing himself to those who looked even mildly interested in saying hello.

Almost all of the people, even most of the homeless, knew who he was. Three agents stayed with the President at all times while he talked with the people and moved up along the line. Some of them just wanted to shake his hands while others asked what he was doing there, and a couple even asked for spare change. Al slipped a young man that was missing one of his front teeth a twenty-dollar-bill and kept moving. At some point, they all heard a commotion at the front of the line - a number of people sounded very dissatisfied. A few of the people who volunteered inside had come out to see what was going on, while one of the managers came out to announce that they had already run out of food. While he tried to calm people down, he was shocked to see the President of the United States talking to what appeared to be two druggies and a homeless guy with a little dog.

Al made eye contact with the manager, who then felt obligated to walk over.
"What's going on here, why isn't the line moving?" Al asked.
"Um, hello Mister President. We've run out of food for the evening, we're going to have to close down until tomorrow," he said. Everyone within earshot groaned and complained as the manager tried to calm them down.

"No, no you're not. Do you have enough room for all these people in there?" he asked.
"Yes sir, but like I said we're out of food," the manager responded.
"I'll get you some food," he said. "But it's snowing, and it's probably twenty degrees right now," he said. "Let these folks in and you and I can talk," he said.

The manager told his staff to usher everyone in. Duncan, Jacob, and the Cardinal eventually came inside as well. Meanwhile, Al had the manager order twenty-five large pizzas from the Pizzahut down the road. Al gave $500 to Duncan and told him to pay the delivery boy when he got there, and to let him keep the rest as a tip. President Gore, the others that came with him, as well as a few other members of his senior staff spent the evening handing out pizza to everyone that had been in the line while they were able to enjoy a hot meal in the comfort of the old building. Al talked to as many as he could, regardless of their condition or what they looked like. At 7 P.M. he told Duncan that he wanted to go back to the hotel, and to tell all the networks that he was going to hold a press conference at 7:45.

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Gathered in one of the ball rooms of the hotel were news reporters from across the country - from Detroit to Los Angeles, and New Orleans to New York. The President's absence for most of Saturday wasn't uncommon, but the press pool was especially curious as to where he had been since they are almost always informed of his whereabouts. A small stage had been built along with a podium for him, with the seal of the Office of the President on it. A few dozen reporters and a number of cameramen and photojournalists were waiting as news anchors broke into regularly scheduled broadcasts. Local affiliates in Detroit were among the first to switch over their programming. The President's press secretary gave a short introduction and, when she received a nod from Duncan, introduced Al Gore.

"Here now, the President of the United States," she said. All of the reporters stood up as his press secretary moved aside. Al walked down one of the aisles as a few anxious reporters tried to ask him questions, but he silently pressed on and got up to the podium.

"My fellow citizens," he said as he looked out to the journalists and to the cameras.
"I spent most of today in the lesser-visited parts of Detroit. I went to Brightmoor, Ravendale, Goldberg, Westwood Park, and Burbank. What I saw today was... an American travesty. There were crumbling cathedrals, hundreds of burnt homes, and thousands more that were empty. I met people that lived without electricity and others that said they didn't trust the city's water. I ate dinner with a man who use to cook in a kitchen, and now he lives in his car. The situation is dire here, much more dire than Mayor Matthews was leading me to believe yesterday.

"Entire neighborhoods have been abandoned, some of which have burned down from arson because the fire department is spread thin, and the police department is underfunded and understaffed. The condition this city is in is unacceptable. Part of it is due to changes in the economy over the decades. But some of it, a strong portion of it, is due to corruption. This evening I've spoken with the Attorney General and the U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of Michigan - thirty-seven charges of embezzlement have been filed against the Mayor alone, and three other members of the city council have been arrested on similar charges. I have also spoken with the Governor of Michigan, John Engler. The State will be assisting the Justice Department in conducting a thorough investigation into Detroit and Wayne County's finances. The State of Michigan will be using its emergency powers to run city services for the next month until a new election can be held for Mayor and members of the city council... I would like to thank the City Council President, Jacob Cane, for leading the crusade to unveil this corruption.

"It's now time to move forward. Minutes ago, I informed Speaker Bush and Senator Sinclair that I will be calling the House and Senate into emergency session. The Federal government must act immediately to help the people of Detroit. I have been told there's similar issues in other cities across America from New York to New Orleans. Conditions like I have seen today are not acceptable in a first-world country, and the world's greatest superpower. To the people of Detroit I have this to say... the system has failed you - we have failed you. There are no words I can say to fix what I saw tonight, what needs to happen now, is action... Any questions?"

The members of the press jumped from their seats and raised their hands like first graders as they tried to get the President's attention. Al pointed to a woman in the second row. "Samantha Anderson, WXYZ Channel 7; Mister President, it was recently announced that Sparrow Industries would not be building a major manufacturing center here in Detroit. That project was expected to bring thousands of jobs to the city. Is there anything that can be done?" she asked.

"Sparrow Industries will come to find that not coming to Detroit was the biggest mistake they made this decade - Detroit has a bright future ahead of it, this city is an arsenal of democracy, and will be a manufacturing mecca again," he said.

"Mister President," another reporter asked, "how is the federal government going to help the city?"

"We have to take down these abandoned buildings that can't be salvaged, we have to bring jobs back to the city, and we have to help folks here get off drugs. We can, and will, help the city and state accomplish those goals," he said.

The President took another fifteen minutes of questions before stepping down and allowing his press secretary to wrap up the conference. That night the Mayor and several dozen members of the city government were arrested for embezzlement and corruption charges. Jacob Cane had evidence for several of these charges, while many of the other arrests came from the councilmen ratting out other members of the government, who did so to others. By midnight, over one-hundred public officials were arrested and charged. The State government had to send in temporary managers to ensure that the city's essential services would keep operating.

President Gore flew back to Washington that night and assembled his cabinet so that they could begin looking into what measures they could take now, and what they wanted congress to act on. In time, $3-billion would be obtained from the Global Assembly to help some of the worst-off places in America. That money would turn out to be a God-send for millions of Americans.

 

[Odinson]

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President Gore signed his name at the bottom of a letter he was writing and looked it over. He quietly read it back to himself and then folded it into threes. Next, he wrote out a check for $15,000 and signed that as well. He put the folded check inside of the letter, and enclosed that within an envelope. He wrote down who the envelope was addressed to, as well as his return address at the White House. Just after he carefully placed a stamp at the upper right-hand corner, he heard a knock on the entrance to the Oval Office.

"Come in," he said as he set down the envelope and looked at the door. Kasper Hartleben, the Postmaster General of the United States, stepped into the Oval Office. The tall man, who was wearing a dark grey suit, stopped at the entryway and looked around.

"I haven't been here since you took office, Mister President," he said.
"Well, the carpet hasn't changed," he said as he stood up, envelope in-hand.

Kasper walked up to the President's desk. Al handed the envelope to him and then put his hands in his pockets as the Postmaster General read the person and address.

"Mister and Misses Dontell Hampton in Detroit, Michigan. Are they friend's of yours, Mister President?" Kasper asked.
"I met the Hamptons a couple of days ago. I think they could use a new TV, and some groceries. Can you make sure that'll get to them safely? There's a check in there," he said.
"Mister President, if there's postage, the United States Postal Service will get it to your destination. Is this why you wanted to see me?" he asked.
"Yeah," Gore said as he offered his hand and shook Kasper's. "Thank you for stopping by. I'll see you next week for lunch," the President said.

The Postmaster General shook the President's hand back and put the envelope into the breast pocket of his jacket. He departed back to his office in the District. Minutes after Kasper left, an older man with a grey suit and dark blue tie walked into the room. On his belt was a bronze badge with a lighthouse engraved into it. His weapon holster was empty.

"Mister President," the man said as he stood at attention.
"Chief, please come in. I have a mission for you," he said. The man walked in, shook the President's hand, and took a seat at one of the chairs next to the President's desk. The man was Arnold Hopkins, the Chief of Investigations for the United States Lighthouse Service.

"I've called the House and Senate back into session so that we can finally improve the situation in Detroit. I tried to get in touch with Senator Sinclair, but he's home in Maine. I'm telling you this, because he's actually at a lighthouse that he bought."

The President looked down at a scrap of paper that he wrote the name on, "'Dyce Head Light?'" Gore said, wondering if the Chief knew of it.
"Yes sir, that's a famous lighthouse in Maine," Arnold said. He took out a small notepad and wrote down the name, as well as the name of Senator Benjamin Sinclair, who he had seen on the news before.

"Maine is in the middle of a blizzard right now, and it probably wont let up for a few days. The roads up there are all shot - I've spoken with the Commandant of the Coast Guard, and he'll give your people whatever resources they need to get him," he said. Al opened a drawer in his desk and took out a folded piece of thick paper that was sealed with a wax seal of the President.

"This is a formal, written-notice to Senator Sinclair. Make sure that it gets into his hands, and his hands only. There is sensitive information in this letter," he said, before he handed it over to Chief Hopkins.

"I'll go back to headquarters and we'll get right on this - I'll send my best men, Mister President," he said.