Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Part 7

Inside the weighty box attached to strings, Stephan watched the walls to distract himself from the tremendous optimism bubbling upwards, inside, from underneath. The upward elevator’s shiny metal reflected his disorganized shapes: Puffy spheres, a pyramidal oblong with two slits, and some lines and circles. He only recognized them as belonging to him because of the oft-unrecognized spatial/boundary modality of proprioception, which alerted him to the extent of his expanse, where he ended and the world began. That, and the shapes responded to his will.

The reflection stayed while background canvas slid out from behind it, until there was none left and the walls split open. Stephan had arrived a full twenty minutes early for the meeting he was asked to miss his rally for. He took a seat in the overly-lit waiting room and excitedly decided not to think about what the future would hold, lest he get ahead of himself. Instead, he flipped through a waiting room magazine, past the seasonal recipes and celebrity gossip, until he found the first article that interested him, about genealogy and ancestry. A family tree buff discovered that he was distantly related to presidents and kings.

Suddenly, a tall woman with short blonde hair stood over him, blocking the bright fluorescence and casting a shadow over Stephan’s magazine. When the shadow lingered, he got the sense that she was there for him. This confused him. The woman he was here to meet had brown hair, not blonde, although perhaps this woman shared the brunette’s pointed nose, and the hair was approximately the right length and texture. He had met this woman before. Or, maybe, he hadn’t.

“Laura?” he guessed, the name always more salient than the face. And when she reacted more positively than ambiguously, he continued, “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

She reciprocated his pleasantries and led him down the hall while he rapidly thanked her with much energy, saying the party’s endorsement came early but was welcome, that this all but guaranteed his primary win over Taylor, and that he could focus his efforts now on the general.
She was silent, until they reached what appeared to be a very heavy door with two men in dark suits standing guard.

“I think you’re mistaken, Stephan. The party’s not giving you its endorsement. This is a very different kind of meeting, the nature of which we’d like to keep between us. So, I hope you don’t mind the formalities.” She gestured to the men as she spoke, and they immediately took his cellphone and began to wave a metal wand over him with great care. Stephan didn’t know what would be so private they’d need to scan him for bugs.

When the men nodded to her, Laura opened the door and led Stephan to a long conference table, where they joined two unfamiliar faces, who, after seeing his familiar expression of nonrecognition, politely re-introduced themselves as David Silverman and Debbie Matterson-Feltz. Stephan immediately recognized the names.

“What is going on?” Stephan asked.

When David told him that they just wanted to talk, Stephan was not reassured.

“You will win the primary. It’s only four weeks away, and you’re polling very well. ” Laura said, releasing a growing bag of air from somewhere in Stephan’s chest. “But you will lose in the general, because you don’t have a political face and Ro does.”

She proceeded to explain further: People make voting decisions largely as a result of subconscious signals and impulses. And people are a lot more likely to vote for someone with a masculine face, especially in times of crisis.

“You have the opportunity to do something to change this outcome. And it’s important to keep in mind that you’ve done nothing wrong.” David stated gently.

Debbie interjected, “You need to drop out and endorse Taylor. Taylor has a political face. Taylor is the party’s best chance in November. That’s the best way to prevent Ro from winning.”

Open-mouthed, Stephan yearned to see his reflection. Silence eluded everyone.

“Walk me through this again. I don’t quite follow. My numbers are winning – I’ll probably win in the primary. Why should I drop out while I’m on top?”

“The polls right now are misleading, because they include only the primary’s voting base, which is very politically active,” Laura explained. “These are the people least likely to be influenced by things like the shape of a candidate’s face. These are the people who actually read your platform.”

“So you’re saying the people who know best like me more than the guy you want me to endorse.” Stephan’s hand touched his forehead, and his eyes squinted. “After I drop out?”

“Right, that’s correct. Because if you beat Taylor in the primary, you’ll face Ro in the general. And Ro has a political face. Since Taylor has a political face, that race would come down to their policies. And we’d rather see one of our party in office than Ro’s, don’t you agree? Water levels where they are and all.”

“You want me to drop out and endorse somebody else? Because of the shape of my face?”

“This is a close and important race, especially given the water crisis. We’re doing a lot of new research this cycle, including on the psychology of political faces and whether or not it would have an influence on these voters this election. And our research shows that it would. I’m sorry, Stephan, but we can’t take any chances. You can run again, and you should run again. But for a different position at a different time.”

Stephan slumped over as though he had just begun to see the cracks in several years’ worth of hard work. Suddenly, he looked up. “Show me the evidence. The studies, I want them. I want to see the same numbers you saw when you made this decision.”

Laura pulled out a sheet of paper with caricatured faces of all three candidates about which the pair had been speaking. Everyone else in the room recognized the first figure with a defined jaw, high cheekbones, and a broad forehead, as Taylor Coakley. They saw Ro Singh’s small eyes, extended forehead ridge, and hard chin. Stephan only recognized the third figure, and he only recognized himself because the caricature included his excessive weight and multiple chins. He instinctively reached up to his large, babyish eyes. The hand lingered on the candidate’s wide nose as it passed the familiar soft puffy cheeks on its way to the round jaw.

She pulled out graphs, the dependent axis on both labeled ‘Likelihood of Voting’ and the independent axis demarcating different bars under the cold label: Candidates A, B, and C. The bar above the rightmost letter was shortest; the other two were about equal.

“And this graph shows what happened when people were reminded of the drought, which is sure to be the most salient issue this election.”

Stephan noticed Candidate C’s numbers dip even lower. The lucky candidates’ numbers rose equally, splitting what was stolen from the third.

“The people we polled are the likely voters in the general and not the primary. They make quick gut decisions, and they’d vote for either Ro or Taylor above you. If it was between Ro and you in the general, you’d lose.” Debbie smiled sweetly. “And we need either you or Taylor in office, and it looks like it’ll be Taylor.”

“I understand what you’re telling me, but I want to keep trying. I think I can sell my policies, which you admitted were the best, despite my face. Give me more time. Just give me more time.”

“We can’t do that. Look, just between us, I wish we didn’t need to use the ‘political face’ strategy this election because of its effect on you. Trust me, Stephan, I’d give you a chance if I could. You’re my favorite of the three. But this comes from the top. We need you to drop out and endorse Coakley.”
He made eye contact with David, and he recognized an evil stare that he knew all too well from when certain whites looked down on people of color. As if he were an inferior person.

“You expect me to just do this willingly? This is just another case of a white man getting the front seat and pushing us to the back. Hell, even Ro is Indian!”

“He’s Pakistani, Stephan. You’re missing the point. This isn’t about race at all. This is about doing the best thing for the state, and that means doing everything we can to get one of us in office. Do you agree?”

Someone else jumped in. “You saw the data. Those studies were all race-blind. It was about the shape of someone’s face! All three faces had the same neutral skin tone.”

“I get it. But why do I need to take your advice? What’s stopping me from continuing the campaign?” Stephan’s arms were crossed, lips pressed; his fingers tapped his elbow.

Laura was the forceful one now. “If you continue. Let’s say, if you’re not willing to help the party and the people of the state by helping the party, we’ll have to force you out of the race. Whether you decide to endorse Coakley or not is up to you, but you don’t get a choice in quitting the race.”

For the first time in several minutes, Stephan straightened his neck fully. “You’re bluffing. And what’s stopping me from going to every newspaper about this? The party blackmailing a candidate, they’d love that.” 

“Don’t test us. We will make sure you drop out of the race.”

“And sure, you can go to the papers. You have no proof, we made sure of that. I’m betting the media would spin it as you trying to shift blame from yourself if you lose. Start a conspiracy theory to say it was rigged. Nobody will believe you.”

“And it’s not that we don’t want you in office, Stephan, it’s just that the timing isn’t right. The stakes are too high with this one. We can’t take any chances. If you play nice, we’ll set you up nicely for the governor’s race when White’s out.”

“You will hold no more rallies. You will hold no more events. You will hold exactly one more press conference, in which you announce your intent to withdraw and endorse Taylor. Do all of this with no fuss, and we will not tarnish your reputation. We will set you up very nicely for your next race.”

He stood up abruptly and headed for the door. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving.”

---------------------------------

Want to keep reading? Here's Part 8!