Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Part 6

People in black ties and shiny black dresses moved back and forth between the hors d’oeuvres and the bar. They piled food on their plates and ate the food in line holding an empty cup. Upon filling their cup, they would return to the tiny portions elegantly arranged and drink from the cup en route. On each pass, people would form groups of two or three, make polite pleasantness and smile, then break apart once more. Their cups would normally be empty upon arrival at the food table to repopulate then-empty plates. Therefore, the process of regulating one input would leave the other lacking, and the negative feedback loop would restart again.

Some people got stuck in side loops. For instance, one poor fellow couldn’t seem to leave the bar. He would fill his glass, and, on exiting the bar area, he would invariably run into someone who had just joined the queue. They would talk for only a minute or two, and he would drink while they talked. At the end of the conversation, he would reach the bar again, holding an empty glass.

They all moved back and forth like automatons hooked up to gears.

When it was time to take their seats, table number written on their nametags, they were already quite full and happily buzzed. But the wait staff was so polite and so full of smiles, it would have been rude not to place an order. This was the kind of fundraising event Taylor Coakley hosted.

The wait staff delivered the orders to the catering staff, who were operating for the moment out of the hotel kitchen. Garrett and Derek, of Bon Apptetit Catering, doled out too-dry chicken on each plate already decorated with a dash of green. They took pleasure in making the cheap food look rich, making the donors feel like attending the event was money well spent.

Although of course no one was paying for the food. When someone paid for a plate at one of these events, they were paying for a seat at the table. The problems with the tables at this event, however, was that they only seated six. And a seat at the only table that mattered came with a higher pricetag. So it came to be that at Taylor Coakley’s table there were five bankers and CEOs, eating chicken that nobody noticed was too-dry because of their forced fixation on its presentation.

As was the case with Taylor’s presentation – people only briefly focused on the substance of the speech because of how well it was packaged. That is, with fancy clothes and plentiful food and drink. After a too-short introduction and an overly-excessive thanks for the donors’ generosity, etc., Taylor approached the only moment of substance in his fifteen minute address:

“Something must be done. But the solution is not free money for everybody. People are lazy. People would stop contributing to society. Free money for everybody would mean less incentive to work, to create, to be productive. Free money for everybody and everyone drowns in society’s rot.

Free money for everybody would also be bad for the individual. As Assistant to the District Attorney, I’ve seen the pattern time and again: when people’s needs are provided for, they turn to the normal vices. I’ve seen welfare checks spent on all of the vices. When you don’t need to work for what you have, it’s easy to become enraptured with the deadly sins: Greed, gluttony, lust, and sloth. These are not just social ills, they’re moral ills. People will fall into a moral cesspool if universal income passes.

We all need work to motivate us, to keep us going. Giving people money doesn’t make them free, it corrupts them. Free money for everybody means vice and misdirection, stumbling and stagnation.

The answer, my friends, is raising the minimum wage. That way people will still be motivated to work. Raising the minimum wage will encourage labor, and, in turn, encourage spending as well, which will keep more people employed. This way America will not fall behind. This way, we’ll move America forward.”

Taylor finished his speech with more rhetorical flourish than message, took his seat, and continued revelling in the stories and conversation of his company, savoring every moment like a bite of savory chicken.

...

Facing a sea of unfamiliar faces, Jack Mitchell’s features were thankfully hidden as plain facade against the blank white background.

“Your future Senator could not be here today, I’m afraid. He was pulled away for an emergency meeting. This event will surely be rescheduled, and you’ll be notified as to when.” He raised his arm out, palm down, and the crowd grew silent.

“Today, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. I’m Jack, the campaign’s communications director.” He did not resent Stephan for asking him to speak today, but he would have preferred some more warning. He had written Stephan’s speech for the day’s event, but always more skilled with writing than with speaking, Jack would have liked to stick to his crutch from his days as a champion college debater: listening to a recording of himself giving the speech for days prior to the engagement. Words on repeat have a tendency to sink below surface-level memorization and allow for greater mastery and flow.

Red and white, but mostly blue, banners and streamers were hung through the air above the people hanging onto all of Jack’ words. A poster with a picture of Stephan that had been drenched in sky blue ink proclaimed: “The right choice for the drought.”

He performed well. After getting warmed up, he proved to be an excellent public speaker even when the exact words had not been bounced around his head for days prior to first opening his mouth onstage. All the same, people trickled out of the packed room throughout, disappointed that they didn’t get to see the “anybody” candidate in action.

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Want to keep reading? Here's Part 7!