Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

that it was never proper to subject the President of the United States to

unnecessary risk of assassination. . . and that with his new car, fitted for his

wheelchair, he still went to the Pentagon twice a week. “I’m old, I admit; I was

born in 1900. But I’m not dead and I’m quite able to report to my Commander in

Chief. And we both know that threats have been made.”

The President won the next argument. On b,eing wheeled in the Admiral

started to get out of his chair. “Do please sit down!”

The old man continued to try to rise, leaning on the arm of his nurse. The

President said quickly, “That was expressed as a request but was an order. Sit

down.”

The Admiral promptly sat back down, caught his breath and said formally,

“Ma’am, I report-with great pleasure!-to the President of the United States.”

“Thank you for coming, sir. In view of our respective ages . . . and your

health, I felt that it was a time to dispense with protocol. But you are right;

there are indeed a flood of threats, many more than get into the news. I don’t

intend to be a target.. – at least until we have a new Vice President sworn in.”

“Never be a target, Madam. You would be mourned by everyone, both parties.

Uh, if I may say so, you are even more beautiful in person than you are on the

screen.”

“Not mourned by everyone, I’m certain, or I would not nave to be cautious

about assassination. As for that other, I’m not beautiful and you know it. I know

what

I have. I project. But it’s not physical beauty. It’s something that a pro-a

professionally competent actress-does with her whole being. Her voice, her

expression, her hands, her body. A gestalt, with regular features the least

important factor. Or not present, as with me.”

The President smiled, got up and went around the big desk, leaned over the

Admiral, kissed his forehead. “But you are an old dear to have said it.”

He cleared his throat, noisily. “Ma’am, what is your opinion in the matter

against that of millions of men?”

“We’ve dropped that subject. Now to work! Admiral, why is it that there has

been so much difficulty with nuclear power plants ashore but never any trouble with

your nuclear submarines?”

The President slapped her desk, glared at the leader of the delegation.

“Stop that! Han’kerchief head, you’ve come to the wrong church. In this office there

are no Blacks-or Blues, Whites, Greens, or Yellows- just Americans. Besides that,

you claim to be a Black representing Blacks. Hmmph! That’s a phony claim if I ever-”

“I resent that, Mrs. Ni-”

“Pipe down! ‘Madam President,’ if you please. And one does not interrupt the

President. I said your claim was phony. It is. I’m at least three shades darker than

you are.. . yet I’m smooth brown, not black.” She looked around. “I don’t see a real

sooty black in your whole delegation. Mmm, I see just one darker than I am. Mr.

Green, isn’t it? That is your name?”

“Yes, Madam President. From Brooklyn.”

“Any white blood, Mr. Green? Perhaps I should say ‘Any Caucasian ancestry?'”

“Possibly. But none that I know of, Ma’am.”

“We’re all in that boat – . . including all whites. A person who claims to

be absolutely certain of his ancestry more than three generations back is accepting

the short end of a bet. But since you are from Brooklyn, you can help me pass a

word. An important word, one that I’ll be emphasizing on the networks tonight but

I’ll need help from a lot of people to let all the people know that I mean it. A

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Black who gets elected from Brooklyn has lots of Jewish friends, people who trust

him.

“That’s right, Madam President.”

“Listen to my talk tonight, then pass it on in your own words. This nation

has split itself into at least a hundred splinter groups, pressure groups, each

trying for a bigger bite of the pie. That’s got to stop!-before it kills us. No more

Black Americans. No more Japanese Americans. Israel is not our country and neither