Smartystan

A hand outstretched. Dr. Strong shook it. “Mr. President,” said.

“Jesus! I know you’re kidding, now,” President Glenn Goshen replied.

“I am!” The two old friends laughed and sat.

“How does it feel to be president of a country in a country?”

Goshen looked suddenly solemn. They sat in the executive room on the eightieth floor of the Presidential Skyscraper in what was Wilmington, Delaware. It became a refuge for them, a form of respite. Goshen rubbed his hands together which looked like sand or birchwood.

“It’s great here. It's getting better day by day.”

“As you know, there were some hiccups in the grand opening. That was to be expected, though,” Dr. Strong admitted.

“Yes, of course. That’s going into tonight's State of the New Nation speech. Don’t tell anyone.”

We at least had no reports of casualties or fatalities,” Dr. Strong pointed out.

Goshen shook his head yes and just put his fingertips together as if to pray, but showed no other indication of such an action. He sort of rocked for a moment envisioning what carnage had been prevented. Goshen motioned for some coffee for Dr. Strong. The economist waved, indicating he wanted none. The president brought one leg to the other and sipped coffee, black.

“We are very fortunate. They’re hailing you a savior for aiding that young couple with a child.”

“It had to be done, so I did it. It's as simple as that. If I didn’t do it, there would be severely limited time spent with a mirror and definite curtailed nights of sleep. I did it for me.”

“Congress wants to confer a medal for you. The first recipient of the Smartystan Individual Achievement Laurel. I’m just calling them the Smartys.”

Both men laugh. It is a hearty laugh that sends levity through the air once more. “Tell me you’re bringing Penelope to the ceremony this summer,” Goshen’s voice lifted like a child asking for a new bicycle. “Of course, I’d keep her away but she’d be too adept and devise an algorithm to prevent me from begging her to not attend the event with me.” Goshen grinned. “Ava is just waiting to see you and the boys.”

“They’re ready to see the rest of the first First Family, too.”

Goshen set down his coffee.

“Let’s talk about it, Covey.”

“Alright.”

“I was elected in a landslide by the people and I secured this land. All we have to do is live here. But what does that entail? Most of the people living here have ideas for this place.”

“I know.”

“Well, we need to air out the discrepancies.”

“Discrepancies?!” Dr. Strong’s voice rose and his face crinkled.

“Yes. There are men and women who wish to do us harm and we’ve got people that just want to make the next chip to put in a processor. I’m tasked with annihilating anyone who even shows an inkling of a threat the full might of our military. These are just words, they are to be brought into reality.

“Yes, we must have a robust––”

“I’m talking about completely crushing any and all attackers and destroying their spirit to make war, Covey.”

‘Absolutely, Mr. President.”

“This experiment deserves the control and that is our selfish, competent and capable collection of men and women in uniform.”

“Yes.”

“I know you know numbers. You knew them back and before the Academy.”

“They’d strip me of my doctorate if I didn’t know them.”

“So, that’s why I need you in my cabinet. You’ll be afforded a hefty salary, more than the one they were giving you back at New Sweden. You’ll be given full rights and privileges.”

“I proudly decline, sir.”

“What?” President Goshen looked as if sand clouds formed and rained down grainy precipitation.

“But you want money, hell, you’re an economist.”

“I’m fully aware.”

“So why not take the position?” Goshen asked.

Dr. Strong sighed. “Glen, it’s definitely nothing personal. It’s just that I don’t want to be a government official. The private sector treats me so well that I don’t need to wonder what I’m going to say about the state of fiscal policies for the country or have concerns for the monetary policy.”

“But you know that the tax revenue is for the cops, judges, and warriors….”

Goshen reminded his friend.

“No, the answer is no, Mr. President. I’ve got it in my mind to write more books and continue to teach when I can.” Somehow, Goshen didn’t look dismayed. Actually, a sense of relief washed over his face.

“Okay, okay. I’m removing my gloves and heading back to my corner.”

Dr. Strong smiled broadly. “I will, however, be happy to see you gear up for reelection. Word is that the six opposing sides are already searching for a candidate even more laissez-faire than you.”

Goshen chuckled. “Let me get through this first one. I’ll be more than ready to take on the next foe when that season comes.”

“That’s right. I will ensure that you stay in this executive suite. Hell, Delaseer will work for the whole campaign like we did to get you here.” Goshen looked down at his cognac Oxford footwear. He peered back up and straightened his tie. He stood up. Dr. Strong shot to his feet. “This is what true free markets are about. I’m glad Delaware was converted to a country. I’m glad we’re finally about to not only embrace but enjoy liberties never realized before.”

Two burley men in black suits had been at the door and window the entire time. “Carl, Maxey, could you give us a moment?” The two men shot glances at each other. Then….”Yes, sir.”

The room belonged to the war buddies. “You know this is like when we were in the sandbox and the mountaintops,” Goshen mentioned quietly, some sadness creeped into his words.

“Yes, we were fresh out of the Academy. Now look at us….I’m responsible for building the rest of an entire country and you’re Commander in Chief. Just look at what you can do?”

“It’ll be a shame you won’t be along for the ride but I’m always leave the door open for you,”

“That door’s just going to remain open, Curls.” Goshen let out a giant laugh. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I’ll forever be….”

They spoke in unison: “Regulation ‘Fro.”

“Yes, but it is because of connections with each other, we were enabled to keep going on the strength of our own resolve, goofy ethnic nicknames notwithstanding.”

President Goshen motioned for the two Protectors to re-enter the room.

“You tell Penelope that she just missed being called the wife of the Secretary of Monetary Policy!”

“I’ll let her know.” The two men hugged and their faces turned upward to the photographer who had just been allowed in the room.