Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (13 page)

"I didn't mean that. Future elections will
depend upon the Internet and my company has more experience than
anybody else. We already have two elections under our belt. I'm
looking for a third, but this time I want to do things differently.
Reginald Meredith ran a conventional campaign in Alabama and came
to
Politicstoday
in the eleventh hour when
he was about to get whipped. We turned things around for him at the
finish line, though only by a narrow margin. Now, I need to show
how an election can be won through the net from the getgo. No
television, no radio, no stump speeches, no direct interviews with
the press. That doesn't mean that the media won't be involved. It
will, but only
indirectly
. My company
would like to manage your campaign from start to finish. Quotes,
pictures, videos, everything necessary to make you a representative
should emanate from your web site."

Kye Naah's crusading enthusiasm worried
Gabby. Washington, she had learned, was full of partisans –
self-confident, ambitious people, selling their wares with the same
verve as door-to-door peddlers. On less crowded ice in the middle
of the rink, she spiked the teeth on her skates into the surface to
stop. "Let me get this straight, Kye. Are you asking me to be your
guinea pig and run for Congress from the Internet exclusively? I'm
no politician but I can't imagine a candidate who doesn't get out
and pump the flesh. You and the DNC don't have a clue; I'm a
clergywoman, not a politician."

"Nobody is born to politics. In this country,
elections make politicians, not the other way around. Congress is
filled with lawyers, zoo keepers, university professors, cattle
ranchers and shoe salesmen. Why not a rabbi?"

"Because this particular rabbi couldn't get
elected to the library commission."

Together they moseyed from the center back
into the stream of skaters scratching and clawing for free ice.
"Lyle sent me a file of newspaper clippings about you," he said.
"You're exactly the person who
can
get
elected and not just to the library commission. You're articulate,
presentable and highly respected. You're perfect for
Politicstoday
. We can get you tremendous exposure
which translates into notoriety and, need I remind you? Famous
people get elected."

"You're pitching too hard. I've done a little
homework on
Politicstoday
myself. Your
website invites criticism. Every vote won there will scare another
away."

He flailed his arms in a gesture of
exasperation. "You've been reading my creditors' propaganda. The
business owes a lot of money. Nobody pioneers anything in this
country without debt. But we're different from hundreds of
e-commerce startups. Once they burn through their initial funding,
they go public to make the founders and original investors wealthy.
We haven't gone the public route and I doubt we will. We’re going
to remain private and independent. As a public company, we'd be
forced to redefine our goals. Shareholders would demand we stop
innovating and start making hard cash. For now, we're holding on by
our fingernails. That will change."

"I'd have to be a millionaire or be married
to a millionaire," she said.

"That would help, but isn't a prerequisite.
Let me ask a simple question. What's screwing up the federal
government these days?"

"Money," she shot back without having to
think of another possibility.

"Right. And you've seen how Congress has
dodged election reform for the past half century. The beauty of the
Internet is that it levels the playing field and takes much of the
money out of politics. And that will eventually translate into less
compromised representation. The day when only the highborn, wealthy
and well-connected govern this land is coming to an end. I need
somebody like you to demonstrate the potential."

Gabby could not afford to take her eyes off
the stream of skaters in order to telegraph her suspicion.

He narrowed the distance to her and said, "I
know you think I'm crazy. Many people do. So before you commit me
to a sanatorium, let me invite you for some hot chocolate."

She immediately angled toward the gate to
accept. Two young hockey skaters swooped by at accelerated speeds,
adroitly weaving around skaters hugging the sideboards. Kye
followed to wait behind a father and his little girl as she
shuffled on double-bladed learning skates, walking rather than
sliding. He was about to step off the ice when a teenager, in
sloppy pants that hung over his skates, threaded into the narrow
space separating Kye and the little girl. Kye dug the teeth of his
skates into the ice to block a certain collision. A second youth,
skating behind his friend at the same speed snagged Kye's forward
blade, propelling him forward against the young girl. Both Kye's
arms jutted forward to cushion the girl from impact as a pack of
bodies collided. Behind them, other skaters scrambled to avert a
massive pile-up, though some failed to avoid adding to the
confusion. As the pack began to unravel, the little girl screamed
hysterically. Rink guards, in maroon jackets with white lettering,
joined the mayhem to deal with a second kid who had ricocheted from
the sideboards and knocked down another teenager. Tempers flared,
prelude to a shoving fight.

The girl's father glowered first at Kye then
at the hockey skater responsible for the collision.

Gabby, who was downed but uninjured,
scrambled to help Kye onto his feet. "Are you all right?" she
reached under his arm for support.

His lips grimaced with pain. "I'll tell you
after I take inventory. How about you?"

"No problems. Call it my first fall of the
day."

"Hey fella, watch where the hell you're
skating." The father reproached Kye, pointing an accusing finger.
"You scared my daughter."

"I didn't intend to," Kye exposed teeth as if
he were prepared to bite his attacker. "I was trying to stop her
from getting crushed."

"We know all about foreigners like you," the
father snapped back.

"I'm sorry. I tried to keep your daughter
from getting trapped under me," he said while probing his rib cage
to test for a fracture.

The father cuddled the child protectively,
still muttering invectives and converting fear into anger. "Next
time, buddy, keep your filthy hands off my kid."

A few minutes later, granules of un-dissolved
powdered hot chocolate swirled in Gabby's Styrofoam cup. A thin
moustache of whipped cream appeared on her upper lip. Kye sat on a
plastic chair in the outdoor café, one hand cupping his chocolate
and the other massaging soreness in his ribs.

"I can drive you to George Washington
Hospital's emergency room for an X-ray," she offered. "I saw the
train wreck. The blow you received would have knocked an elephant
off its feet."

"A little sore but I'll be all right. If that
little girl hadn't been there, things would have been
different."

"I didn't notice her father effusive with
gratitude. He owed you his thanks, not his derision."

Kye squirmed, unable to get comfortable in
the outdoor chair. "Forget about him. He's history in my book.
We've got better things to worry about. I'd like to show you
Politicstoday
. We're located near the New
Carrollton Metro station on the Orange Line, just beyond the
District in Prince George's County. We have 62,000 square feet of
offices with an option to build a larger facility alongside on a
vacant pad. Think of a network television communication center and
imagine our plant. We're pioneering with new technology every
day."

"I'm impressed. If campaigning on the web
requires so much technology, it must be expensive. I haven't got
the kind of wealth required to support even two days of an
operation you describe."

"Yes and no. Yes, it costs a lot to operate.
But no, we enjoy a major cost saving with our personnel. We're set
up as a commune, which means all employees, including me, receive
no more than a subsistence salary. We issue stock warrants for the
future when we'll divide the equity or, God forbid, go public. The
system works pretty well for our young singles, but is tough on
married couples, especially those with children. Thank God we have
an excellent health plan. But as far as you're concerned, Lyle
tells me the DNC expects to pay a good portion of your expenses. I
promise we can do it for a fraction of what it will cost Toby
Ryles."

"Given my track record in politics, I'm not
worth the expenditure," she said as her cheeks cascaded into her
dimples. "I can't justify spending other people's money."

"This is bigger than Gabby Lewyn. Serving in
Congress is bigger than the individual running. Think of it as a
campaign for clean politics, something this country hasn't seen
since 1776."

His illusion to clean politics confused her.
She wondered if he appreciated how power corrupted even the
humblest. And were she to be successful, wouldn't honest politics
put her into conflict with congressional leaders? It seemed to her
that every two years a fresh crop of idealists entered Congress
only to lose their idealism shortly after arrival.

"Want to skate more or take a short walk." He
broke into her thoughts. "I'd like to show you the Hill."

She gazed over the crowded ice. Rock music
had replaced waltzes. A quick glance at her watch told she had an
hour before returning home to shower and dress for the late
afternoon wedding ceremony. "Frankly, you don't look well enough
for skating or walking."

"I'm okay. This isn't the first time I've
been run up on the boards."

"If you're certain about that, then let's
walk for a few minutes."

"Good," he said while rising from his seat, a
grimace of pain expanding over his lower lip. "Let's go up to
Congress."

After changing into shoes, they strolled east
past the National Gallery of Art toward the Capitol Reflecting
Pool. The steep marble stairs mounting from the Mall toward the
white dome of the Capitol seemed particularly difficult for
him.

"Makes you feel something special, doesn't
it?" Gabby stated, overlooking the stately buildings flanking the
Mall. "I get goose pimples when remembering Lincoln's epithet, 'a
nation of the people, by the people, and for the people…' Despite
all the shortcomings of Congress, it's still a magnificent system
of governance, isn't it?"

"That's the myth anyway. It's mostly promise,
you know. Once legislators walk through the doors of this august
palace, they change forever. They become part of a machine with one
overriding goal – to perpetuate their presence in the club. And
that means raising money and pandering to those who give it."

A tremor of sadness rippled through her.
"You're not inspired by the democracy this nation has
fabricated?"

"I'm sick of Washington politics. My mission
is to drive money out of the government equation."

"Then why not run for office yourself?"

His eyes turned to scan the ionic columns
jutting heavenward. "Thought about it, but how many Koreans do you
see in Congress? For that matter, how many Asians? That doesn't
mean it couldn't happen, but it's unlikely. I can make a greater
impact with technology than sitting in the big cathedral. If only I
can get the right people to help me, people like you who won't join
the rat pack as soon as elected. What's the use of winning if my
candidate becomes just another hack politician like my erstwhile
protégé, Reggi Meredith? I was betrayed seconds after he took the
oath of office."

"How do you know I wouldn't sell out,
too?"

"I read your dossier. You never wanted money
or power."

"And if I decline to be your guinea pig?"

"You won't," he declared without the
slightest hint of uncertainty.

"And how do you know that, Dr. Internet?"

"Because of what you said on the phone about
how your friends have given up on skating and are prepared to stand
behind the barrier and watch others have fun. You're not the type
to sit comfortably on the sidelines while others skate. Congress is
moving with horse and buggy technology. The Internet will make
fund-raising marathons into substantive debates. At a fraction of
today's costs."

He spun on the balls of his feet and pointed
to the House of Representatives. "With or without you, Gabby, I'm
going to change this place. I haven't got many friends in this
city. Lyle Carberri suffers me only because he has no alternative.
His minions are supremely suspicious."

She sought a witty remark, but nothing came
to mind and instead she said, "I love what I do in the synagogue,
Kye."

"That's obvious. But your talent is needed
elsewhere."

When the conversation became too
uncomfortable, she changed the subject . "I'd be happy to get my
car and meet you over on First Street so you don't have to go down
those stairs. I saw how painful coming up was."

"I haven't got a car these days. That, like
almost everything I own, is in hock. We have two company vans used
on weekends by our associates with families."

"Then I'll drive you home. It's time for me
to prepare to officiate at a wedding at six o'clock."

"Thanks but no. It isn't necessary. I came by
Metro and can return by Metro."

"Is the station far away?"

He laughed with eyebrows that rose into his
forehead.

"What's so funny?"

"You obviously don't use public transport.
The Capitol South station is only two blocks from here."

***

On Monday morning she brought up
Politicstoday
on the web, then sent an email to Kye
Naah.

How are your ribs? It's
sad that father didn't appreciate how you saved his daughter from
injury on the ice.

Gabrielle Lewyn