“Live free or die, right? Gotta love that.”

A huge movie screen above the stage projected King’s image. Draped across the stage were red, white, and blue banners proclaiming the “Restoring National Honor Tour™” and its website, RestoreNationalHonor.us. The cameras followed King, picking up his every movement as he addressed the rally of screaming supporters.

There were nothing but supporters at these big bashes. Attendees were prescreened to probe their backgrounds and gauge their support before they could be issued tickets to these officially designated National Special Security Events. Everyone else who wished to attend was forced behind police barricades a half-mile away to special “free speech zones,” out of sight and out of mind, their infantile protests, chants, and placards practically invisible.

Joseph King mentally rehearsed his last line, a memorable phrase he had come up with all by himself. His speeches were filled with zingers sure to be picked up on the news. Reading from hidden teleprompters, he went through his usual routine, peppering his speech with words like “duty” and “obligation,” “struggle” and “sacrifice,” “service” and “loyalty,” “unity” and “strength.” Good words. Solid words. Patriotic words.

“Thank you. Thank you, my friends,” he said to fervent clapping.

He bowed his head humbly while waiting for the raging applause to subside.

“Of course, the real credit goes to the American people. And I’ll tell you something else—”

He had arrived at the big finish, ready for the moment with his dramatic signature line. It was part of a theme he had developed over the last few months. He struck a decisive pose and waited a beat.

“When it comes to questioning terrorists, what’s the other party’s answer?”

The audience responded right on cue. Like the lyrics of a popular song, they knew their line by heart.

“Just — say — no!” they thundered in unison.

The candidate smiled and clapped and the audience happily laughed and clapped with him.

“Hey, thanks New Hampshire, you’ve been great. Thank you!”

4

Multi-Stakeholder Solutions

“SENATOR! SENATOR, OVER HERE! HEY, SENATOR!” the reporters shouted, desperately trying to attract attention over the noise. Aides yelled into their cell phones. Well-dressed crowds swarmed into the Capitol rotunda, their clamor amplified under the imposing cast-iron domed ceiling. On a magnificent fresco far overhead, George Washington rose to the heavens in glory, flanked by Liberty and Victory, but no one paid any attention.

A senate hearing had just opened its doors. Reporters jostled to get interviews as their camera operators illuminated the impromptu gatherings forming in the lobby. Beefy security agents in black uniforms and tall boots manned surveillance posts just outside the building on this dreary day, machine guns on their hips. From outside, the throng in the rotunda looked like a festive, raucous party.

“I think we have, you know, achieved something important today for the American people,” Senator Dixon said. A little breathless, with a rosy blush spreading across her face, she was visibly excited to be announcing this latest breakthrough on live television. This couldn’t but help her reelection prospects.

The reporter took his microphone away, tapped it, and then held it to her mouth. She leaned into it.

“It’s like—”

“Hang on,” interrupted the reporter. “Sorry, Senator.”

He turned to the woman behind him fiddling with the sound boom.

“C’mon, get the sound feed working!”

After a short delay it was fixed.

“Okay, we’re back; go ahead, Senator.”

“We had to do something, you know, real quick, and today we’ve done just that.”

Dixon smoothed her skirt and cleared her throat.

“We’ve done something. The people have spoken and we’re paying attention. Since day one we’ve worked tirelessly—”

She was cut off by a man who came up from behind. He pressed a blade against her throat.

“Shut up!” he screamed. “Shut the hell up!”

The crowd fell silent. Dark and scrawny, of medium height, with short black hair and a closely cropped beard, the young man wore a cheap dark suit and dirty white running shoes.