had arrived at the school. The crowd became so large that it was necessary for most of them to gather in the cafeteria. At periodic intervals, Representatives eavesdropping on the raging quarrel in the library would give hurried reports.
At first, Melissa and her supporters gathered around one table, while Quentin and his faction collected at another. But eventually, as if by unspoken agreement, the two of them met privately in the vestibule.
“I’m worried, Quentin,” admitted Melissa. “I think I understand what Mike’s trying to do. If the United States is part of some great Confederation of Europe, we’ll have breathing room. It’d buy us time to grow and—” She groped for words. “And teach. Instead of turning us into a garrison state.”
Quentin nodded. “Yeah. And if I’m following the latest twist and turn in the debate, Mike just got half of Franconia added along with the rest of Thuringia. I think he’s shooting for all of it, too.” For a moment, his eyes grew a bit dreamy. “Be one hell of an expansion in the market, that’s for sure. Every business in the U.S. will start growing by leaps and bounds. The railroads alone—” He broke off, scratching his chin worriedly. “Still—”
“Still—” echoed Melissa. She sighed heavily. “But it sounds like he’s trading political principles for military security and economic expansion.”
She sighed again. “Well, that’s not fair. He hasn’t budged an inch on the Bill of Rights. Mike wouldn’t. Not on that. But I’m worried he’ll give so much else away in return that—”
Quentin snorted. “Mike?” He laughed drily. “Melissa, I used to negotiate contract provisions with that pigheaded SOB. Not to mention about a million grievances.”
The mine manager scowled. “I’m not worried about that. Mike negotiates like a pit bull. He’ll give you your leg back, sure—after he’s swallowed the meat. It’s just—” He heaved his own heavy sigh. “Oh, hell. It’s just that I’m a conservative, and I don’t approve of radical changes. And what Mike’s proposing—” He threw up his hands. “I mean—Jesus! I don’t care what you call it—a friggin’ king?”
For a moment—a rare moment—he and Melissa shared a common outrage and a common opinion. Then, simultaneously, they burst into laughter.
“Well,” chuckled Melissa. “Look at it this way, Quentin. If you and I can manage—somehow—to get along, then maybe those two can do the same.” She peered through the glass doors of the library. Gustav and Mike
At first, Melissa and her supporters gathered around one table, while Quentin and his faction collected at another. But eventually, as if by unspoken agreement, the two of them met privately in the vestibule.
“I’m worried, Quentin,” admitted Melissa. “I think I understand what Mike’s trying to do. If the United States is part of some great Confederation of Europe, we’ll have breathing room. It’d buy us time to grow and—” She groped for words. “And teach. Instead of turning us into a garrison state.”
Quentin nodded. “Yeah. And if I’m following the latest twist and turn in the debate, Mike just got half of Franconia added along with the rest of Thuringia. I think he’s shooting for all of it, too.” For a moment, his eyes grew a bit dreamy. “Be one hell of an expansion in the market, that’s for sure. Every business in the U.S. will start growing by leaps and bounds. The railroads alone—” He broke off, scratching his chin worriedly. “Still—”
“Still—” echoed Melissa. She sighed heavily. “But it sounds like he’s trading political principles for military security and economic expansion.”
She sighed again. “Well, that’s not fair. He hasn’t budged an inch on the Bill of Rights. Mike wouldn’t. Not on that. But I’m worried he’ll give so much else away in return that—”
Quentin snorted. “Mike?” He laughed drily. “Melissa, I used to negotiate contract provisions with that pigheaded SOB. Not to mention about a million grievances.”
The mine manager scowled. “I’m not worried about that. Mike negotiates like a pit bull. He’ll give you your leg back, sure—after he’s swallowed the meat. It’s just—” He heaved his own heavy sigh. “Oh, hell. It’s just that I’m a conservative, and I don’t approve of radical changes. And what Mike’s proposing—” He threw up his hands. “I mean—Jesus! I don’t care what you call it—a friggin’ king?”
For a moment—a rare moment—he and Melissa shared a common outrage and a common opinion. Then, simultaneously, they burst into laughter.
“Well,” chuckled Melissa. “Look at it this way, Quentin. If you and I can manage—somehow—to get along, then maybe those two can do the same.” She peered through the glass doors of the library. Gustav and Mike