"This administration-." The younger man twitches slightly. I feel that I have just incurred some great debt to you, but I don't seem quite able to recall what for."
Alan floats upright, though his feet don't quite touch the ground.
A great debt... Yes, you
could call it that.
"You were in a bad way, sir, and I put you back together. But I'm afraid that America needs your help."
"It's my duty to the free world to aid our greatest hero." President Kennedy has a confused frown as he pulls himself to his feet and dusts himself off, and I find myself smiling at his description of Alan. "What seems to be the problem?"
And that 'Greatest Hero' title is no mistake. Green Lantern was probably the third most powerful being in the country in the middle of the century (The Spectre and Johnny Thunder by way of his 'genie' Yz being the top two.)
"An evil spirit-."
"Alan, Alan. Just a… Just a minute."
Yeah, he's still deep in the Hopeful Place, isn't he? Better cool him down before he breaks something vital.
Alan looks at me, his eyes still glowing pits.
"All of those emotions that were somewhere else, you feel them begin to return as you move away from the blue place. Remember all the things that made you angry? They're with you again, burning under your-."
And yes, it may
hurt to remember them, but that's part of being
human.
Alan gasps, dropping to his feet and his eyes returning to normal.
"You alright?"
He just mainlined Hope without the safety net of hosting the Embodiment, I'd say he's not all right... But he
will be.
He nods. "Is that what it's like for you?"
"Don't know, but maybe."
OL's perceptions are more
tinted orange thanks to his
Enlightenment. Alan had simply
rejected all else for a short time...
"Ah. I need a moment-."
"No problem. Mister President." I step forward and offer him my right hand. "Orange Lantern."
"Any friend of Green Lantern is a friend of mine."
Yeah, Alan's gonna need a moment to find his centre again.
He takes my hand and I feel a tremendous sense of reassurance and warmth at his presence. It's like meeting my father again after being at university for a term.
I don't think I like it.
Well, aren't you just a pessimistic grumpy guts?
"Sir, we're in a magic realm where all the worst parts of the American psyche are real objects or people. We're trying to get to the part which corresponds to Washington so that we can deal with the spirit of corruption that has kidnapped Uncle Sam and replaced him in the real world."
"And where do I come in?"
Well, he is technically the second-highest power in the land. You can guess the
first.
"A manifestation of the Military-Industrial Complex has fortified the outskirts with a giant wall, but I'm hoping that they'll open the gates for the President."
"A wall around Washington? Unthinkable. I'll demand that they tear it down!"
As long as you don't go declaring you're a jelly-filled doughnut
again.
"Sir, I'm not sure that a direct confrontation with the Military-Industrial Complex would turn out well for you."
"I choose to tear down the Military-Industrial Complex, not because it is easy, but because it is hard."
...So, how happy is he going to be when he sees they made it to the Moon? And then angry that they
didn't stick around?
Alan nods, creating a platform under the Super President's feet and rising into the air. The birds and I follow them, the great grey walls of the Military-Industrial Complex growing steadily closer. I see the missile batteries and flak guns train themselves on us.
"Green Lantern, put me on the radio."
Quickly, please, before you get to experience what that pigeon did a couple of chapters back. And the big man here's already had
one run-in with getting holes shot in him...
An old style radio microphone appears in front of him.
"To the forces occupying the capital of the great nation, I am the President of the United States. With the authority invested in me by the Constitution, I as Commander in Chief order you to stand down."
...And now to see if that
works.
The guns keep tracking us, but… We're over their perimeter now and they haven't fired. Close up, the walls tower into the heavens and we're flying almost vertical in an attempt to clear the battlements.
"Our purpose is to defend America. Why would the President order us to stand down?"
And for some reason, I'm hearing that in
Gomer Pyle's voice.
"Total war makes no sense in an age where great powers can maintain large and relatively invulnerable nuclear forces and refuse to surrender without resort to those forces. It makes no sense in an age when a single nuclear weapon contains almost ten times the explosive force delivered by all the allied air forces in the Second World War. It makes no sense in an age when the deadly poisons produced by a nuclear exchange would be carried by wind and water and soil and seed to the far corners of the globe and to generations yet unborn."
Nice speech, Mr President.
"What alternative is there?"
"Too many of us think that peace is impossible. Too many think it is unreal. But that is a dangerous, defeatist belief. It leads to the conclusion that war is inevitable, that mankind is doomed, that we are gripped by forces we cannot control. We need not accept that view. Our problems are manmade. Therefore, they can be solved by man. And man can be as big as he wants. No problem of human destiny is beyond human beings. Man's reason and spirit have often solved the seemingly unsolvable and I believe they can do it again."
...And now I wonder if that's having some effect on the world at large.
So much for not messing with America's collective psyche.
…
Huh.
Okay. Didn't feel too bad that time.
Because he's saying the things that make you nod your head. It's not as different to your own agenda as his initial contact.
"You clearly don't understand what we're about. But this sounds like a problem for The Brass."
There's a clunk, and a section of the wall slides away while the missiles and gun batteries return to the neutral position.
...Don't think we didn't hear those Capital Letters. Looks like this isn't over
yet.
"Come on in, Mister President."
"Thank you."
Take your shoes off, put your feet up.
The five of us fly forward into the gap, prompting my to frown at the vulture.
"Why are you still here? The Military-Industrial Complex didn't kill us."
She's patient. And probably figures you're good for
days of nibbling.
"Early days."
We enter the tunnel, which… Keeps going, the entry gate sliding back into place behind us, followed by a bulkhead shutter-. And then another, and another, slamming down the moment we're past them.
And now we're in the '
Get Smart'
opening titles... Sheesh. Shows of the President's
approximate era, getting a real workout.
Alan glances back. "Friendly, aren't they?"
"Perhaps we should have pretended to be arms lobbyists."
They'd see through you in a second. Not cut-throat enough.
Kennedy shakes his head. "That would be unwise. The Military-Industrial Complex that besets this great country is not friendly towards foreign competition, even from our most stalwart allies. They would sell an armed robber a bullet to shoot their own mothers if they could turn a profit that way."
The inner door opens ahead of us, but I can't help frowning.
Sadly true of so many nations...
And let's not
argue over it, folks? We've been doing so
well so far.
"Did anyone else hear the way he said 'The Brass'? Because-."
"The M.I.C. leaves complex decisions to me!"
Ah, that would be The Brass.
Loud fella, ain't he?
The titanic robot made of shining brown metal standing towering over Washington raises its shoulder and forearm mounted cannons.
"And I've decided to designate this place a free-fire zone!"
Whatever happened to 'speak softly, but carry a big stick'?
