10.05.2008 / EP. 44
A Typical Day
When Milly woke, it was still dark. Spasms of delight raced up her spine. Every cell in her body laughed and sang. Her skin tingled with joy. She felt free, happier than she’d been in months. It was unaccountable, or nearly so. Milly knew what had changed. The stalemate with Pam was broken. Peace or war; Milly didn’t care which, but to have the issue decided was everything. She leapt from bed and ran to the shower, eager to face the day. She would turn the heat up till steam blanketed the walls. Then down. She wanted cold against her skin. She imagined the torrent of a waterfall, the noise, the foam, the turmoil, the speed and avalanche of sensation. She threw open the shower door and there her delight toppled heavily and lugubriously to the ground. There under the water stood a younger Milly who resembled the image from the locket, but emaciated and worn beyond caring. The image became Pam. Then the young Milly again, smiling sickly. Milly brutally forced herself awake. She’d had enough of dreams.
She held herself a long time under the hot water. Therapeutic, she thought, like a tropical waterfall. The water was calming. She didn’t want cold today. She dried herself slowly, then detoured through the dolls room before getting dressed. Standing among the still faces, the peaceful and serene creatures that humanity had devised in its own image restored her calm. The dream had dissipated though in its place there paraded light waves of terror in serried rows that still pulled and jostled against her will. Milly felt fragile. She drove her Porsche to the Quall Building, trembling slightly and watching for anything untoward. It was 7:00 a.m. when she unlocked her office door and began her daily routine.
Milly’s routine in the last month began with delegation. An eager 32 year old lawyer reviewed Milly’s email, telephone messages and memos. The same woman and a friend of similar vintage from law school screened Arthur’s incoming material and passed anything of importance to Milly along with suggested answers. The women spent twice on clothes what Milly did and it showed and Milly knew it. The women were also twice as sociable as Milly, twice as well liked, would rise twice as high in the conventional elite and wield twice the traditional power, and Milly knew all that too and didn’t care. Only a handful of communications reached Milly each day, of which Arthur would see one or two. Milly devoted herself to more complex tasks.
At precisely seven in the morning, Milly reviewed her agenda. She had a meeting in the morning and another in the afternoon. Both required preparation. At 7:15 her communications team gave her a one-page digest of the overnight messages. Milly took a fashion lesson as well. It looked like shoes were getting pointy again, and handbags smaller. Discussion of email and like material took her to 7:45. Preparation for the morning meeting began in earnest. It was scheduled for 10:00. This was a review of the proposed point men for industry in the north-eastern states. The purpose was policy and fundraising. Not that the two ever really disentangled. Their roots in the electoral system were too conjoined. Implicit in the choices lay lobbying; the industries wanted assurance that their friends were influencing the Governor’s program whatever he said for public consumption. If their pointmen held influential positions, funds would flow. The Governor wanted this. The industries would disclose their closest secrets and ensure the Governor wasn’t blindsided. The Governor wanted this as well. The pointmen had to satisfy industry and public service tests, criteria that had nothing in common. Their reality and appearance had to be squeaky clean. Checking the names was boring, but necessary. Milly also knew the fiercest battles were over apparently innocuous choices. Groups around Brull were jockeying for influence through these advisors. Milly didn’t care about most of the selections, but drugs entered the picture through a number of pipelines, any of which could cause her grief if the wrong personalities held sway. The press could make drugs a major issue on television and in print. Legitimate medication could edge into the black market. Law enforcement, the military, interest rates, any number of issues could elevate or depress Milly’s profits. And of course she had to cloak her interests under the patina of the Governor’s, as did everyone. Milly reviewed the lists of candidates for the Governor’s advisory panels. She read carefully the proposed Heads of Arthur Brull’s teams and the nominees for Chief of Staff, among which one name stood out.
Steven Lin, Chief of Staff? Someone had nominated him for the most influential position in a new administration. All appointments, be they to the Supreme Court or Department of Trade, passed through his hands. Fred, to be sure, would exert more immediate impact as executive assistant, and the Secretaries of Defence and State and others directed the vectors of the nation’s might, but the Chief of Staff could and did plant friends in key positions. He accomplished and circumvented without troubling to pass a law about it. When the Chief wanted a favour, hundreds owed him jobs and wanted promotion and would help him out. More importantly, the Chief of Staff determined who influenced the President and who was available to promote and carry out policies. When it came to making choices, the Governor as President would have team X as his eyes, ears, arms and legs instead of team Y. The Chief wouldn’t make decisions, but would create conditions that favoured the options he preferred. The President, nine times out of ten, followed the path of least resistance.
Steven Lin. Why not? He’d support Milly for career advancement, if she asked properly. She noted beside his name that he had exceptional talent, tact and ability. Outstanding dedication, she wrote. Her list would pass to others, who’d see the special attention Lin had received. They’d remember that he knew their names and was friendly. When they needed a transfer, when their brother or cousin or sister’s fiancé was out of work again, they could hope for something from Lin. Milly’s endorsement would prompt others to do the same. It could create a landslide out of a remote prospect.
The Governor’s appointments group was checking Lin for sins of omission and commission. His resume was attached to the package of paper. A swarm of fact checkers had researched every diploma and reference he’d claimed. This was a more personal verification. Anyone who held rank in Brull’s campaign was scanning the list and seeing who’d offended them, ever, over any issue at all. If someone didn’t fit in or couldn’t get along under stress or broke out in hives on the third Tuesday in Lent, the campaign wanted to know.
The opposite was also true. If a supporter possessed multiple talents, now was the time to disclose them, when the Governor’s need was greatest. Milly wrote in Lin for law enforcement and industry. She saw he was already nominated for foreign affairs and pharmaceuticals. It was 8:30. Milly told Arthur to second her recommendations. She dealt with Arthur’s communications and set him on course for the rest of the day. He had a legislative emergency that would cause him to miss the 10:00 conference. She’d relay his views. It was almost 9:00. Milly had the rest of the names to review. Other people at the meeting would have favorites to promote. Milly’s assistants guided her through the list. She herself appeared as a nominee under gender equality and Secretary of State. There was no one else of note.
Milly had a few minutes to breathe before the meeting began. She looked at her lunch and afternoon. Lunch was with two other administrative assistants. These were power lunches, designed to share lessons and coordinate activity. They were valuable experiences. Milly liked them. They were also jungle telegraph. They allowed low and middle ranks to criticize the absurdity of their bosses. How do you cope with Jack who changes his mind every five minutes? What did George do after Wanda tore a strip off him? Are they gay? The assistants left feeling part of a like-minded whole, like football fans in the midst of a cheering stadium. The afternoon had 20 minute pockets of consultation and decision-making, mainly herself and Arthur with other staff, together with the two to four slot which consisted of input from state assemblymen and others about Bills and porkbarrelling, blue-collar sister of lobbying. Someone wanted his name on a Bill so he could show his constituents he was effective. Another assemblymen wanted an amendment to address a car insurance problem. Everyone’s back needed stroking. There were 150 state representatives in Albany, each with an ego a mile wide. Milly could sooth ruffled feathers with her eyes closed and mind in an alternative universe; she just pictured the assemblymen immobile and under glass. This was a restful day by her standards.
