Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Mr. President
By STEPHEN ARR
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
He had been overwhelmingly elected.Messages of sympathy poured in, butthey couldn't help ... nothing could.
eorge Wong stoodpale and silent by thevideo screen, listening tothe election returns, a long-stemmedglass of champagne clutchedforgotten in his trembling righthand.
The announcer droned on: "—latestreturns from Venus, withhalf of the election districts reporting,give three billion fourhundred and ninety-six millionvotes for Wong, against one billion,four hundred million forThompson, one billion one hundredmillion for Miccio, and ninehundred million for Kau. Theseresults, added to the almost completereturns from Earth and thefirst fragmentary reports fromMars, clearly indicate a landslidevote for Wong as the next Presidentof the Solar Union. The twobillion votes from Ganymede andCallisto, which will be receivedearly tomorrow morning, cannotappreciably affect the results. Thebattle for the twenty-five Vice-Presidentsis less clear. It is certainthat Thompson, Miccio,Kau, Singh, and DuLavier willall be among those elected, butin what order is not yet...."
Wong leaned over and snappedthe video off. His shoulders sagged.He leaned against the consoleas though too tired to move,a slight, narrow-shouldered manwith a very high forehead andthin receding black hair. Hislarge, sad, almond-shaped eyesand yellow-tinted skin indicatedthat there was a good deal ofAsiatic in the mixed blood thatflowed through his veins.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry,"Michael Thompson said sympathetically,placing a friendly armacross the narrow shoulders of thesuccessful candidate. They werealone in the living room of thehotel suite in New Geneva, whichthey had shared for the campaign."The people chose well.After the wonderful job you didin organizing the colonization ofIo and Europa, you were the logicalman. And then you do havethe fantastic Responsibility Quotientof 9.6 out of 10. Anyway,"he added with a weary shrug,"don't feel too bad—it looks asthough I'll be First Vice-President."
A brief ghost of a smile crossedGeorge Wong's face. "We whoare about to die salute you," hesaid, lifting his glass in a bittertoast to the blank video screen.
Thompson, the man who wasto be First Vice-President, silentlyjoined him.
"At least," Wong sighed, puttinghis empty glass down on thevideo, "I don't have a family.Look at poor Kau. At Miccio.With wives and children, howthey must have suffered whenthey learned they had been draftedby the conventions.... Well, Iguess there's nothing else to dobut to go to bed and wait untilthey come for me in the morning.Good night, Michael."
"Good night, George," MichaelThompson said. He turned towardhis own room. "I am sorry,"he said again.
ong had already eatenbreakfast