73%
“…is how many people voted for him.”
“…is the best result in an election since nineteen-fucking-thirty-seven.”
“Look at him up there”—The speaker was Ari Carlson. The man he was describing, basking in the victory lights on stage, was Uriah Fable, his candidate.—“my goddamn candidate. I fucking made that man.”
Later in a bar at 3 a.m.:
“If only I coulda run him in more than one district, you know?” he said, slurring his words. The woman sitting in front of him had long fallen asleep, but Carlson didn’t care. “Gimme a dozen Fables and I could give you the entire state.”
A TV in the corner was playing the news.
“—why the state?” somebody said.
The voice was sober.
Carlson twisted around trying to find it. The bar was a blur. “What?”
A man sat down beside the unconscious woman across from Carlson and said: “I said: Why stop at the state? Why curb your ambition?”
“Who are you?” Carlson asked.
The man’s face swam. It said, “My name is Nedwin Brood.”
“Well, I’m—”
“I know who you are, Mr. Carlson. What I’m proposing is: Why stop at a state when you could have the country. Why stop at a dozen, when you could have, oh…”
537
…Uriah Fables in one room.
Identical.
Same voice, same movements. Same once-in-a-lifetime voter appeal.
“Technically, they’re different people,” said Nedwin Brood. “In practice, they’re the same. If you can predict one, you can predict them all. If you can control one…”
Carlson couldn’t even tell the original from the clones anymore. Hell, maybe there wasn’t an original. The way he’d screamed when they’d forced him into the chamber. Maybe it was easier just to make one extra.
He still couldn’t believe what was happening.
Three years ago, he’d been a state level election manager. Now he had his own national political party and was about to make a very public announcement…
“Run the same candidate in every-fucking-race?!”
“He can’t do that—can he?”
“I mean, it’s highly unusual, Mr. President. But what the lawyers tell me is that it’s not illegal. It just hasn’t been possible.”
“Until now.”
“Yes, sir. Until now.”
The polls
“…put Fable in the lead absolutely everywhere!” Carlson yelled, popping a champagne bottle. “He’s the perfect candidate.”
“People love a maverick,” said Brood.
“Just imagine…”
“Congressman Fable, the floor is yours.“
“Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” the congressman said in the same gorgeous baritone. I believe I speak for all of us when I say—” His green eyes gazed out at all the other pairs of green eyes in the building: all 534 other Uriah Fables split between the Senate and House of Representatives. “—that tomorrow will be a special day. A day of very personal satisfaction. And as we prepare to welcome President Fable and Vice-President Fable to government, let us remember the motto of this great country of ours. E pluribus unum.”
“E pluribus unum,” the Fables resounded.