This blog is about writing, not politics, but sometimes you just have to speak out. I hadn’t planned to post this excerpt from Cyan, but today’s (March 20) Face the Nation, and an interview with Stephanopoulos on This Week, changed my mind.
For months, the media has become increasingly open in their bias against Donald Trump. Well, so am I, but I’m not sworn to neutrality. On today’s show, Stephanopoulos’s gotcha questioning actually made Trump look like the wiser man, and that’s hard to do. I fear that the media’s abandonment of neutrality will further inflame Trump’s supporters, and that protesters trying to silence him will harden his supporters’ resolve.
It made me think about Saloman Curran.
I created Curran as a villian, or adversary, or strong-man, or malign father-figure in my upcoming novel Cyan. My protagonist Keir finds himself working for Curran, much against his will, and trying to figure him out
“What do you think of Saloman Curran?”
That was the question Keir asked a dozen times during the following days. The words varied with circumstances, and he was careful to ask it when his respondents would feel free to answer honestly. Keir had realized that his own opinion was colored by his needs, and by the power that Curran held over him, and he wanted to know what the other people who shared the Curran International building with him thought of their boss.
They loved him.
They thought he was the smartest, strongest man in the world. They thought he was one of the few men who could help pull mankind out of the mess it had gotten itself into.
Their feelings were close to worship, but it was not like a Christian’s love of Jesus. It was closer to the distant, worshipful fear of an angry Jehovah. Not one person had any faith that his position with Curran was secure. Any one of them could be fired at any time; they knew that; they accepted it.
“Nels got fired last week, but he was screwing up.” What do you expect?
The second sentence was never voiced, but always implied. If anyone was fired, demoted, or punished in any way, it was assumed that that person was at fault. No one ever thought of blaming Curran.
Keir had never seen an organization like Curran International, and at the end of a week he decided that it was not the organizational structure, or even Curran himself, that was different. These people loved Curran, not because he was loveable, but because they had set out to find someone to love.
Jeeze, that sounds familiar, and it scares hell out of me.