Happy Utopia Day, Joe McCarthy

Chapter 6

Tell me what you want and I’ll say it. 

 —Senator Joseph McCarthy 

Fixer stops laughing. “Whoa, cowboy. Relax, relax, nobody is going to die.” 

“But you said I needed to die.” 

“Not literally. We jump out, the plane crashes, and on paper you’re dead.” 

“We jump out?”

“In a parachute, Giorgio. Now put that gun away.”  

His face softens, and he appears truthful. I slowly put the PPK into its holster. “Why do I need to die?” 

“Everyone dies.” 

I sigh. “Is this a game to you?”

“Yes.” Fixer’s eyes light up. “And the key is not to win or lose, but to stay in the game and keep having fun.” 

“I’m more concerned about the dying part. The president didn’t say anything about dying.” 

Fixer leans forward and gazes out the window like he’s looking for something on the ground. “Haven’t you figured out that the president doesn’t know anything about anything?

That’s why he’s sending you to Emergence—so you can find out something about something.” 

I look at him, trying to figure out how much he might know.

“Vance Slater’s sending me, too.” 

“Slater’s sending you to find out nothing about something,” Fixer says. 

 “What’s that supposed to mean? What do you know about Emergence?” 

He pulls back slightly on the throttle. The engine whine lessens and the plane slows. “Forget about it. You’ll find out soon enough. And don’t worry about the dying part. Death is hope. Death is the good part of our job. Everyone at Emergence is dead.” 

“Bullshit.” I point at him. “Talk straight for once.” 

Fixer holds up his palms. “Government dead, I mean. Emergence is so secret that it technically doesn’t exist, and if you’re going to visit there, you can’t exist either.” 

 I breathe in deep. “So, what you’re saying is that the government fakes their deaths.” 

“Exactly. And trust me, a government death is the best kind.” 

“Well, sure. You’re not really dead.” 

“But the beauty of it is you get to be reborn.” Fixer gestures with his hands like an animated preacher. “Really reborn. Not just some hopeful Jesus-Bible-beating, Hare-Krishna-dancing, matzo-ball-eating, Muhammad-Ali-punching redemption. Real government forgiving rebirth.” 

“Like with a new name and everything?” 

“Yes. They give you a new name, new clothes, a new place to live, and new friends. Think of it! No more debts, grudges, taxes, paternity suits, or psycho stalking women who don’t understand what really being single is all about.”

“Isn’t being single a temporary state while you’re in pursuit of a meaningful relationship?”  

“You’re hopeless, Giorgio. I should be calling you Ward.” 

“Whatever.” I shake my head. “Look, I don’t want to die, not even a blessed government death. What about my wife and kid? They can’t think I’m dead. I’m not giving them up.”