Templeton opened the massive wooden door leading to his office and ushered Charlie inside. He walked in and was taken aback at the sheer size of the room. At the far end, a single panoramic window allowed for a sweeping view of the park across the street and the imposing capital building on its opposite end. In front of the window was the center piece of the room, a mahogany desk so large it may have doubled as a boat. Leather couches and upholstered chairs were situated in front of the desk in such a way that a person sitting in any one of them would have been able to give their full attention to the senator while seated.
A small but fully functional bar rested unobtrusively in one corner of the room, readily supplied with everything from scotch to grapefruit juice. Lining the walls were rows upon rows of tall bookcases, stocked from end to end with an impressive range of books, and above these hung a variety of old style paintings, portraits and pictures. The walls were painted a sharp forest green, the carpeting beige.
“Very impressive, senator,” said Charlie, still scanning the room. Templeton shrugged modestly.
“I’m happy with it. This was been my home away from home for the past fifteen years. Just about all of the other senators and congressmen have their offices over at the capital building just down the way,” and he pointed out the window, “but I really prefer working away from all that fuss. The capital building is like a bee-hive for humans, always people in and out, tourists mostly. Things are a lot more quite over at this side of the pond. It is unusual for a high ranking politician such as myself to work outside the capital building but due to my seniority in the house, I’m allowed such extravagances. Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Marley?”
“Thank you, no. There’s really no need. I haven’t been thirsty, or hungry for that matter, since I died. Alcohol does not even effect me anymore. After my first visit with the doctors, I went through five bottles of brandy without so much as a hiccup.”
“Horrors!” Templeton exclaimed. “To be deprived of one of the greatest pastimes of humanity. I feel for you, Mr. Marley, I truly do. But to business, to business. Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable. Mr. Cross, a gin and tonic if you will.”
“Of course, sir,” replied the young man, making a bee-line for the bar.
Templeton led Charlie to one of the oversized chairs facing the huge desk and then took his own chair. The two men regarded each other for a moment, the senator peering past his steepled hands placed against his mouth. Shortly, Cross delivered the senator’s drink, then sat on a couch across from Charlie, producing a pen and pad of paper from the folds of his blazer.
“Mr. Marley, as I said…” Templeton began but was quickly interrupted.
“ ‘Charlie’ to my friends,” explained the old man.
“Charlie,” smiled the politician, “as I said down in the lobby, I am prepared to do everything in my considerable power to assist you. Now Mr. Cross here was able to give me the bare-bones of your situation as he heard from you downstairs but I think best if you were to explain everything to me.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. Every detail, every little fact and facet, every minute action, deed and happen-stance. I want you to leave no stone unturned. Tell me everything.”
And so Charlie Marley began his story anew, starting with a brief prelude to his own life before leading up to the event of his death. As requested, he made sure to include every small and seemingly irrelevant account. During the long confession, Templeton interrupted seldomly, cutting in only a few times to ask a question or otherwise probe Charlie’s memory a little deeper. The senator would occasionally jot down a note or two but it seemed that Sebastian Cross was writing down Charlie’s entire conversation verbatim in a strange sort of short hand, scribbling with a mad efficiency.
By the time Charlie had finished, the shadows in the office had grown long, the sky outside darker. Templeton leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “An incredible story, Charlie,” the senator remarked, “truly incredible. A tale of loss, rebirth, struggle. Epic, simply epic. And having heard the entire story, I am extremely confident that we can get you that death certificate, that holy grail that you have journeyed so far to find.”
Charlie was overjoyed. “Oh, I just knew that I was making the right decision coming here. Do you really think you can do this?”
“Of course, of course,” Templeton laughed. “Listen, Charlie, I’ve been working in this town for forty-five years, thirty of those years as a senator. That’s a lot of time to earn certain favors, to make certain friends. I couldn’t begin to tell you how may favors are owned to me. I believe that I even have a couple first-born children promised to me.”
“Five of them, sir,” added Cross, not looking up from his note writing. “In fact, Franklin’s wife is due next week.”
Templeton nodded his approval. “So you see, Charlie, it would be a simple matter for me to just pick up his phone,” he stroked the receiver for emphasis, “and make a call or two and have one bonifide, completely legal death certificate bearing your name delivered to this very office.”
“Why, that’s just marvelous,” Charlie beamed, eyeing the phone expectantly.
“However,” the senator added ominously, sliding his hand away from the phone, “quid pro quo. One good turn deserves another, as they say. Before I do this thing for you, Charlie, there is something I very much need for you to do for me. Something very important.”
“What could I possibly do for a man such as yourself,” asked Charlie, brow furled in confusion. “I don’t have any money or influence. And I’m a little too old to be making first-born children for you to take.”
Templeton gave a soft chuckle. “No, nothing like that. I’m thinking more long the lines of you… providing a service. I’ll let Mr. Cross explain this. He has a talent for simplifying complex matters.”
The senator allowed his large frame to fall back into his large chair, relaxing. To Charlie’s left, the assistant scooted across the sofa a bit, bringing himself a bit closer to the old man and began to speak in a clear, confident voice.
“Mr. Marley,” he began, “do you now how government officials come to office?”
“Of course. They are elected by the will of the people expressed by popular vote.” Both Cross and Templeton gave sheepish grins.
“Well, that’s a rather simplistic explanation of a much more complex process. You have to look deeper than that, however. Have you ever considered what drives the will of the people? What influences, both internal and external, motivate them to vote one way or the other?”
“I suppose… that perhaps… religion maybe?” stammered Charlie, struggling for the words as he considered the question. “Their own beliefs? Personal beliefs?”
“Issues, Mr. Marley!” boomed Templeton dramatically. “It’s all about issues!”
“Issues?” repeated Charlie, not sure if he understood. “Yes, I suppose that that the issues of the day do play a large part to play in the decision making process.”
“They are the only part in the decision making process, sir,” Cross stated flatly. “Political careers can be made or shattered based solely on the issues that they stand for, for the issues that the populace hold most dear.”
Charlie was nodding in understanding, then said, “But issues are finicky things, aren’t they? What may be a heart felt and beloved issue for one may be a non-issue or even vial concept for another.”
“Exactly!” both Cross and Templeton exclaimed in a duet of excited. A long silence followed.
“I do not understand, I am afraid,” Charlie said softly after a moment. Cross smiled.
“You hit the nail on the head, Mr. Marley. Issues drive the political machine but the people rarely agree, en masse, on any of them. Some folks are fervent supports of such things as abortion, legalization of marijuana, stricter immigration controls, health care reform, gun control, increasing our military. However just as many people are just as passionate about supporting the very opposite of those things. How can a public servant possibly stand on any one of these platforms when there a millions of people ready to knock him off it? Speaking publically and from the heart is one of the most dangerous things a politician can ever do.”
Charlie’s head was buzzing now. He understood what Cross was saying but how he could do anything about this truth was beyond him.
Eyes squinting in deep thought, Charlie asked, “Are you asking me to… speak in favor of health care reform? Or increasing our military budget?”
“No,” Templeton said plainly, “old issues, all old issues and nothing that you can do about those anyway.”
“So…”
“So,” replied Cross, his face breaking out into a wide smile, “we, the Senator and I, are asking you to become an issue.”
“What!”
“Yes,” Cross nodded, “you heard correctly. Once in a very great while, perhaps every other generation, an issue presents itself to the country, even the entire world. A great issue, one that is absolute and immediate, one where there is no question about right or wrong, one where the truth of it is undeniable. Sometimes it is recognized very quickly, such as World War Two, and acted upon very quickly. Sometimes, such as our history of slavery, it takes centuries to realize and overcome. But would you, Mr. Marley, agree that slavery is evil?”
“Well of course I do,” the old man replied, his voice sounding hurt, almost insulted. “What kind of human being would think that is was not.’
Templeton patted Charlie gently on the knee with a soothing gentleness. “We all did, Charlie, we all did. It’s hard to believe but one hundred and fifty years ago, in this very land, keeping slaves was no more egregious than owning a microwave is today. But we have learned, evolved, have we not?”
“We have,” said Charlie.
“And every man, woman and child deserves basic human rights,” said Cross, “do they not?”
“They do,” said Charlie.
“Including the dead ones?” asked Cross with a knowing arch of an eyebrow. Then the pieces of this puzzle began to piece together within Charlie’s mind.
“I see,” he said, “so you want me to become a spokesman of sorts regarding the rights of the deceased.”
“Very much so, Mr. Marley,” replied the Senator with almost a pleading tone in his voice. “We would like to present you to the people of this nation as a symbol against the age old discrimination that your kind has suffered. How people afflicted by the stagnation of death have been ignored and dismissed for centuries, how your rights and dignities have been tossed aside the moment you go “belly up,” as they say. Your story will be told and wept over by the multitudes, your voice shall be heard and your rights discarded… no more.”
Charlie cocked his head slightly as he considered. “And you would act as, what, a champion of this… issue?”
“Indeed,” Cross replied for Templeton. “The Senator would act as your ‘champion’ as you so eloquently put it. He would provide the resources and experience required to get your sad story to the masses. He would act as the mouth piece, the man behind the scenes, working tirelessly to see that the proper legislation is passed to secure the God given rights and protections that you and yours deserve.”
The old man was nodding. “This sounds a good and fine but I think there is perhaps one small detail that you perhaps not taken into account. All of the doctors and city officials that I have met with all seem to agree that my case is unique. As far as I can tell, I am the only one of my kind. So when you speak of all the other… decedents that I would be representing, it would appear that there are none. Only me.”
“An affront to one citizen of our great country is an affront to us all,” Templeton proclaimed. “And yes, while you may be the first to suffer from this… affliction, you may not be the last. I see it fortuitous that we have found you when we did. We are in an excellent position to ‘nip the situation in the bud,’ as they say. I ask you, Mr. Marley, should we wait and wait until this problem becomes pandemic? Should we wait until more people like yourself begin popping up all over the country, a whole class of citizens, all of them disillusioned and disenchanted, forgotten and forbidden, chastised and chastened?”
“No, I guess not,” Charlie said softly, considering the implications.
“Then if not now… when?”
By this point, Charlie’s brain was reeling. In all this time, he had only been considered with his own situation, his own misery. Had he really been so selfish as not to consider there may possibly be a much bigger picture he was failing to take into account? These two men had now made him realize something he had never considered… that he was still a citizen, he still had rights and that he had an obligation, both to himself and to those who would come after him, to fight this injustice.
And damn it all, fight he would!
“Very well!” Charlie exclaimed with blazing eyes and a firm voice, his back straight and his hands clenched. “Senator Templeton, Mr. Cross, I would be honored if you would allow me this great opportunity. From this point on, Charles Marley is a victim no more!”
Templeton and Cross jumped to their feet in unison and began to applaud the old man before them with massive crashes of their hands.
“Such bravery,” Cross exclaimed. “Such selfless bravery.”
“Bravo, Charlie!” Templeton bellowed, “Bravo and hear hear!” Only after a solid minute did the pair become silent. “Now, Charlie, here is plan as I see it, in brief. First come the press briefs, public appearances, speeches. This will be your part in this drama.”
“Yes!” Charlie replied.
“Then,” Cross continued, “with the full support of the people, the Senator begins the process of writing and pushing through the new legislation through the House and the Senate, legislation that any lawmaker in their right mind would be a fool not to pass.”
“Exactly!” Charlie cried.
“Finally,” Templeton postulated, “with wide and wild support of the people behind me, I win the next election in a landslide. And then, my dear Mr. Marley, you will receive with great pomp and ceremony, your bonafide death certificate!”
“I receive my death cert…!” Charlie’s eyes went wide as his voice caught in his throat. “Um, did you say the next election? But that’s not until next year?! I have to wait until next year?!”
Cross’s face became suddenly somber, his tone delicate. “Yes, Mr. Marley, I am afraid that we would require your services until the end of election. I know that may seem quite a long ways away but please consider the alternative. You may choose to go this alone and try the normal channels but you yourself have seen how slowly and inefficiently the wheels of bureaucracy turn. How far have you gotten in the past three months? Nowhere… other than here where you find yourself presented with a golden opportunity, a guaranteed opportunity. I implore you not to pass it up. Please also consider that your sacrifice of a single year of your death will produce security and freedom for all deceased individuals that will last the ages.”
Charlie allowed this to sink in. After a moment, Senator Templeton approached him where he sat and extended a beefy hand. “Do we have an agreement, Mr. Charles Marley?” he asked simply.
With a sigh and a nod, Charlie stood and accepted the hand. “We have an agreement, Senator Templeton. We have an agreement.”
“Excellent,” Templeton beamed, giving the cold hand a couple firm pumps and then releasing quickly. Then he turned and began to stride to his desk in purpose, barking orders on the way. “Sebastian, find accommodations for Charlie here. A suite at the Plaza should do nicely. Also a stylist for him, we need to make him more presentable. I like that Hanson woman from Styles PR, I want her. Also a dialog coach, acting coach, personal trainer… just tell the folks at Styles to bring everybody, now. I need a speech in two hours, give it to Barnes, fill him in, something sweeping but wrenching. I want tears in the people’s eyes, tears I tell you. On second thought, you write it yourself, you are better at pulling at those heart strings. Make a call to the press, I want a full network conference tomorrow at noon, a matter of national importance. No, a matter of national pride. Better yet, a matter of national tragedy. All the networks, plus print and radio! I want at least an hour, no less. Also I want one of the director’s from County General Hospital there. Maybe Clarke… no, make it Schlitz, he’s more European. I want Schlitz with a full battery of medical equipment at the press conference. Noon tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow?” gasped Charlie. “Is it going to all happen that fast?”
“Indeed it is,” answered Cross, not looking up from his pad has he wrote with manic energy. “But don’t you worry, you will be perfectly prepared for the press conference tomorrow. You won’t have to say or do much, this is just a preliminary introduction. All we want you to do is stand there and let the Senator do all the talking, answer all the questions.”
“But I thought that I would be… you know, the voice the quite dead masses.”
“And in time you will be,” replied Cross as he pulled out his cell phone and began punching numbers, “but as of right now, you are very much not qualified. But don’t worry, the Styles Public Relations firm is the absolute best in the country. We will have you ship-shape and ready to go by next week.”
Charlie slumped down on the couch and began to rub his chin. “Oh, lord, what have I gotten myself into.”
Templeton chuckled. “The wonderful world of politics, Charlie,” Templeton chuckled. “The wonderful world of politics.”
Has Charlie just made a deal with the devil? Or will Templeton deliver on his promise? Tune in next Sunday for Part Three of The Life of Charlie Marley, D.O.A.!
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