Free Our Children's Children by Clifford D. Simak Page B

splash.”
    Wellington poured another little splash, and the Senator settled back again.
    â€œThat matter of a position,” he said, “is something that is going to require some long and prayerful thought. It has not become apparent yet, but there will be positions practically begging to be taken and a man must look them over good and select them very carefully. What you say about these folks being our descendants is all well and good. You being a man whose family history is long and proud would think that way, of course. But you got to remember that there are a lot of people with little family history and not proud of what they have, and these people, who make up the greatest part of the good old U.S.A., are not going to give a damn about them being their descendants. Maybe them being our descendants will make it all the worse. There are a lot of families these days that are having lots of trouble with their own immediate descendants.
    â€œThere are several millions of these people already through the tunnels and they still are pouring through and while we can hold up our hands in pious horror and ask how we are going to take care of them, the real gut reaction will come when those extra millions begin to have an effect on the economy. Food may suddenly get scarce and other things as well and prices will go up and there’ll be a housing problem and a labor problem and there won’t be goods enough to go around and while all this now is just economic talk, in a little while it will cease to be just economic talk and every man and woman in this fair land of ours will feel the impact of it and that’s when there’s hell to pay. And that’s the time when a man like you must pick out his position and study all the angles before he settles on it.”
    â€œGood God,” said Wellington, “this thing is happening out there—our own people of the future fleeing back to us—and here we sit, the two of us, and trying to figure out a good, safe political position.…”
    â€œPolitics,” said the Senator, “is a very complicated and a most practical business. You’ve got to be hardheaded about it. You can’t ever afford to get emotional about it. That’s the first thing that you must remember—don’t ever get emotional about anything at all. Oh, it’s all right to appear to be emotional. Sometimes that has a certain appeal for the electorate. But before you can afford to get emotional you must have everything all figured out ahead of time. You may be emotional for effect, but never because you feel that way.”
    â€œIt’s not too attractive the way you put it, Senator. It leaves one with a slightly dirty taste.”
    â€œSure, I know,” said the Senator. “I know about that dirty taste myself. You just shut your mind to it, is all. It’s all right, of course, to be a great statesman and a humanitarian, but before you get to be a statesman you have to be a dirty politician. You have to get elected first. And you never get elected without feeling just a little dirty.”
    He placed the glass on the table beside his chair, fumbled for his cane and found it, heaved himself erect.
    â€œNow, you mind,” he said, “before you go saying anything, you just check with me. I been through all this before, many times before. I guess you could say I have developed a political instinct for the jugular and I am seldom wrong. Up there on the Hill we hear things. There are some real good pipelines. I’ll know when there’s anything about to happen, so we’ll have time to study it.”

19
    The press conference had gone well. Arrangements had been made for the President’s TV appearance. The clock on the wall ticked over to 6 P.M. The teletypes went on clacking softly to themselves.
    Wilson said to Judy, “You’d better call it a day. It’s time to close up shop.”
    â€œHow about