Chapter Forty - Real Politics

“I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, people split along two lines. And yeah, I know, that’s a generalization, which means it’s generally wrong. Anyway, on the one side, you got those that understood the more pragmatic side of politics, the realpolitik and the reasoning behind some of the bullshit.

Only some of it, mind you. There’s some bullshit that’s just people being dumb.

On the other side of that line you have the fanatics. Wildly devoted to whatever echo-chambered message they’ve been fed over and over again until it’s all they know, and they live in this constant state of thinking they’re right.

Anyway, I don’t have time for all that political stuff.”

--Jerry Grant, political commentator, 2045

***

Mayor Dupont looked at me for a long moment before saying anything. “Is that why you’re here? To ask that the city does something about this mess you caused in the sewers?”

“Two things,” I said, my hand coming up in a peace symbol. “First, I didn’t cause the mess. The lack of foresight in letting a literal gang of self-mutilating lunatics take care of the sewage caused the mess. Second, I’m not here to ask, I’m here to inform you, personally, that shit’s about to hit the fan.”

“And that’s a concern for me?”

I blinked. “Are you dumb?” I asked. “No, you can’t be. Not if you got this fancy office and morning blow jobs. I’ll bet you’re corrupt as fuck, but you need to be able to put two and two together.”

Dupont placed his fists on his desk and glared before leaning back. “Let’s presume that this sewer problem isn’t your fault, which I’ll only treat as a hypothetical. What do you expect the city to do?”

“Isn’t the entire goal of the city to take care of... you know, the city? Roads and power lines and building permits and sewage?”

“No, the purpose of the city as a governmental institution is to make a profit by means of taxation and regulation. Punishing those who fail to comply with our rules and lubricating the economic machine for those who require assistance.”

“What?” I asked.

“That means that yes, we take care of infrastructure, because we are better situated to take care of that infrastructure than the companies which need it to exist.”

I shook my head. “Alright, I don’t get it.”

He sighed. “Then go take a civics course and get out of my office.”

“No, and no,” I said. I tried to cross one leg over the other, but that wasn’t exactly possible in power armour. “Come on, explain it to me using small words.”

The mayor rolled his eyes. I liked him better when he was less sarcastic and more scared shitless. “Imagine a road. That road needs to be built, which costs money. It needs to be maintained, which also costs money. Hundreds of thousands of credits, all poured into this road. If it’s never used, then it’s a loss. But if it is used, then that money might not be lost.”

“Lot of emphasis, there,” I said.

“It depends on who uses it, doesn’t it? Some normal citizens? Do you know how much we make in taxes from the average citizen in this city? Barely enough to cover the expenses in this building alone. The real money comes from taxing the important players who use the city’s infrastructure. The companies and corporations that need those roads to make their businesses work.”

I nodded. I got the gist of it, at least. “And that’s why you won’t fix the sewers?”

“Oh, if things are as fucked as you imply, then of course the good city of New Montreal will make an effort to maintain and repair what we can. We provide a service to the corporations that inhabit this city. We take care of things so they don’t have to, and because the cost of those things is defrayed across the entire population and across every company based on their use of said infrastructure, it’s a fair cost. There’s always some grumbling and cheating, but I’m not a fucking moron—I can tell when someone’s cutting me short, and I know how to put the squeeze on their bottom line.”

He chuckled darkly.

“You can’t imagine how quickly a company will turn around and pay up when they can’t move any cargo from one factory to the next because every road around them is under permanent construction, or if their internet is cut off for a day or two.”

I sighed and shook my head. Was he trying to waste my time? Not that the discussion wasn’t interesting; it actually was. I could see why Dupont got the seat. It wasn’t his looks or his incredible slut powers, that was for sure. The guy just had a lot of charisma once he got going... somehow. “You know, every minute we spend not acting is another minute that passes with the entire water system for the city on the verge of collapsing.”

“And every credit that isn’t taxed is a worthless one. Are you going to cover the cost of repairing the system?”

“Fuck no,” I said.

“Then who will?” he asked.

I gestured around, trying to encompass the city as a whole. “The people who need water to live? You know, the same ones paying taxes and shit?”

“As I said, their contributions don’t amount to much. Maybe enough to maintain things, at a guess, but I’m assuming the entire thing will need repairs if you’ve shown up.”

“Then what do you expect to happen? People will be okay tomorrow when they can’t flush and their taps give them fuck all?” I asked. “You’re going to have riots.”

He shrugged. “Someone will make a fortune selling bottled water? A few people will be inconvenienced, and then some corporation will realize they need water to run their operation and will invest in the city in order to get things running again.”

That sounded so backwards to me.

“We can help things along, of course,” Dupont said. He sat down in his big plush seat. “A few tax breaks here and there, maybe a favour to one company or another. As long as it’s worthwhile in the long term, then the problem will get fixed. In the end, though, it’s just shit.”

“Are you going to pipe it out to the ocean then?” I asked.

“We could,” he said.

“Aren’t there environmental agencies that’ll throw a fit?”

Dupont laughed. “Girl, we are those agencies. And we only throw a fit when it means we can extort more cash from some corp that doesn’t know to pay the bribes before the problem becomes obvious.”

I shifted on my seat, thinking. I didn’t quite know what to do, which was really annoying. So I leaned onto my elbows and asked a dumb question to pass the time while I mulled things over. “You’re being very open about all of this. I could be recording you. Actually, I am literally recording you, there’s no ‘could’ about it.”

“Oh, I don’t particularly care,” Dupont said. “In my time as mayor I have made a lot of the right people very happy. They know that any replacement might rock the boat. The voters could line up to suck my knob and I still wouldn’t care about their opinions. They can clamour and scream and riot all they want.”

“Can you talk about your knob a bit less? There’s a kid in the room,” I said.

“Talk realpolitik, not dick,” Rac sing-songed. Then she grinned. “Realpolidick.”

“Please never repeat that again,” I said. I refocused on the mayor. “You know, I came in here expecting to threaten the shit out of you, not to get lectured about the benefits of corruption. I haven’t even pulled out my awesome new sword to skewer anything yet. I’m kind of disappointed.”

“You wanted to solve everything with violence?” Dupont asked. “In that case, politics might not be the right line of work for you, Stray Cat. Here the violence is either delivered verbally or through an accidental car bomb.”

“So, you won’t do anything to help until literally millions of people are fucked over?” I asked.

“I’ll do something to help when the right people are fucked over,” Dupont corrected.

I stood up. “Right then,” I said. “Thanks for your time. I still think you’re a sleazy fuck though.”

“Are you going to do anything about my doorframe?” he asked. From the tone I think it was just a parting jab.

“Fuck your doorframe,” I said. “Come on, Rac, we’re going to have to fix our problems ourselves.”

And by ourselves, I meant that I had to make some new friends.

But first, I needed a shower and about ten hours of sleep.

***