Jason OMahony - Irish political blogger, Irish politics, EU politics
 

President Santorum and the Voice of God: A political fantasy.

Posted by Jason O on Mar 3, 2012 in Fiction, Not quite serious., US Politics |

The President's Hotline to Heaven.

The President's Hotline to Heaven.

The first time had been during a decade of the Rosary, as he had knelt in front of the desk, on the giant seal of the United States. It was a regular item on his daily agenda, the small card his personal aide presented him each morning with the day’s itinerary, slivers of time on his schedule to allow him to pray and find the strength from the Lord to continue his work. This was the first time God had ever spoken back.

President Santorum had jerked up when he had heard it, angry that someone had walked into the Oval Office during this private moment of prayer. He’d been very clear from day one that he was not to be disturbed unless it was absolutely vital.

But there had been no one there, and he had dismissed it as a rogue sound fragment, very unusual in the soundproofed office, but not impossible. Two days later, as he prayed, it had happened again. This time, he had heard it clearly.

“You are the one.”

The voice had been male, with what could best be described as a mid-Atlantic accent. It was deep, with gravitas, but without being too Morgan Freeman.

The president had leapt to his feet, walking around the room. He checked his phones. Had someone called through? But there had been nothing.

Later that day, as he had been briefed by the director of the CIA, the voice had said “You are my sword.”

“What did you say?” he asked the agency director.

“I said, we believe that we can get by with a very modest budget increase this year, sir.”

“Did you not mention a sword?”

The director looked blankly at the president, then down at his notes, as if he maybe had by accident.

“Ah, no sir. I did not.”

The meeting continued without incident, until the director had left, leaving the president alone.

“That one is a man of wisdom,” the voice said.

The president felt his temper flare up. This was the agency’s game, was it? Stick a hidden speaker in the Oval Office and make the first truly devout president think he was on remote? What sort of idiot did they take him for?

“You have doubts. It is right for you to have doubts,” the voice said.

His brain told him not to dignify this nonsense with a response, but to get the Secret Service in here to tear the office apart. He would not mention the voice of God, of course, because that would only leak and would be gorged upon by the late night comics, but he’d complain of hearing a strange noise, and suggest the room be swept for devices.

His temper had other ideas. 

“How dare you! I am the President of the United States.”

The voice remained calm.

“It is right for you to have doubts. I do not want a mindless servant. Test me.”

“I would never test my true Lord, for I have faith in him, and you are not him!”

“Ask me that which you have only shared with me.”

The president shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There were things he was deeply ashamed of, particularly in his youth. Nothing illegal, nothing odd that any other young American male would not have done, but actions and indeed thoughts and desires that he had had, that he had never shared with anyone, even in the confessional.

The voice then described one of those very thoughts, in detail, and forgave him for those thoughts, telling him that his penance had been paid with his feelings of guilt.

The president had been stunned. Nobody could know of those thoughts.

The voice then described a second source of guilt, an act he had committed as a youth, and forgave him for that too.

The president racked his brains. The second act he had been sure have never been witnessed, and it had been so long ago, how could anyone uncover it now?

It wasn’t impossible, and of course, this was the CIA…

The voice then spoke a third time, describing inappropriate thoughts of lust he had once harboured. The president felt his face redden in shame.

“Richard, it is for you to follow your true path, but you shall not be alone. There are others.”

Santorum snatched up his phone, and called his personal assistant, instructing that the CIA director be called back to his office. The director had not yet left the building.

The director seemed puzzled at his recall, but took the president’s invitation to sit.

“Mr Director, I wanted to ask you something. Are you a man of faith?”

The director raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Mr President,  I think it is well known that I would not be regarded as one of the more devout members of your administration. I was baptised a Catholic, but I have not been to a church in many years.”

The president nodded. It had been a talking point during the director’s nomination, the fact that his lack of public displays of faith had sat slightly uneasily in the new administration. He had been the only cabinet nominee who refused to quote his favourite piece of scripture during his senate confirmation. If it had not been for his impeccable Republican credentials and clear abilities and experience within the intelligence community, it was doubtful as to whether he would have been appointed at all.

“But do you pray?” the president asked.

The director gritted his teeth.

“With all due respect, sir, that’s none of your business.”

“He is not a pharisee. He does not claim public adoration for his devotion,” the voice said.

The president nodded. Could it be that God was steering him towards an ally, a man so devout that he regarded public display, something which would advance his career in this administration, as sinful for that very reason?

“I have never heard you speak on the issue of faith in public life,” the president said.

“That’s because I don’t believe in it, sir. I believe faith to be a private matter, and that the mixing of faith and politics is a bad thing. I understand the administration has a different view, and so I remain silent and do my job. However, if my silence is an issue for you, I will resign if you wish. But I will not expound faith in public.”

The president had not expected this.

“No, that will not be necessary, Mr Director. I just wanted to get a better understanding of how you feel. Thank you for coming back.”

Both men stood, shook hands, and the director left.

On the way back to CIA headquarters in Langley, he recalled President-Elect Santorum’s first visit to be briefed after the election. He also recalled the drugging of the president-elect, and the interrogation to extract the questions and answers that would confirm the authenticity of God. The director shook his head.

The  things he did to keep America safe. 

1 Comment

Joe
Apr 13, 2012 at 5:45 pm

I’ve known many Europeans who very nearly seem to masturbate to this type of fiction.

Which county in which US state is it that you’re registered to vote in?


 

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