
“Quicknum and Rafferty are both closed books,” The Captain said to me. “Different books, but both closed. You’re forced to judge by the cover and then, of course, criticized for being shallow. In the end, there is only one winner, but the only one who never wins is you.”
“But they have to spend all that money trying to get my attention,” I said. “Costs them dearly to change my mind. Each of us has the power to change our mind, yes?”



“Yesmaybe,” he jaunted, using a captainism. “The thing about the thing is that most people make up their mind long before election day.”
“But there’s still an unvocal undecided that all the resources are aimed at swaying, no?” I countered, “a gloriousnumb objective group that keeps an open mind until election day. One that chooses the winner, and defines the center all the candidates run to. The opposite of an open mind is not a closed mind; it is a made-up mind, yes?”
“You really are a yesmaybe, you know that? No, make that a maynot,” he laughed.
“And you know, Captain,” I presnarled, “with an open mind you can hear things on both sides that give comfort -”
He hardened his eyes and blunted me without a breath. “And terrify, Griff. You speak for yourself from that lonely middle. I got my guy, and her name’s Trixie Rafferty.”
I forgave him his resolution. He was 25 years my senior, though when Actuarial Escape Velocity reached 1 in 2014, the differences in our ages became negligible almost overnight (at least to an actuary). Longer life was romanticized for a few years until it became apparent that semimmortality meant you spent 70 to 140 in a 70-year old body. Now, in 2020, semimmortality is considered by many a pain in the ass and the number of irascible individuals is exploding. The Captain, 50, was hardly an irascible 70, but he had his moments.
(more…)