Royal Digs by D. D. Scott

fellas, we might reach that
fiscal cliff we’re climbing towards like that damn Price Is Right
game before this election is decided. We’ve got anxious markets,
banks, fund managers and traders that may take action sooner rather
than later,” I said to anyone in the room who would listen.
    “Is that a threat?” A gentleman asked who was
wearing a lanyard identifying him as property of the US Treasury
Office.
    “Could be a promise, right?” The Chairman of
the Federal Reserve asked next.
    “We know that your father has been taking
meetings with all of the agencies and regulators involved through
his associates,” said one of the FBI Analysts leading this
emergency coalition.
    “How do you know that?” I asked, surprised
that my father would be so careless.
    “One result of Dodd-Frank is that, in the
interest of transparency, all such meetings are listed on each
agency’s website.”
    My father had never been good about keeping
up with technology unless it had to do with money transfers.
    “And thanks to the documentation you
discovered in Box 438, we’ve been able to match up those
associations and partnerships who called for those meetings with
your father’s people.”
    So, apparently, the FBI was finally finding
more than a bunch of dead ends. Good for them. Bad for my father
and The Governor.
    “Okay then. This is where we can actually use
the fact that this year’s DNC Convention is going to be so open,”
my sister popped in.
    “I don’t understand,” several of the talking
heads in the room simultaneously said.
    Many leaned sideways in their chairs,
starting private conversations with other members of the emergency
taskforce.
    “If I may continue,” my sister said, waiting
for the intensifying roar to dim, “Most everyone attending the
functions associated with the convention will have smartphones.
Many will also have tablets, right?”
    The room was once again silent. She had their
undivided attention and several members were nodding their
heads.
    “That provides a lot of fantastic and very
unique opportunities for issue-advocacy groups who will be
attending and putting on demonstrations at the convention,” Bunny
used her iPad to bring up the convention’s website.
    The site’s homepage alone showcased exactly
what she meant by a social media blitz of available information and
platforms tuned-in to monopolize on it.
    “Ah, I think I see where you’re headed with
this. We can use our very own super PAC, Mission Green Freedom!” I
said.
    Bunny was brilliant! I may be able to design
killer gadgets, but Bunny knew how to work masses of people with
one little tablet.
    “Exactly, Big Brother,” she said, a wicked
twinkle lighting up her pretty face.
    “We can have a very informative two-way
conversation with all Americans. Actually, with the world,” Ross
added. “It’s time the truth was revealed.”
    I was so glad to have Ross at the meeting. He
was well-respected in these circles. People trusted him, and we
needed all the trust we could muster.
    “Ask yourself, where do people turn in
today’s world for breaking news?” Bunny continued, while pulling up
Facebook, Twitter, and several other social media platforms with
just a tap here, a pinch there, and a cache of quick swipes across
her screen.
    “Twitter, Facebook, You Tube...” Someone in
the room said.
    “Bingo.”
    “The blogosphere.” Another nameless person
volunteered.
    “Yes. Now you’ve all got it. Nothing works
better than social media to take something off-script,” Bunny
said.
    She cued up the Daily Show’s homepage, which
got her a room full of nervous laughter.
    “In an instant, we’ll have a global audience
of millions. Now that’s the kind of buzz we’ve got to generate. If
we want to get the truth out and bring The Governor’s campaign to a
screeching halt, this is the venue,” I added to Bunny’s stellar
presentation.
    I didn’t need to add anything to increase the
effectiveness of what she was