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By Dave Eggers
Editor's note: This is the most recent episode in Dave Eggers' novel in progress. To read previous episodes, click here.
Mar. 09, 2004 | Ten minutes later, Rebecca found herself sitting on a small plastic chair, blue and meant for middle-school children, surrounded by 80 or so would-be volunteers, radiating from her like rays from a sun -- or, depending on how one saw it, like a school of carnivorous fish circling a guppy.
They were grilling her, and she was doing her best to answer them, to appease them, to stall until Giacomo got out from under the desk and helped her out. She really had no idea if she wanted these students, all of them a bit too intense and trying hard to disguise it, working for her campaign; it almost seemed simpler to send them away and to one of her opponents, so she could go back to recruiting retirees.
"How much are you paying for this space?" one of them asked. Rebecca told her: About $1,100 a month, a pretty good deal, she figured. "We'll move," one of the twins said. "We'll find something free."
The pack of them had started referring to themselves and Rebecca as "we," though none of them had been hired in any official way, and few of them knew each other. About 20 of the students were from Eastern Illinois University; the rest represented schools from all over the state -- Loyola, DePaul, University of Chicago, Northwestern, Columbia College, College of Lake County, the American Academy of Art -- and most of them had met over the Internet, on which Rebecca's speech had been posted. (One of the EIU students had recorded it and made it available as an MP3 or in text form. In the 14 hours since her time in Lumpkin Hall, it had been downloaded 8,237 times and had made its way around the world many times over.) "You can't find a space big enough for free," another student, looking like a young Terry Jones, said. "I say we spend money on rent but nothing else. That's pure enough."
"Nope," said one of the blond twins. "We're not gonna spend a dime." Rebecca couldn't remember who was who, but she knew that the twins were Scylla and Chary (oh yes), and they were no doubt going to be directing traffic with these volunteers. They were incredibly intense, the two of them, clear-speaking and somehow charismatic without being soft or attractive in any tangible way. Rebecca was fairly sure they had no friends besides each other and were probably content with that situation. They were polished and smooth, without blemishes or any wrinkles or errors, as if their entire makeup, their very souls, were created with the most modern materials and assembled by machines.
"The only way to make it work is to keep it outrageously pure," one of them said -- probably Chary. "Pure from the bottom up, pure from left to right, pure as far as the eye can see, pure within one ten-thousandth of an inch."
Scylla: "It'll keep us on our toes."
Chary: "Otherwise it'd be too easy."
Scylla: "Yeah, this way it's a challenge."
There were a few sighs and quick inhalations, from those among the volunteers who wanted to believe that this could be done -- an entire Senate race without spending a penny -- but who weren't convinced it could be quite this unadulterated and were already bracing themselves for disappointment.
Soon, though, they were arguing among themselves, not needing Rebecca (or Giacomo, who was still hiding under his desk), debating strategies to deal with most of the foreseeable hurdles the campaign would encounter.
"How should we pay for flyers?"
"We won't need them."
"We won't need them?"
"Has anyone ever read a brochure any candidate has ever printed?"
"A few. Maybe not."
"Henceforth all communications are in person or via the Internet."
"Who sets up the Web site?"
"Taken care of. It'll be live tomorrow." This from a large young man named Leland, bearded and wearing a tie and a corduroy jacket. Why, Rebecca wondered, must webmasters look like webmasters and never like anyone else? Had there ever been a clean-shaven Web expert? One whose wardrobe wasn't some unique hybrid of medievalist and thrill jockey enthusiast?
"Food?"
"Everyone feeds themselves. We know how to."
"Lawn signs?"
"They never had an effect on any campaign in the history of the world."
Though Giacomo and Charlie would no doubt argue the point -- the old guard loved their lawn signs -- Rebecca had to agree on that one.
"I'm intrigued," said a voice behind Rebecca. At last, Giacomo had left his hiding place and had joined the assembled. "I really appreciate your enthusiasm, all of you I truly do, and I'm intrigued enough by the whole idea to watch with bemused silence for a week. But then we'll have to get serious."
"Who are you?" asked Chary.
"I'm Giacomo. I'm running this campaign."
"Oh?" Scylla said, in a way that intimated -- or rather screamed -- that she did not believe in or respect his authority, and that she would, with her sister, soon replace or devour him.
-- By Dave Eggers
