Blue Key Rising: It's Always Rainy in Oregon
Prologue:
The portly officer stepped out of his car and into the rain of the Portland, Oregon morning. He clicked a button on his key fob and heard a familiar click as the trunk lid of his cruiser popped open. He stepped around, reached for a once-shiny-but now-well used staple gun and a roll of what they called “stay-the-fuck-out tape” and then closed the trunk.
He walked around to the front door of the cruiser, retrieved an envelope containing the condemnation notice, shut the door and walked resolutely toward the dilapidated building that had once served as a bakery, then a convenience store, had sat empty for many years and then, until this morning, a food bank for local indigent and homeless people.
The officer frowned. He knew that posting the notice would only make the situation worse. Within days or weeks, he or someone else in his unit would be called on to pull doped out crackheads who didn’t care about tape or condemnation notices out of this same place. But they wouldn’t board it up until then. Cost analysis.
“Stupid bureaucrats,” he muttered. “May as well have just left it as a food bank.” I would have been a lot less work.
Still though, the condemnation order had come and the officer had a job to do. So as rain ran down his yellow slicker, some of it escaping and beading a trail to the back of his neck as if in warning that he was not being one of the good guys, Officer Tom Grady dutifully stapled the required notices on the door and the window frame, strung the tape, replaced the stapler and what was left of the tape roll into his trunk, closed the lid, opened the back door to his cruiser, did his best (unsuccessfully) to remove his rain slicker without soaking himself in the process, stowed it in the back seat of the car, closed the back door, opened the driver side door, stepped inside, situated himself into the seat, closed the door, put the car in gear, and drove away.
Half a block away, Maggie Stone, who until this moment had been the head of operations at the very same food bank, stood under an awning and watched the proceeding with fury. She looked down at her phone, at the article about something called “Blue Key Democracy” and took in a deep breath. “Fuck,” she whispered as she set her jaw and began to re-read the long article—written by some schlep who called himself Sevastian Winters. “Probably a fake name,” she muttered.
Maggie had read the article the week before and it had been replaying in her head for days. The closure of the food bank, though, had made it suddenly seem relevant. Important.
She finished the article and dialed her closest friend. He answered on the third ring.
“They did it,” she said. “They fucking did it.”
She didn’t have to explain. It had been a topic of conversation for weeks. Brad just sighed. No words.
“Meet me at Denny’s,” she said. “We’ll have some breakfast and talk. I wanna run something by you.”
Brad agreed.
Maggie clicked the button to end the call and dialed the next number. Blue Key Democracy had said “five.” She had four more calls to make.
Chapter 1: That Afternoon
“What do you mean ‘we just do it?’” Brad asked.
“Just what I said,” said Maggie. “If there are enough of us, who’s gonna stop us?”
Brad, Mike, Sherry, Theresa, and Erin stared back at her incredulously from around the diner table.
“So we’re just going to take over an old building, fix it up, take what we need when we need it and just feed, clothe, and help people—just like that? No permits? No money. No permission?” asked Sherry.
“They’ll arrest us,” said Mike. The others murmured their agreement.
“None of that matters,” insisted Maggie. She pointed at the printed version of the article she had made up for each of them. They can arrest us, but by the time they do, it will be too late. The mission will still go on.”
Maggie saw the light beginning to dawn on their faces. So she explained it again.
“The government works for us. Or at least they’re supposed to. So they need our permission to stop us. Not the other way around. Their laws hurt people. So they don’t apply to us anymore. The whole system is set up to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. They broke the social contract. So now it’s our turn.”
“So, tell us again how we do this,” said Theresa. “I think you’re crazy, but somehow maybe also a little bit genius.” The others nodded.
Maggie pointed to the article. “It’s all in here and it starts with structure:
I am your corporal. You are my privates. When you each recruit five people, I will become sergeant and you will each be advanced to corporal. When your privates each recruit five, they will be corporals, you will be sergeants, and I will be your lieutenant. Then captain, then major, then Colonel, and General etc—so long as you five allow me to lead.”
“Allow you?” asked Mike.
“Yeah,” said Maggie. “That’s the genius of Blue Key. If you guys all decide I’m screwing up, you can vote me out. And one of you moves up.”
“And what happens to you?”
“I either leave or I take demotion and replace the person who replaces me. I rejoin the unit as one of you. Leadership for only as long as allowed. The goal is nurture-culture instead of cancel-culture. So that means maybe I learn whatever lesson needs to be learned and eventually gain a chance to lead again. It’s great.”
“Okay. So what do we have to do?” asked Sherry. “I mean, it’s not like we’re a real army.”
“We start with a plan,” Maggie began. “What do we want to do? What do we need? How do we get it? How many people do we need to execute the plan? Unlike protests, we decide what we are doing, we devise a plan. We assess our needs, we refine, we train. We execute. Rinse and repeat.”
Within hours, the group had agreed on a plan. Their mission was to solve the homeless problem in Portland Oregon. They decided they needed
Security
Shelter
Food
Job Training
Medical Services—especially mental health services.
Brad, who had experience in security and a lot of friends in security, took on the role of security.
Mike volunteered for shelter. He had some ideas.
Theresa had been Maggie’s deputy at the food bank, so she gladly took over food.
Erin, a school guidance counselor took over job training.
And Sherry, a nurse by trade, volunteered to be in charge of Medical.
Finally the elephant in the room found a voice. “Where are we going to get all the money for all of this?” asked Sherry.
Maggie reached for her cup of black coffee and sat back in her chair. She paused and smiled. “Have you guys ever seen Robin Hood?”
Chapter 2: Eight Weeks Later
“Hey!” shouted Mike! “We made the news again!” Major Maggie Stone stepped into the tiny office where her unit was gathered around a screen.
“A strange robbery at a local Home Depot today leaves authorities baffled and a neighborhood on high alert. This after a rash of similar incidents recently at local grocery stores and food warehouses. Our own Cagney O’ Sullivan is live on the scene with the story.”
Maggie looked back over her shoulder at the huge haul of building supplies in the old warehouse and smiled. Mission accomplished.
The idea to take over the abandoned warehouse had been Mike’s. 200,000 square feet of yesteryear forgotten by time and abandoned by business. Boarded up still, the next phase of the mission would change all of that. For now, Maggie clapped a hand on Brad’s back. “Good Job, Captain,” she said.
Earlier in the day, Brad and his Lieutenants, advised by Erin’s team, had led his battalion—-one fifth of the total forces—-in a raid that had procured the necessary materials for the remodeling of the old warehouse. He had split his forces into 5 logistical teams:
Loading
Unloading
Transportation
Procurement
Security
The plan had worked flawlessly. Prior to the raid, the security team had done reconnaissance to learn where the surveillance office was, where all the cameras were placed, devised a plan to render them inoperable, learned where each item they needed was to be found in the store, located all the entrances and exits, and had taken the time to befriend and recruit several of the store’s own security guards.
Maggie's team had learned early on that like themselves, a lot of other working class Americans were tired of the broken system, too, and a lot of previously law-abiding citizens were more than happy to pledge loyalty, their lives, and their sacred honor. Maggie’s army had grown quickly. Quietly. And now their movements were making headlines—though nobody yet knew who the mysterious bandits were.
Brad’s battalion—780 of them— had worked together and pulled off a perfect raid. The exercise from start to finish had taken less than 20 minutes. By the time police arrived, only a small crew of disinformation specialists who stayed behind to act as “witnesses” for police reports, remained. The first trucks, which were at that moment still being wiped down and abandoned throughout the city, had already been unloaded at the warehouse.
The team dispersed as Erin began barking orders to her lieutenants. The building materials were not going to utilize themselves. And her people were anxious to fulfill their part of the mission.
Maggie looked out at the bustling activity in the warehouse and took a deep breath. The police didn’t know who was behind this yet, but a blow had been struck and she knew they would be getting a less than friendly knock on the door soon. It was just a matter of time.
Chapter 3: Ten days later
Officer Jake Riley sat in his patrol car eating his pastrami and Swiss on rye and tried not to eavesdrop as his partner Brian argued with his ex-wife over who should pay for summer camp for their kids. He took a swig from his bottle of soda and reached for his clipboard. He checked off their last task and then looked to see what was next.
An abandoned warehouse out in the port district. Jake sighed. More than likely some homeless squatters or some junkies. He didn’t know why the city didn’t just tear down these old buildings. It’s not like anyone was ever gonna use them again. The property owners at most of these places had either vanished or else used the depreciation for tax shelters. Either way, Jake was tired of “taking a look” every time some neighbor or local business owner saw a shadow moving.
He looked at his watch and nudged his partner.
Brian turned his attention toward Jake.
Jake pointed at the item on his clipboard before putting the car in gear and turning on his left signal.
Brian nodded.
Jake stepped on the gas pedal and pulled away from the curb.
“You’re gonna have to scream at me some more later,” said Brian into his phone. “I have to go earn your support payment now.”
From Jake’s seat it didn’t look like Brian had bothered to wait for an answer. He just clicked a button and ended the call.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Brian muttered.
Jake laughed. “Trouble at home? I thought divorcing her was supposed to be the end of all that.”
Brian grunted. “Yeah. Apparently that was wishful thinking. So we’re heading out to the old Ferguson & Schmidt Warehouse?”
Jake shrugged. “Yeah. Probably some homeless people or crackheads broke in or something. Same as always.”
He made a left on Elm Street and continued to drive.
Across town, at that very warehouse, in that same moment, Colonel Maggie Stone walked through the facility while Major Erin Dempsey reported what was happening in the various newly built rooms. The smell of mold and dust had been replaced by the smell of fresh paint, new floors, and life. Somewhere to the left of her, a barber’s clippers clattered. In several rooms were groups of people engaged in conversations behind doors with signs printed on them asking for quiet— as therapy groups were in session. An elderly woman sat in the waiting room of another office marked “dentist.” The smells of pizza and the clinking of dishes came from a nearby cafeteria. And in front of her loomed a bustling office marked “medical services,” where a team of nurses was busy triaging a large group of homeless patients.
Sherry joined them.
“I don’t know how on earth you all did this in 10 days,” said Maggie. “It was easy,” said Erin, pulling out her well worn copy of the Blue Key Democracy article. “Planning. Structure. Determination. We didn’t start building a week ago. We started the day you gave me my job—that day back at Denny’s.”
Sherry nodded.
It was true. All five members of Maggie’s team had started with precision planning and trained their recruits accordingly. Just like a real army, when the job was to do the job instead of cutting through a sea of red tape and bureaucratic hold ups, things moved pretty quickly. By now, a lot of their army was made up of the homeless themselves.
“The bigger problem, Colonel,” Erin said, “Is we’re running out of room. We’re gonna need more space and we’re gonna’ need it soon.”
“I told Mike that very thing this morning. I can’t believe no one has tried to shut us down yet.”
Sherry smiled “Let ‘em try,” she said. “We’re ready.”
Chapter 4: Fifteen Minutes Later
“What can I do for you, officers?” asked Maggie.
“Well, ma’am,” said Jake, “to be honest, I’m just trying to figure out what’s happening here.”
He pointed to his clipboard.
“According to our records, this building is abandoned.”
“Yes. It was,” said Maggie. “Does it look abandoned now?”
Jake and Brian shook their heads. “No. We’re just…”
“You’re just what?” asked Maggie.
“Ma’am. I’m sorry to ask this. We just have to be able to show our superiors that everything is okay here. Can I just get a look at your permits?”
“My permits?” asked Maggie.
“Yes, ma’am. We don’t want to keep bothering you. We just have to be able to show our boss something so they stop sending us out here for no reason. You get what I’m saying?”
“Oh, for sure,” said Maggie.
A group of Brad’s security officers began to gather on the perimeter. Maggie motioned to Brad, who then motioned to one of his deputies, who then motioned the men to stand down, but stay present.
Maggie turned to one of the security men. “Will you go into my office and get me a copy of the US Constitution for these officers?” she said. “There is a stack of them on the filing cabinet behind my desk.”
“Yes Ma’am,” replied the young man.
He returned a minute later and handed her the copy which she then handed to Jake.
“My permit is right there at the front,” she said.
Jake sucked in a deep breath and opened the pamphlet. The officers seemed confused, so Maggie explained.
“See that part where it says ‘We the people?’” Maggie asked.
“What about it?” asked Jake.
“Well that’s our permission. The government is here on our authority. Not the other way around. They need permits. We do not.”
He tried to hand her back the constitution. She did not take it.
“That’s not how any of this works, Ma’am. The state of Oregon has—-“
“Oh. Would you like a copy of the Oregon State Constitution as well, Officer?”
Jake shook his head. “No. I’m sorry Ma’am. That’s not what I mean. I—-“
Maggie interrupted him. “Officer, I know what you mean, and I do not have any of the permits you have been taught to ask for, but you’re still not going to shut us down. We’re not going to let you.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. This doesn’t work that way.”
“It does now, Officer.”
“Can I at least see your rental agreement?”
“We don’t have one.”
“What do you mean you don’t have one?”
“I mean not all squatters are the same,” said Maggie.
“Well,” said Jake, “if you’re a squatter, you can’t be here.”
“And yet, here I am,” said Maggie.
She signaled the men to step on a little closer to the officers.
She continued.
“Over the last month would you say you have seen more or fewer homeless people on the streets of Portland.”
“That doesn’t matter, ma'am,” said Jake.
“On the contrary, Officer, it matters a great deal. It’s the whole point. This city has been trying to fight the homeless problem for decades and it has only yielded more homeless. We give them shelter. We give them food. We give them a place to shower, access to grooming and medical and vision and dentistry help. We give them counseling and we medicate them according to their needs. We give them job training and we keep them off of your streets. How’s your plan been working out?”
“I don’t have a plan,” started Jake. “Ma’am I just—-.”
“Officer, you just hit the nail on the head,” she interrupted. “You don’t have a plan. We do. Our plan is working. Soon we will be taking over another abandoned facility too. We’re running out of room here.”
Brian spoke up. “Where exactly are you getting the money for all of this?”
“We’re not,” said Maggie, who was simultaneously wondering if Jake and Brian had learned to talk this way at the academy or if they were just peas in the same pod. They were interchangeable.
“You’re not?” asked Jake.
Maggie shook her head. “We take what we need and we use it. We figure the government and big business broke the social contract—even elected a felon. So we’re not bound by your so-called laws anymore. When the law is designed to hurt people, we don’t feel we have to partake in your plan anymore.”
“Who told you that?” asked Brian.
“Thomas Jefferson,” retorted Maggie. “John Adams. Thomas Paine. The First Continental Congress. James Madison. Shall I go on?”
“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” said Jake. “We’re shutting you down.”
Maggie gestured for the security officers to take one step forward. As efficiently as soldiers performing drills, they did. “I don’t see that happening,” said Maggie.
“What you’re doing here is illegal,” said Jake.
“So is what you’re attempting to do,” replied Maggie. “These people needed help. We are giving it to them.”
“Ma’am, if I have to call for backup, we will be arresting you.”
She nodded with a smile. “So you think you will cut off the head to smite the beast? Is that about right, officer?”
Jake shrugged “something like that.”
“It won’t work,” Maggie said. “I’m disposable. Before you even have me in the car, Someone will already have taken my place. You can’t exactly arrest 20,000 of us.”
“You don’t have 20,000 people here.”
“No, but I can have them here in 10 minutes. Would you like me to prove that, officer?”
Jake looked around the room at what were now several dozen resolute faces before replying. “That won’t be necessary.”
Maggie turned to one of the men standing nearby. “Next to the copies of the constitution on my filing cabinet is a stack of pamphlets marked “Blue Key,” she said. “Can you please bring me two copies?”
The man hurried into the office and in short order brought out the requested items. On Maggie’s orders, he gave one to each officer.
“My men mean you no harm,” she said. “They will protect me if provoked, but we’re trying to help the community. Not harm it.”
She gestured toward the door. “Take those with you. And before you go back to your precinct to ask your captain what to do about us, take a drive around the area—especially the inner city areas. See if you see anything different from usual happening.”
With that, Colonel Maggie Stone resolutely turned, walked back to her office, and shut the door.
Brad stepped forward “I’m Major Brad Sweeney,” he said. “I’ll show you two gentlemen to your car.”
The two officers seemed not to know how to proceed so they followed.
Once outside and safely in their car, Brian let out a low whistle. “What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know,” said Jake. “But I am gonna’ drive around and have a look to see what she meant. Then we’re gonna read her pamphlet and see what we’re really up against. Cults scare the shit out of me.”
Chapter 5: The Next Day
The mayor’s face flushed so red the commissioner thought he might have a stroke right there in the office. He stood up, angrily flailing his arms.
“I don’t give a good god damn if they make it possible to eat right off the street in every mother fucking nook and cranny of this city,” screamed the mayor. “And I don’t care about their so-called force of 20,000. I know that Maggie woman! I met her once. She’s no one. She ran a nothing food pantry before this. There’s no way a woman like that built a force of 20,000 under our noses without us knowing anything about it. She’s lying!”
He sat down behind his mahogany desk once more and loosened his tie.
“I don’t think she is, sir. We have been out, looking. You won’t see garbage or graffiti anywhere in this city. They’re cleaning it up,” replied the police chief.
“Who is ‘they?’”
“The Blue Key people.”
“Arrest them!”
“For what? Cleaning the place up?”
The mayor sat back in his chair and replied. “No.”
He sat brooding. For a few minutes, no one talked.
Suddenly the mayor picked up a book from his desk and threw it against a wall with all his might.
“FUCK!” he screamed.
He sat back down. Again, no one spoke.
Again, it was the mayor who spoke first. He turned to the police chief.
“You said they were not violent? Just threatening?”
The chief nodded. “The officers on scene said there were not even spoken threats. Just implied. In fact they said everyone was actually quite polite.”
The mayor nodded. “Good. I don’t want David Koresh’s Waco on my hands.”
He thought again for a moment.
“Okay. They said they can get 20,000 people there in 10 minutes. Let’s see what they’ve really got. Send 500 officers over there. Nobody does anything without your explicit say so. Are we clear?”
The chief nodded. “You should come with us sir. I think this may be a big deal.”
The mayor nodded. “Get your people together.”
“And then what?”
“And then, if they have 20,000 like that woman says, we leave and regroup. If not, we arrest her ass and everyone else while we’re at it.”
“That will work, sir,” said the chief.
“And make sure your officers understand exactly what we’re doing. No hotshot stuff. Give them all a copy of her manifesto if you want. I need this resolved. Let’s not let it get out of hand. Are we clear?”
“Yessir,” replied the chief.
“Let me know when it’s going down. I’ll be there.”
Chapter 6: Nine Days Later
It was actually nine days before the weather worked out. When Maggie awoke to sunshine peeking through the blinds of her now re-enforced barred windows, she knew this would be the day. She and Brad had been planning for it; training for it.
The one thing everyone knew for certain: The police weren’t done with them. When Maggie’s army had split off part of each team to protect and grow a third facility, the group had inadvertently made headlines. A MAGA-supportive reporter from a local news affiliate ran a story on Blue Key Democracy, calling them “terrorists” and highlighting other Blue Key armies that had been sprouting up around the country.
A group of farmers in California had formed a Blue Key army of their own with their own ranking system. They refused to honor their contracts with grocery store chains —opting instead to sell their crops directly to consumers at a cut rate. Once costs were covered, they started a program to makes sure poor families were getting what they needed.
A Blue Key army had formed in Texas and was providing food and medicine and healthcare for elderly and disabled patients who had been hurt by the regime’s cuts to medicare and social security.
A group of doctors had formed an army to protect women’s reproductive rights, regardless of the law. It had gotten violent when police and MAGA volunteers had tried to shut down a clinic. There were arrests, including top leadership. A few people were killed in a standoff, but the clinic and the army had made it through because the structure held and the mission continued the way it was designed, with new leaders automatically stepping in where the arrested leaders had left off and continuing the mission.
All over the country, citizens were forming their own blue key activism armies. Some were successful. Some less so, but they were making an impact in both red and blue states.
Even some conservatives came together in Wisconsin to form their own Blue Key Army to feed MAGA poor hurt by the regime. They called themselves “Red Key,” but it was the same concept. They didn’t trust their people would be helped by the “lefty commie armies” sprouting up around them.
A group of teachers formed a Blue Key Army to keep teaching kids the things the regime had banned.
Nobody got permits. Nobody got permission. They weren’t registered with anyone. They just found 5 friends they trusted, made a plan and went to work. Completely decentralized Democracy. Truly government of, for, and by the people.
But when the reporter called them terrorists, Maggie knew her army must stay peaceful unless forced not to be and she instilled that in her unit who in turn instilled it into each of theirs.
So when hundreds of police cars roared up to their warehouse and surrounded them, nobody reached for a weapon. Most of her people didn’t even stop working. Brad sent out the text message to sound the alarm and within 15 minutes of the police and mayor showing up, so did thousands of Maggie's Army. They did not clash. They formed a circle—surrounding the police that surrounded the building.
When this was accomplished, Maggie walked outside to a podium one of her people had placed for her. She stepped to the microphone and said, “Welcome Mr Mayor. Perhaps we can talk in my office.” She eyed the police chief. “You can come too if you like, Chief.”
There was no response.
Maggie smiled warmly. She continued.
“We have you as surrounded as you have our building. It seems we’re both in a pickle. Come have lunch. I asked the cook to make us something special. And I’ll show you around the facility. I promise. It will all be just fine. You’re safe here.”
The pair acquiesced. The crowd surrounding Maggie parted and the mayor and police chief made their way through the crowd. The men remained stone-faced and silent while Maggie walked them through the facility—a handpicked press pool in tow.
Maggie didn’t crave the spotlight so had tried her best to keep their story out of the press, but she had been smart enough to enlist press of her own for this occasion.
She knew this was the time—her time to prove that Blue Key Democracy was no danger to the country. Blue Key Democracy was saving it. Neither man said a word as she explained, room by room, what they were doing to eradicate homelessness in the city. And when the press pool had been dismissed, they sat down to eat. She implored the mayor to speak.
“Mr Mayor. I have been talking this whole time. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
The mayor looked at the large pile of rotisserie chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, carrots, corn on the cob, and other food presented.
“I assume you didn’t pay for any of that,” he said.
Maggie smiled. “People need to eat.”
The mayor huffed a half-laugh aloud and reached for a plate which he then began to fill liberally. The police chief did the same. “You’re a criminal,” muttered the mayor, matter-of-factly.
“So are you,” said Maggie with just as much conviction. The mayor let out an audible laugh.
The chief spoke up.
“I assume your group was responsible for the Home Depot robbery; the various grocery robberies and the like?”
Maggie nodded. “Let me ask you something, Chief. Which link in a chain is the one that ruins the whole chain?”
“The weak one” both men said at once.
“I love this city. I want this city to be strong—to thrive,” said Maggie.
“And you think we don’t?” asked the mayor.
“Who do you think are the weakest links in any city?” asked Maggie.
“Criminals,” said the chief, without a moment of hesitation.
The mayor stayed silent.
“I think crime is mostly born of necessity,” said Maggie.
The chief chortled. “Well of course you think that,” he said, gesturing around them.
Maggie winked and continued. “The weakest links in any city, or for that matter in any state, the country, or even the world are the people who are stuck in poverty, mental illness, depression, and emotional trauma—all the things that make it impossible for them to help themselves.”
“What are you getting at?” asked the mayor.
“The government’s job isn’t to protect the home supply warehouse or grocery store. It’s to protect people who need protection—who need help. People who would not now be functional if my Blue Key army had not stepped in to your job for you.”
“Government can’t do all this,” the mayor retorted. “Be reasonable.”
“Nonsense,” said Maggie. “I did it and I had nothing.”
“You stole it all.”
“And so your premise is that the government never steals?” asked Maggie.
Neither man spoke.
The room was completely silent save the sound of Maggie enjoying a piece of chicken just a touch too loudly for such a formal occasion.
Finally the mayor spoke again. “You’re going to have to stop stealing what you think you need.”
“Then you’re going to have to start getting me what I need,” said Maggie.
“Impossible,” the mayor said at once.
Maggie said nothing.
The mayor stared her down. Maggie didn’t blink.
After a long pause, the mayor said “Alright fine. But you people need to pay back what you stole.”
“That’s not going to happen either, Mr. Mayor,” said Maggie.
Again, they held each other’s gaze, each stubbornly waiting for the other blink. Again the mayor acquiesced.
“You call me ‘Mr. Mayor’ like I have any power left here,” he whined in frustration.
“You do,” Maggie said. You have a lot more power than me. But these people—my army. I have their trust, I have some sway over what happens with the poor and the hungry in our city. But you still run this city.”
“Do I, though?” he asked wryly.
Maggie smiled. “You do, Mr. Mayor,” she replied softly.
He held his hand out. She shook it.
“You know,” he said. “I hope you never decide to come for my job.”
“Well, do your job right, Mr. Mayor, and I won’t have to,” Maggie said with a wink as she led her guests back to the podium to announce they’d made a deal.
Author’s Note:
The preceding story was fiction. But it doesn’t have to be. Blue Key Democracy can change your city, your state, your country, and even your world. Learn how it works at bluekeydemocracy.com.
Then, decide your mission, find your five and make the world you want to live in. They broke the social contract. We’re in charge now—no matter who says otherwise. The FIND OUT phase starts NOW!
Love it