An Election: A Short Story Presented by Subterranean Press

Subterranean Press is proud to present an election-oriented short story by John Scalzi here on Whatever. For the full details on why Subterranean Press is presenting the story on the author’s own blog, click here. Otherwise, enjoy the story!

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by John Scalzi

David Sawyer walked into the kitchen of his townhouse and thrust his tablet at his husband James.

“I’m running for city council,” he said.

James neither took the tablet nor looked up from his coffee and toast. “The elections were last month,” he said. “And we already have a councilman. Please inform those responsible for maintaining your information bubble that they are falling down on the job.”

“We had a councilman,” David said. “Note the tense.” He thrust the tablet at James again.

James took it, frowning. “Councilman Krugg is dead? When did that happen?”

“Last night,” David said. “He’s been molting and he went out before his new carapace stiffened up. Was talking on his phone and not paying attention and walked in front of a bus. They say the death was instant.”

“And messy,” James said, glancing at the picture accompanying the story.

“He should have stayed off the streets until his carapace grew in,” David said.

“When you walk in front of a bus I don’t think a full suit of chitin is going to help you much,” James said. “As a general rule when it’s a city bus versus any biological creature, it’s safe to bet on the bus.”

“The point is,” David said, “Krugg’s seat is now open.” He leaned over and pointed at the news story on the tablet. “They’re going to hold a special election in three weeks so the winner can serve the full term. And I’m going to run.”

James glanced over. “You’re going to run? Isn’t this one of those things where spouses have a discussion about the pros and cons?”

“We’re discussing it now,” David said.

“You bounding into the kitchen and saying ‘I’m going to run,’ while I’m eating breakfast doesn’t actually constitute a discussion, you know,” James said. “It’s the opening scene of a situation comedy.” He slurped his coffee.

“Do you object to me running?” David said.

“No—” James began.

“Well, then,” David said.

“But I think we need to have an expectations management discussion,” James finished. “Because, my love, you have no chance of winning.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” David said.

“No?” James said. “Tell me. Which city council district do we live in?”

“The third,” David said.

“And what do we know about the demographics of the third district?” James asked.

“It’s a human-minority district,” David said. “I know—”

James held up his hand. “How long has it been since a human councilperson held the third district seat?”

“It’s been a few election cycles,” David admitted.

“A few?” James asked.

David threw up his hands. “Fine. It’s been forty-four years,” he said.

“And, since I know you’ll know this, because it’s the sort of political geek you are,” James said, “how long has it been since a human even ran for the third district seat?”

“Thirty-six years,” David said.

“So you weren’t even alive the last time it happened,” James said.

“I’ll be thirty-six in five weeks,” David said.

There’s a relevant bit of information,” James said, and slurped some more coffee.

“So you think I shouldn’t run,” David said, after a second.

“I think it’s fine if you run,” James said, setting down his mug. “You’ve been wanting to get elected to public office for as long as I’ve known you. God knows why, but you do. I just want you to go into this with the understanding that the term ‘underdog,’ probably overstates your chances. You’re more like an ‘underamoeba.’ And I need you to know this because you’re intolerable when you lose.”

“That’s not true,” David said.

“Student body treasurer race,” James said.

“Oh, come on,” David said. “Totally not fair. That was fifteen years ago. I was twenty.”

“And you almost didn’t make it to twenty-one, because I swear to God I was going to smother you with a pillow,” James said. “You don’t know how close your mopey ass came to death.”

“That election was poorly run, anyway,” David said. “I know some of the fraternities voted twice.”

“Tell me you do hear the words that are coming out of your mouth right now,” James said.

“All right, fine,” David said, and held out his right hand. “I, David Sawyer, do solemnly swear not to be a pain in the ass if I lose this election.”

“‘When I lose this election,’” James said.

“I could win, you know,” David said.

“Say it,” James said.

David sighed. “When I lose this election. There, I’ve said it.”

“Thank you,” James said, and reached for his coffee again.

“I could use a campaign manager,” David said.

“Student body treasurer race,” James said.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you,” David said.

“Not if we live to a hundred,” James said, and finished his coffee.


“I’m here to file my candidacy for the third district council seat,” David said, pushing the paperwork, the filing fee and the hundred required signatures at the city hall clerk.

The clerk blinked at least two of her eyes at this. “The third district,” she said.

“That’s right,” David said, and smiled.

“You live there,” she said. “You live there and actually look around at the people on the street who live there with you.”

“I do,” David said, and tapped the papers. “Everything’s in order.”

The clerk glanced down at the small pile David provided her, looked back up at David, and then did what David supposed was the equivalent of a shrug. “All right,” she said, taking the papers. “We’ll take a look at these today. If you don’t hear from us by noon tomorrow, you can assume there are no issues and you can begin campaigning. There will be a candidate’s debate here at City Hall in two weeks; if you haven’t dropped out of the race by then you may participate. We’ll mail you all the details. Do you have a campaign manager?”

David glanced back at James, who had accompanied him to the clerk’s office. The two of them were the only people in the office other than the clerk and another woman at a side desk, filling out a form. “I’m still putting together my team,” he said, turning back to the clerk.

“Uh-huh,” the clerk said. “Well, if you get one, let us know so we can forward the debate information to them, too.”

“Has anyone else declared yet?” David asked. Behind him he heard the door of the office open.

“Three so far, plus you,” the clerk said. “We’ll probably get at least one more. Anything else, Mr. Sawyer?”

“No, I think that’s it,” David said.

“Then good luck,” the clerk said.

“Thank you,” David said. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to live in the third district, would you?”

The clerk rolled at least three of her eyes. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Don’t.”

“Fair enough,” David said, holding his hands up. He backed away from the clerk’s station, stepping on something squishy as he did so. He turned around to see a large pink gelatinous mass, holding a briefcase. David was stepping on one of the gelatin’s pseudopods.

“Whoops,” David said, and moved his foot.

From the inside the gelatin at mass of bubbles formed, rising to the surface to make a series of pops and squeaks that sounded suspiciously like language.

“I’m sorry,” David said. “I don’t speak…” he almost said I don’t speak bubble, but stopped himself in time.

“He’s asking if he heard correctly that you are running for the third district seat,” said the woman at the side desk.

“Oh!” David said. “Yes, I am. I’m David Sawyer.” He held out his hand to the gelatin. “If you live in the third district I hope you’ll consider me for your vote.”

The gelatin did not take his hand and instead snapped out another series of bubbles. David looked over to the woman again. “Could I get you to translate again?” he asked.

The woman set down the pen she was using and walked over to David and the gelatin. “He’s saying that he won’t be voting for you because he’s running against you.” More bubbles. “He also says that you are foolish to consider running in the third when it’s obvious you don’t know much about the district.”

“Hey, now,” David said. “There are at least a dozen languages spoken in the third. Not knowing his doesn’t mean I don’t know the district.”

“I think he’s suggesting that you should know who he is,” the woman said. By this time the gelatin had oozed around David and piled himself up at the clerk’s desk. He opened his briefcase and got out his filing papers.

“Who is he?” David asked.

“That’s Touie Touie,” the woman said. “He’s been Councilman Krugg’s chief of staff for the last fifteen years.”

“Who are you?” David asked.

“I’m Latasha Jenkins,” she said. “I’m a grad student in xenorelations at the university.” She pointed at Touie. “I’m here to apply for an internship in his office.”

“He’s not councilman yet,” David said.

“In fact he is,” Latasha said. “The mayor made him acting councilman today, pending the election. And he’s the odds-on favorite in the election. He’s already got the endorsement of the mayor and the three other council members. You should actually know this. I know this, and I’m just applying for an internship.”

“I can do better than an internship,” David said. “You say you know what’s going on. Okay. I agree. So how about you becoming my campaign manager?”

“You don’t have one?” Latasha said.

“I’m still putting together my team,” David said. “It’s a real grassroots effort.”

“There’s a euphemism for it,” Latasha said. “You’re aware that there hasn’t been a human councilperson in the third for half a century, right?”

“Actually, it’s only been forty four years,” David said.

“Right,” Latasha said. “You know, I think I’m going to go back and finish my internship application now. Nice to meet you.” She turned to go but then Touie Touie had oozed back up to the two of them, and was popping off a new series of bubbles.

“I was just telling him how I was applying for an internship to your office,” Latasha said, to Touie. This precipitated more bubbles.

“What’s he saying?” David asked.

“Quiet,” Latasha said and turned her attention back to Touie. After a bit she nodded. Touie oozed out the door.

“What was that about?” David asked.

“Okay, I’ll be your campaign manager,” Latasha said.

“Wait,” David said. “What? I thought you were applying for an internship.”

“Mr. Touie said that he’s putting the internship positions on hold until after the special election,” Latasha said. “He said it wouldn’t be fair for whoever won to be given interns selected by a different staff. So now I have some free time on my hands, and I still need to do some sort of community service for my masters’ program. You’re running in the third district, so it’s possible you’ll qualify.”

“I can’t really pay you,” David said.

“Yeah, I got that vibe from you already,” Latasha said. “Look, once I clear it with my program, just give me a document attesting to my community service and we’ll be fine. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” David said, and held out his hand. Latasha shook it, and then let out a whoof of air as David dragged her over to where James was sitting, reading a book.

“Look, James,” he said. “Our new campaign manager.”

James looked up from his book to Latasha. “I apologize in advance for the next three weeks,” James said to her.

Latasha grinned. “You part of the campaign?” she asked.

“It’s worse than that,” James said. “I’m the husband.”

“Oh, no,” Latasha said.

“Stop it, both of you,” David said, and then turned to Latasha. “So what should we do first?”

“The first thing we do is go back to the clerk and get as much voter information as we can,” Latasha said. “Because I can tell we’re going to need it.”


“Okay, now, whose door is this?” Latasha asked.

“It’s the door of Norsen Hurken,” David said, impatiently. He was bundled up against the cold and was holding flyers and stickers in his hands.

“And she’s a what?” Latasha asked.

“A Gherkin,” David said.

“No,” Latasha said. “A gherkin is a tiny pickle. She’s a Hegurchin. These are two separate things.”

“You know, it might be cold, but my frozen ears can still register sarcasm,” David said.

“You hired me to be your campaign manager,” Latasha reminded him. “Part of my job is to give you information which will help you make your case to voters. Part of your job is to actually listen to me. For example, when you talk to a Hegurchin—”

“I’m kind of freezing out here,” David said. “I’d really like not to have to go over stuff we’ve already gone over in the warm, out here in the cold. Instead, I’d like to go talk to these voters so that I can get back to my house some time before frostbite sets in.”

Latasha glanced over to James, standing slightly off to one side. He shrugged. “Okay,” Latasha said. “Remember, the name here is Norsen Hurken. You can also call her Ms. Norsen. Go get ‘em, killer.” She thumped David on the back in encouragement as he walked toward the door.

“So, what critical piece of information is he missing about Hegurchins?” James asked, as David walked up the porch stairs.

“Wait for it,” Latasha said.

From their vantage point, they watched as David rang the doorbell and a tall creature with an array of facial tentacles opened the door. There the low murmur of David’s voice, followed by an undulating cry from the creature. The face tentacles extended straight out and then wrapped around David’s head, pulling him into an intimate embrace.

“Oh, nice,” James said. Latasha smiled.

Two minutes later David stomped his way back to his campaign manager. “I was not informed there would be suckers,” he said, accusingly.

“Well, you seemed to be in a hurry,” Latasha said, mildly. “Wanting to get in out of the cold and all.”

“I get it,” David said. “Point taken.”

“I think those suckers gave you a rash,” James said, looking at David’s face.

“Don’t you start,” David said, and then touched his face where the suckers had landed.

“Do you want me to tell you about the Svorszens?” Latasha said. “They’re Cmuufs. They’re next on the list.”

“Do Cmuufs have suckers?” David asked.

“Not unless they’ve had some really interesting grafts,” Latasha said.

The Svorszens were graft-free, and appeared delighted—inasmuch as their faces could register any sort of emotion at all—to meet David. “Finally, someone who might actually do something about the aliens,” said Mrs. Svorszen.

“The aliens,” David said, face carefully blank.

“Yes, the aliens,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “They’re ruining the neighborhood.”

“What a mess,” Mr. Svorszen said. “Their spawn run around everywhere.”

“They make these noises like you wouldn’t believe,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “Keep us up half the night.”

“Don’t forget the smells,” Mr. Svorszen said.

“Oh, God, the smells,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “They say it’s just their cooking. And I say to myself, I don’t make you smell what I cook for dinner. Close your damn windows.”

“But this is what happens when you let anyone live anywhere,” Mr. Svorszen said.

“I don’t even think they’re in the country legally,” Mrs. Svorszen said.

“We complained to Councilman Krugg about it, but he said some nonsense about plurality and everyone making everyone else welcome,” Mr. Svorszen said. “And I said, sure. But you have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “You start letting everyone in and then it’s a slide into chaos. We’ve lived here in the third district all our lives and it’s never been this bad.”

“You have to have standards,” Mr. Svorszen said.

“We’re not bigots,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “We just think they should go back to live with their own kind.”

“In Canada,” Mr. Svorszen said.

“Canada,” David said, after a moment.

“Yes,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “That’s where they said they were from.” She turned to her husband. “Calgary is in Canada still.”

“Far as I know,” Mr. Svorszen said.

“They have a whole country to let their spawn run around in, and to make noise in, and to cook horrible things in,” Mrs. Svorszen said. “I don’t see why they need to do it here. Tell us you’ll work on this problem, and you’ve got our vote.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” David said.

“Wonderful,” Mr. Svorszen said. “We’ll take a sticker.”

“Wow, that jammed the cheap irony meter right into the red,” James said, after the Svorszens had closed their door. After the incident at the Norsen house David had insisted James and Latasha be within tentacle range at all future stops.

“I can’t believe I promised to investigate Canadians,” David said. “I didn’t mean to say that. It just sort of came out.”

“Welcome to politics,” Latasha said, looking at her papers. “I would expect they’re talking about the Andersens. They live two doors down.”

“And to be fair, I do think I smell cabbage,” James said.

“Should we go back to your house for some torches?” Latasha asked.

“Can we just keep moving, please?” David asked, plaintively.

At the next house, a small and mousy Blidden named Fuin Suh answered the door.

“Hello,” David said. “I’m David Sawyer, and I’m running for the third district council seat. Can I talk to you about my platform?”

“Oh, yes, please,” said Fuin. “And I will also talk to you. About your soul. And how it is forfeit to the spears of the Penetrating Gods.”

“I’m sorry,” David said. “I’m not a follower of your religion.”

“That’s the best part!” Fuin said. “You don’t have to be! You’ll still be impaled! Isn’t it wonderful. Come in, come in.” Fuin looked past David to James and Latasha. “You don’t mind if I borrow this nice young man for a few moments, do you?”

“Will we get him back unimpaled?” James asked.

“At this time, yes,” Fuin said.

“Then by all means,” James said.

“I couldn’t possibly come in without my friends,” David said.

“Don’t be silly,” Latasha said. “This is a special moment for you and a constituent. We’ll just wait here on the porch. You have fun now.”

I hate you both, David mouthed silently as Fuin took his hand and pulled him into the house.

“This is a lot more fun than I was expecting,” James said, to Latasha, as the door closed.


“Well, the local news just did a poll,” Latasha said, walking up to David, who was descending from the city hall stage where the evening’s debate would be held. The hall was beginning to fill up voters, press and political lackeys.

“Tell me I’m not in last place,” David said. He sounded tired, because he was. Two weeks of walking the district for votes had worn him out.

“You are in fact not in last place,” Latasha said. “Of the five candidates for the third district council seat, you are fourth. You are two tenths of a percentage point ahead of Nukka Farn Mu.”

“Remind me which one he is again,” David said.

“He’s the one whose entire platform is that we should be allowed to eat our neighbors’ pets,” Latasha said.

David rubbed his forehead. “So after two weeks I’m just barely ahead of the pet-eater,” he said.

“Yes,” Latasha said. “Although in the interests of complete honesty I have to tell you that the poll has a three percent margin of error.”

“So it’s possible I could actually be two point eight percentage points behind him,” David said.

“Well, no,” Latasha said. “You’ve only got one point six percent of the vote.”

“How the hell did he get the hundred signatures to get on the ballot, anyway?” David asked.

“How did you?” Latasha asked.

“I gave away cookies in front of the supermarket,” David said.

“Maybe he did the same thing,” Latasha said. “Just with cat jerky.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” David said, to Latasha.

“Look,” Latasha said, nodding toward the door. “Here comes Touie Touie.” The two of them watched as the interim councilman sludged his way toward the stage, followed by an entourage.

“Dare I ask what his poll numbers are?” David said.

“Ninety percent,” Latasha said. “Although remember they could in reality be as low as eighty-seven percent.”

“I think I need a nap,” David said.

“No time,” Latasha said. “The other thing I need to tell you is that I now have the notes for the debate. The moderator is going to introduce you all and each of you is going to have a minute for your opening statements, followed by questions from the moderator, for which you will again each have one minute. For the introductory statement, they’ll be going from right to left on stage, which means you’ll be going fourth.”

“Are we going by poll rankings?” David asked, bitterly.

“No, they’re putting you between the two Lideh candidates,” Latasha said. “They’re sisters, and apparently they hate each others’ guts. I think they’re hoping that by putting you between them you’ll keep them from having a brawl on the stage.”

“Any idea why they hate each other?” David asked.

“Sibling rivalry needs a reason?” Latasha said. “Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No,” David said.

“When I was twelve, I cut the brakes on my sister’s bike on her birthday,” Latasha said. “And she deserved it.”

“I’m not sure I need to know this,” David said.

“The irony was that our parents got her a new bike for her birthday and gave me her old bike as a hand-me-down,” Latasha said. “And then they wanted to go for a family ride together. I plowed right into a parked car as I came down off a hill. Broke my arm in three places. Trini laughed her ass off at that.”

“Latasha,” David said.

“I got her back, though,” Latasha said. “Believe that.”

“I think I want you to resign,” David said. “You’re beginning to make me nervous.”

“Don’t be silly, that was years ago,” Latasha said. “My point was that even they probably don’t know why they hate each other. They just do. So you get to be the heat sink between them. It’ll be fine. Now, you remember what you’re not going to talk about in your introductory statement?”

“I won’t talk about being a human in the race,” David said.

“And you’re not going to talk about it because?” Latasha asked.

“It’s not relevant to being able to represent the people of the third district and to bring them the services and care they deserve and should expect. And so on,” David said.

“Very good,” Latasha said.

“Your sister is dead now, isn’t she?” David asked.

“It looks like they’re trying to get all the candidates together,” Latasha said. “Good luck up there. James and I will see you after.”

Twenty minutes later the candidates were standing behind their podiums and the moderator, a local newscaster, prompted them to begin their opening statements.

Touie Touie went first. “To begin, the most recent census of the third district tells me that almost a hundred different languages and dialects are spoken here,” he said, bubbles forming a pure, unaccented brand of English which made David think back to their first meeting and become annoyed. “I’m not sure I can say hello in all of those, but let me try.” Touie’s internal structure went momentarily opaque as a spray of tiny bubbles formed. When they surfaced, each formed a greeting in a separate tongue.

The audience was charmed and amazed, and broke into applause.

Show off, David thought to himself, as Touie finished with the rest of his opening statement.

Nukka Farn Mu went next.

“People of the third district, I will not lie to you,” Nukka Farn Mu said to the audience, baring his sharp, cruel teeth as he did so. “Your pets are delicious to me. I have tasted them. Oh, yes, I have. I resent the local, state and federal laws that do not allow me to prey upon them as I will—or would allow you to do the same to my pets, if I had them, which I do not, because I would have eaten them by now. In the land of my forefathers, the idea that animals as delicious as pets would be kept as companions would be met with derision. I wish to bring that wisdom to this, our common land. If you elect me, I will do everything in my power to make this mighty dream a reality. All other considerations bow before this sacred task. I look forward to the day when we all—every race, every people—feast together on these delicious animals known as pets. Thank you.”

The applause this time was sparse and highly scattered.

The first of the two Lideh candidates, named Ersi snaErvi, spoke next.

“People of the third district, if you elect me, I will do my best to be responsive to your needs, and to be a good and dedicated public servant,” she said. “But even if you do not elect me, I implore you from the bottom of my heart not to elect my sister, Resi snaErvi. She is evil of the sort you have not known before. And worse than evil, she is incompetent! To elect her would be to cut your wrists and jump into a tank filled with sharks, and only as your entrails were shredded and your life snatched from you would you recognize the folly of your action. Please, I beg of you: Vote for anyone other than my sister, the unspeakable Resi snaErvi. Thank you.”

David prepared to make his statement.

“This is outrageous,” said Resi snaErvi. “I realize it is not yet my time to speak, but I cannot let this slander go unanswered a moment longer.”

“Do you see, people of the third district?” cried Ersi snaErvi. “Already she breaks the rules. Already she trods upon the rights of others!” She looked at David and held out a twiglike appendage. “Human, I apologize to you on behalf of my inconsiderate and terrible sister.”

“Uh,” David said.

“No, human, it is I who must apologize for my sister,” Resi snaErvi said. “The filth of her lies already infects your ears, and only the soothing balm of truth will ease the burning.”

“I just have a few notes here,” David said, pointing to his cue cards.

“And here is the truth!” Resi snaErvi said. “My sister is unwell. She has been unwell for years. And more than unwell, she is jealous! Of me! Her own sister. For many years I have tried to ignore it and to love her—”

“Love me!” Ersi snaErvi spat. “You mean, love my intended gene-bond, whom you tricked into mating with you, you pustule of filth!”

“—but as you can see her irrationality precludes such a possibility,” Resi snaErvi continued. “Why, do you know the only reason she announced as a candidate was to run against me? She has no platform. She is as ignorant as a bug.”

“Please,” David said. “Let me just—” His next words were muffled as a large jet of oily brown effluvia ejected from the body of Ersi snaErvi and smacked him on the side of the face, on the way to splash Resi snaErvi across her abdomen. Resi snaErvi screeched an unholy screech and shot out her own gout of effluvia, coating the other side of David’s face while the majority of the spray shot across to stage to drench her sister. The two Lideh then lunged toward each other, making David the confused and disoriented filling of a scratching and clawing sandwich of hate.

From the audience came sounds of both terror and delight. David had just enough time to register both, and another jet of effluvia smacking against him, before losing consciousness.


“The video is up to four million hits,” James said, pointing to the screen, where David was once again being spritzed by Lideh bodily fluids. “And it’s not even been a full day yet.”

“Wonderful,” David said, from a supine position on the couch. His tablet buzzed; it was a reporter from the New York Times. David groaned and turned off the tablet.

“When you add that to the news networks, I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet who hasn’t seen the video by now,” James said. “In a way you’re part of the biggest political story in the world.”

“The part that gets his ass kicked for standing in the wrong place,” David said.

“It’s true you’re the comedy relief in this scenario,” James said.

“It’s not what I ran for office to be,” David said.

“At least it’s not about anything you did,” James said, and nodded back to the video. “Look at those two. They made complete asses of themselves in front of an entire planet. And now they’re in jail and they’ve both withdrawn from the race. Overall, this video is good for you. If nothing else you look reasonable by comparison.”

“So you’re saying I’ll ride to victory on the pity vote,” David said.

“I don’t know about victory,” James said. “But you could ride it to second place, which is a lot better than I would have expected yesterday.”

“Thank you for your inspiring words,” David said. He took the pillow behind his back and used it to smother his face.

“Remember I’ll still love you even when you lose,” James said. “That is, as long as you remember not to be an insufferable twit about it.”

David’s reply was muffled into the pillow.

The door opened and Latasha burst through. “Guys,” she said. “Local news. Turn it on now.”

“What’s going on?” James asked.

Latasha grabbed the remote and tuned it to the local news channel. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said. James got her attention and directed it to David, who still had the pillow over his face. She snatched the pillow off David’s head and then smacked him with it. “Pay attention,” she said, and pointed to the monitor. On it was a video of Touie Touie, at a podium.

“What’s he doing?” David asked.

“He’s quitting the race,” Latasha said.

“Bullshit,” David said.

Latasha shook her head. “Not bullshit. Local news found evidence that he’s been running a graft scheme. He’s been asexually budding and having the younger versions of himself bid for city contracts. Then he was bribing his dearly-departed boss to lobby the other council members and the mayor to vote his way. The moderator was going to drop the bombshell on him at last night’s debate, but then your thing happened. So they just broke it a couple of hours ago, and this is his reaction.” She turned up the volume.

“…And so it becomes necessary for me to step down from the council race in order to devote my full attention to fighting these baseless and outrageous accusations against myself and my bud-clones,” Touie was saying. “I’m certain we will all be vindicated, and when we are you can bet I’ll be back to fight for the citizens of the third district—” Latasha muted the sound.

“Holy shit,” James said, after a long minute. “You know what this means.”

“Hold that thought,” Latasha said, and reached into her purse. She took out a piece of paper and a pen, and handed both to David. “Sign this, please,” she said.

David took the paper. “What is it?”

“It’s you telling my Masters’ program that I’ve fulfilled all my community service requirements, so they can give me my credits,” Latasha said.

David signed the paper and gave it back to Latasha. “Thank you,” she said, and then turned back to James. “You were about to say that it means that David will actually win the election. But I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Wait, what?” David said. “You think I’m going to lose to Nukka Farn Mu? The guy who wants to eat pets?”

“It’s a very strong possibility,” Latasha said.

“The guy whose only campaign position is to eat pets,” David said.

“Yes,” Latasha said.

“Pet smorgasbord man,” David said.

Latasha sighed. “Look, David,” she said. “I have friends in other city hall offices. In other city council offices. And they’re telling me that the mayor and the other council members are very seriously considering endorsing Nukka Farn Mu. The superficial reason is that the third district is the only district in the city in which a non-human is likely to win a seat on the council, and it looks good for the city to have that.”

“But all he wants to do is eat pets,” David said. “I know I sound like I’m unusually focused on this point, but I do think it’s relevant.”

“And that’s the real reason they want him on the council,” Latasha said. “The rest of the council doesn’t actually care about interspecies diversity, David. Don’t be naïve. They want someone on the city council they can use. Let’s say the mayor and the rest of the council go to Nukka Farn Mu and say, we will pass a resolution funding a feasibility study on the subject of pet consumption, and all you have to do is promise your thumbs-up on certain key votes. Nukka Farn Mu is happy because he’ll get what he wants, and the city council is happy because they get what they want. Then four years from now, when Touie Touie’s beaten the rap, he’ll take over the third district seat, and everything’s back to normal. The only one who loses in this scenario is you.”

“And the pets,” James said.

Latasha glanced at him briefly then turned her attention back to David. “My point is that the fix is already in. Before, when Touie was running, there wasn’t anything anyone could have done about it. But now there’s actually a chance to have someone in the office who isn’t completely corrupt. That’s you, David. You have a chance to do some good. It’s just a matter of getting you in there.” She reached into her purse and brought out a folded piece of paper.

“I already signed that,” David said.

“It’s a different paper, you moron,” Latasha said. “Really. After all the nice things I just said about you. Take it and read it.”

David took it and read it. “This says you’re resigning as my campaign manager,” he said.

“I am,” Latasha said. “David, when I became your campaign manager it wasn’t because I actually wanted to be your campaign manager. It was because Touie Touie told me that if I became your campaign manager, after everything was done he’d give me an internship in his office. He said he didn’t think he’d have any serious competition for the seat, but that if he did, having you in there to peel off the human vote would probably work in his favor. So he wanted to be sure you ran a halfway credible campaign.”

“You just said he was a crook,” David said. “Why would you want to work for him?”

“He was a crook who couldn’t lose,” Latasha said. “And I thought I needed that internship. But it turns out running your campaign satisfies my program requirements just fine. And I have deep philosophical problems with Nukka Farn Mu, not in the least because I have two cats.”

“That’s a very interesting moral compass you have there,” James said.

“I’m not going to argue that point,” Latasha said. “And now you know why I had David sign my program requirement letter first. On the other hand, that moral compass of mine is about to give you a boost.” She nodded to the resignation letter. “Everything I just told you is in that letter, and I also talk about why the mayor and the council are planning to endorse Nukka Farn Mu. They’ll deny it, of course, but it will be enough to keep them from publicly endorsing him. Which is enough to keep you in the race through this next Tuesday.”

“What if I refuse to make this resignation letter public?” David said. “Maybe I want to see if I can win on my own. I’d like to think I can beat a pet-eater.”

Latasha looked over at James. “Hey, don’t look at me for help,” James said, to her. “I love the guy for his clueless gumption.”

Latasha smiled at this. “That’s an admirable thought, David, and I appreciate your faith in yourself. But, yeah, you’d get slaughtered,” she said. “So I went ahead and took the precaution of mailing copies of that resignation letter to local and national news. Thanks to your adventure last night, this race is big news, and this will keep it in the spotlight a little bit longer. That’ll be good for you. And I’ll spin it so it’s good for me, too.” She glanced over to David’s blank tablet. “So I’d turn that on soon, if I were you.”

“I don’t know what to say to you right now,” David said, to Latasha.

“I understand,” she said. “If you figure out what to say later, let me know. But either way, you’re welcome. And good luck, David.” She left the house.

After several minutes of silence David reached over and turned on the tablet. It started buzzing immediately.


“I just want to tell you good luck again,” Fuin Suh said, to David, at the election night party at his house. “After you came to speak to me, I went and told all the parishioners at The Church of the Penetrating Gods. We all voted for you.”

“How lovely,” James said, standing next to David, who was too tense to be pleasant. “And how many parishioners might that be?”

“About a hundred,” Fuin said. “It’s all very exciting!”

“Isn’t it, though,” James said, and shook Fuin’s hand. “Thanks again for coming to the party. Please, enjoy yourself. And try the fruit skewers. I think you’ll like them.”

“Oooh, fruit skewers,” Fuin said, and wandered off.

“Your election party will go off better if you actually speak to people,” James said, to David. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“If I talk too much I think I might throw up,” David said.

“Oh, relax,” James said. “You’re not going to throw up.”

“Student body treasurer race,” David said, tightly.

“Okay, point,” James said, and maneuvered his husband to the sofa. “Here, you sit. I will get you a drink. Maybe two. Maybe five.”

“Great,” David said. “Nothing like being tense and drunk at the same time.”

“The first results are in!” Someone said, near the monitor.

“Make it a dozen,” David called to James.

At eight o’clock Nukka Farn Mu led David by eight hundred votes.

At nine o’clock Nukka Farn Mu had pulled away to 1,100 votes up.

“I’m going to go hide the cat,” James said.

“We don’t have a cat,” David said.

“Good God, Nukka Farn Mu’s reign of terror has already begun,” James exclaimed.

“You’re not helping,” David said.

At ten o’clock Nukka Farn Mu’s lead had dropped to five hundred votes.

At eleven o’clock it was down to two hundred.

At midnight David was up by three.

At one o’clock, with all the votes counted, David had won by 105.

“I told you we all voted for you!” Fuin Suh said, around her tenth fruit skewer, as the balloons finally fell.

“So you did,” James said. “Bless you.” Fuin smiled and hopped off to celebrate with her friends.

“I don’t believe it,” David said. “It actually happened. I actually pulled it off.”

“You sure did,” James said.

“Now what do I do?” David said. His tablet buzzed; the incoming call was from Nukka Farn Mu.

“Start by taking that concession call,” James said. “Then give an acceptance speech. Then tell everyone to get out of the house because it’s late. Figure the rest out later.” He gave his hubby a peck on the cheek and then wandered into the crowd to mingle.

David wondered just a moment at everything that happened over the last three weeks, shook his head in disbelief, and took the call from Nukka Farn Mu. “Hello, this is David Sawyer,” he said.

“You may think this is over, but it’s not,” growled Nukka Farn Mu. “I demand a recount.”

David smiled at this. This is going to be a whole new kind of fun, he thought. I think I’ll like it.

“Bring it, pet snacker,” David said, and hung up.


We hope you’ve enjoyed this story — and that if you live in the US that you will remember to vote!

Subterranean Press is also proud to have published several works by John Scalzi, currently available for purchase in limited, trade print and electronic editions. Click on the links below to learn more about Scalzi’s work available through Subterranean Press:

The Sagan Diary

The God Engines

The Last Colony

Judge Sn Goes Golfing

Zoe’s Tale (preorder)

100 Comments on “An Election: A Short Story Presented by Subterranean Press”

  1. I was so interested in the story that I got to the end and thought, “Aren’t there supposed to be ads?” and had to scroll back up to find them. I totally missed them the first time. Maybe the ads should be saved for stories that aren’t so engrossing. :)

  2. John, if you ever feel the need for a little extra income or even to make some money off of some adds for a favorite charity, I do not think anyone would mind with the type of advertising that I believe you would allow. I doubt I would see adds for cheap viagra or other such internet staples. I actually missed the adds also, loved the short, and was glad when I went back. Love me some Cherie Preist, can’t get enough. Go for it, drop a few bucks in the hat on Prop 19.

  3. I half-saw and discarded the first ad (didn’t even remember seeing it until I read the comments and scrolled back up), and then semi-consciously ignored the last two since I’ve already read Clementine and TGE.

  4. Comment regarding story: awesome. Must reread when actually awake.

    Comment regarding giant wall of text and seemingly unrelated pictures in google reader: I would have preferred the previous post (or the end of this one) as a blurb to click through to chewy story goodness? The order of the posts combined with the length of the “first” threw me a bit in my late night glassy-eyed web browsing.

    Regarding advertisements: Would be more tempted for paper versions of reading material. I’ve done e-reading on the laptop and I don’t actually like it for novels, although it works well for short stories.

  5. Loved the story.
    The google reader didn’t handle the ads well, as noted by someone else. It didn’t keep the blurbs in the block, so their blurbs sort of blended with the story text.
    Not sure if its fixable or not.
    However, generally I had no problem with the ads in the story. And I will note that unlike the other folks who were so engrossed they missed them, the Google Reader mess made me read them…So maybe its a sort of ironical good thing?

  6. Re: the advertised books… “Mister Slaughter” is the 3rd in a series. (Also, alas, only one of the previous two books are available for my Kindle, and it’s 12.99, which is a price I’ll never pay for an ebook. The second in the series is only available in paper, which prevents impulse buying it). I was going to grab book 3, until I realized it’s book 3 and I can’t insta-grab books 1 and 2. Alas.

    Liked the story :)

  7. For what it’s worth izanobu, the ebook for Mr.Slaughter is $2.99, not $12.99. That of course does not preclude your other objections.

  8. I appreciated that the ads came at ‘rest points’ in the story – I think this worked because we’re accustomed to that format from TV and they came at a point where a brief pause wasn’t too intrusive.

    I also think the balance of ads to text was about right – any more and it would have been annoying.

    Oh and I appreciated that the ads weren’t blinking or obnoxious. The thing that bugs me most about ads on website is blinkiness and revolting (sexist, weight loss) content. A few classy book ads are not going to make me feel alienated.

    Are you going to report back on the blog about feedback/results of the experiment? it would be interesting to hear how it went, how happy Sub Press were with it, and so on. Since we’re creating a new paradigm here and all…

  9. Hey–Just wanted to chime in that I really liked this story. Thanks!

    I really enjoy how you blended so many alien species into a very modern and believable story.

    (And the ads were fine.)

  10. Re: Google Reader:

    The story is formatted for the site, not for Google Reader (I don’t have any control over how it renders html), so it’s not entirely surprising if it looks less than optimal in the reader. Inasmuch as Google Reader appears to render any in-line material weirdly, I don’t know if there’s much to do about that. But it’ll be something to consider for future stuff.

  11. This is an intriguing experiment. I did notice the ads, but only barely; they were hardly intrusive, but they did make me think “hmm, maybe I’ll buy Mister Slaughter”, which is rather the point of ads. I think the Cherie Priest one is some sort of sequel to Boneshaker, which I haven’t read, so I’m less tempted to buy it. Then I read the comments and found that Mister Slaughter is the third is a series, so that’s that impulse buy lost.

    Can I suggest that subterranean press do a cheap e-book of the first and second in the series if they want us to buy the third? Let us impulse buy those, get hooked, and then there’s a good chance we’ll pay full price for the third in the series.

    Looks like the Cherie Priest one is a standalone in the same universe though, so there’s my impulse buy for the day. Might finally persuade me to buy Boneshaker too if I enjoy it.

  12. Steve:

    I don’t think SubPress owns the rights for the first two books.

    That said, having read “Mister Slaughter” cold (i.e., without reading the previous two books in the series), I had no problems following the story or the characters, and found it a really entertaining read. Series here means “books set in the same world,” not “books that all share the same story.” So it’s still worth checking out if you have interest.

  13. Loved the story.

    I had a friend who ran for City council that reminded me of David. He asked me what he needed and I told him that he had to have an explanation for why he was running for city council. He started giving me something and I told him that he had to have the explanation for his voters. He never really did and he lost.

    Of course he wasn’t running against two insanely jealous sisters, a corrupt apparatchik and a pet eater.

    I did love the fact that of all of the candidates in the story, the only position we knew anything about was the guy who was running to legalize the eating of other people’s pets.


  14. “I did love the fact that of all of the candidates in the story, the only position we knew anything about was the guy who was running to legalize the eating of other people’s pets.”

    The sad part being that he was still more sane than some real-life politicians I could name.

  15. That was quite awesome. Not a US citizen, but now I have the burning urge to vote for something…

  16. Some call me Tim- Yes, Mr. Slaughter is 2.99 (which is awesome). However, the second book in the series is 12.99 on Kindle and the first one isn’t available on Kindle at all.
    Scalzi pointed out though that Subterranean might not own the first two books (in fact, it looks like they were published by Gallery and Pocket), so I’ll stop griping ;) Mostly I was sad because I hate to read series out of order and these books sounded really, really good and I wanted them now on my shiny Kindle. (I already have the Cherie Priest one and can highly recommend it, and any of her work, also you don’t need to have read other books in the series for that one, but having read them doesn’t hurt either).

    As for google reader formatting, when I saw it was a long post, I clicked over to the real post. Google Reader does weird things to blogs anyway, so I’ve learned :P

  17. So let me get this straight. The choices for candidate were
    1. A corrupt politician
    2. A vitriol-spewing violent lunatic
    3. Another vitriol-spewing violent lunatic
    4. A individual set on only whetting pet appetites
    5. A completely clueless ignoramus

    How does this qualify as fiction?

  18. Good lord, you don’t have to live in the US to vote!! You just have to be a US citizen. ABout eight million americans live abroad, like me! We vote by absentee ballot, many many of us are Democrats. Please don’t say that you can vote only if you live in the US! We work tirelessly to get the vote out among expats.

    great great story by the way. best, Elizabeth Jennings

    PS-John, we share an agent. Ethan.

  19. Great story! And I agree that the ads were very well placed and definitely not obnoxious.

  20. Very fun story! It ahd a very RAH “A Bathroom of her Own” vibe.

    As for the ads, if the Slaughter book was available outside the US I’d have bought it right then and there. But the byzantine workings of international copyright seem to have foiled Sub Press’ nefarious palns to get my $2.

  21. One of the fun things with this story is imagining what the background is like. For starters, where is the Third District? Is it an enclave of aliens somewhere (maybe surrounding the main spaceport) on the Earth of at least 50 years in the future, or is it on some other planet and our protagonists are, themselves, a minority? Why are all these different species there, anyway? How long has this been going on? Heck, are they even all there intentionally, or is this one of those planets where breeding stock from worlds all over the Galaxy get kidnapped by an enigmatic super-race, and then all dumped onto one planet to kind of work things out for themselves? Or, is this the district where the Men in Black have been hiding the crews of crashed spacecraft for the last hundred years? Or has the Earth been invaded and subjugated, and these are all imperial colonists from the local intersellar empire? So many possibilities . . .

  22. John (and Bill!),
    Thanks for the great story. I could easily see this as an intro to a fun short story series starring Sawyer and supporting cast. I’d love to see the Svorszens follow up with the council about those disgusting Canadians, or attending a community night at Fuin Suh’s church (Our Entity of the Glaive-guisarme, Temple of the Penetrating Gods, Reformed). You could possibly sew them together into a full novel, if the market was there. Keep them coming!

    The ads were fine, but I already have Clementine out from the library, and God Engines is already in the cart, for when I buy next from Webscriptions. I’ll have to see if I can rustle up the first book from McCammon’s series. (My SF-OCD prevents me from knowingly starting a series in the middle, even if they are of of a shared world than true series.)

    Thanks again, much appreciated.

  23. John,

    Thanks for clarifying that. In that case I shall buy them both!


  24. Are cats with bacon more delicious than cats without bacon?

    Hey, somebody had to ask.

    Great story. The ads were not intrusive. In fact, they just sort of fluttered by like the stuff that used to be in the middle column of the previous format. I didn’t even notice they were ads until I read the explanation.

  25. We hope you’ve enjoyed this story — and that if you live in the US that you will remember to vote on November 2, 2010.

    Not everyone who lives in the US can vote and — as Elizabeth Jennings pointed out — you don’t have to live in the US to be able to vote. (And to complete the nit-picking, some folks can vote before November 2.)

    That said, I second the intent. If you can legally vote in the US election, please do.

    But please don’t vote for any of the pet-snackers out there, especially the astroturfed ones.

  26. If a few book ads is all I need to pay to read a new Scalzi, I’ll happily pay it every time! Great story Mr S, thanks subterranean and please please vote. I live in a country with compulsory voting, thank his noodly appendage, but US citizens must realize that your elections affect the whole world. If you care even just a little bit, take the 10minutes to vote…

  27. Enjoyed the story, John. I actually liked the ads. I’m not sure how I came to ‘Speaks the Nightbird’, the first story of McCammon’s Matthew Corbet series, but I enjoyed it enough that I finished it (and it was massive) and would consider reading the sequels. The ad pointed this out to me, but simultaneously made me sad. Why?

    Unfortunately, I have a nook, not a kindle. Oddly enough, McCammon’s first book isn’t available in e-book form. His second book IS, but only on B&N for $12.99. His third book is $2.99 for Kindle readers or $9.99 from Baen as some sort of ‘webscription’ thing? It’s all very confusing. If B&N were carrying ‘Mister Slaughter’ for $2.99 I’d purchased the second and third books right now. As it is, I’ll wait and see.

    I just wish e-book purchasing wasn’t so all over the board. :(

  28. izanobu @ 7:53 – Oh, sorry about that. I mis-read your first post. I see now you were raking issue with the ebook price of the previous volume, not the advertised one. My bad.

  29. Thanks for the great story. It was interesting and really, really funny.

    I second the motion to make it available for e-purchase somewhere. I’d love to have this hanging around on my iPad to read again sometime.

    I was particularly struck by very casual matter-of-factness of the married gay couple. It was refreshing to see a positive portrayal without a lot of trumpets and fanfare, or some kind of annoying stereotypical caricatures. Instead it was perfectly human (pun intended), funny and warm. Thanks!

  30. Wow, that was GREAT! The one bit that made me laugh out loud was the “I’m going to go hide the cat” “We don’t have a cat” bit. So mentioning cats is a good plan in general, it seems :)

  31. In my head, Nukka Farn Mu has the voice of State Senator Clay Davis.

    Just a casting suggestion for the inevitable audiobook…

  32. A very entertaining story! Though alien, those political candidates seemed more “real” than some I’ve seen on my television.

  33. What others have said about the ads: the story was so fun to read I went right past them. I suggest either putting them at the beginning and/or end of the story, or else actually breaking the text and sandwiching the ads between blocks, rather than tucking them into the sides.

    In print magazines, I think too I’m more likely to notice ads in the middle of stories that occupy the whole width of the page, even if it’s at the bottom, than small ones pushed to the side.

    In either case, the viewing of the ads is totally under my control as a reader, so they don’t have the annoyance value of TV commercials or of those things you have to wait through before viewing commercial web videos. (Also, they’re neither animated nor automatically play sound. Hate those.)

  34. There were ads? (Scrolls back to support any excuse for more hilarity and Monday morning kickoffs…)

    Any story that starts with death due to impatience on carapace replacement has to be a good thing. Honestly, I was cracking up by the end of the second paragraph. I so <3 James and David and the ever practical Latasha and Fuin Suh (which in my head sounds like Feng Shui spoken with a heavy Brooklyn dialect and possibly a head cold.) Fruit Skewers for everyone!

    I have a seriously long day at work to day and this just put me in the perfect frame of mind to tackle it. Thank you very much for the gift, Scalzi.

  35. Great story!

    I too missed the ads because I was so focused on the story. Was completely taken by surprise when I scrolled back and found them. I remembered seeing “Vote” at the start of the story and “The God Engines” at the end; my eyes simply ignored the two books advertised in between. The suggestions made by Simon S. about possible placement of future ads are good ones; they would work for me.

  36. You can’t fool us, Scalzi! This piece wasn’t about the importance of voting, or the corrupt nature of politics, or even interspecies tolerance – it was all about getting to write that one, special line.

    Bring it, pet snacker.

  37. I did notice the ads, and will go back and click on them. They were just enough to be noticed, and tempting, but not so much as to invoke the mental “that’s an ad, ignore it” filter. Someone understands me a little too well.

    The story, oh my. John, you must have worked a couple of campaigns, or did really good research. Too, too, too close to reality! And yes, I can see this as the first chapter in a hilarious,
    novel-length collection of stories about David, his family, pets, friends, and everyone else.

    Thank you, and thanks to Subterranean Press, too.

  38. “Pet snacker” is perhaps not an epithet that a man famous for taping tasty, tasty bacon to his cat would want to introduce into common parlance.

  39. That was hilarious. I guess I started guffawing when David declared that he’ll be thirty-six in five weeks.

  40. I was looking for the ads, but didn’t find them obtrusive at all. Good placement! –though I suspect the warning that they were there helped, because my mental filter is accustomed to blocking them; I doubt I would have seen them, otherwise.

    Price point is perfect, and the fact that they’re stand-alone works of fiction helps. I assume Subterranean knows their market and picked the books appropriately, though the sub-genres seem somewhat disconnected from the actual short story. That said, I bought both books out of sheer good will after reading the short story (which gave me a sorely needed laugh on a miserable sick day, thank you!) and I would have been happy to pay for this one as well.

    Since that wasn’t an option, I went and bought The God Engines and After the Coup instead — which I’d meant to do anyway, but the reminder helped get me off my arse to do it.

    That said, I don’t know how successful this would have been with regards to my pocketbook if I hadn’t been informed in advance that this was the use case and the hoped for payoff. Like I said: visual filter, which I’m willing to bet is pretty common these days. Also, I do the majority of my reading through an RSS reader, which would have excluded the ads. I state the obvious, I know!

  41. I noticed the ads but didn’t relate them to the story experiment. I thought they were part of the theme tinkering that started last week. I didn’t actually read them (although I recognized the name Clementine from Boneshaker, so it piqued my interest); I just assumed they were Big Idea books or some other Whateveresque promotion. In other words, they seemed to fit right in.

  42. Good story. Heading back to the earlier post to express approval for this experiment.

    As a side note, I already bought ‘Clementine’ for my Kindle. I heartily recommend it & ‘Boneshaker’ and ‘Dreadnought’ if you like zombies & steampunk (not necessarily in that order). They are in the same universe but are standalone stories.

  43. I enjoyed the story very much, and I intend to use “pet snacker” as my epithet of choice for the next several weeks. Particularly against members of the American political party I vote against.

    Tests: “You orange pet snacker, you!”

    I like it.

    The ads were almost too unobtrusive, as others have said.

  44. Haven’t read your story yet, but I like how Subterranean has done by you and I like the quality of the products I’ve ordered from them, so I picked up a copy of the eBook Mister Slaughter.

  45. GREAT story. :)
    the ads weren’t intrusive at all. i actually thought the first one was the side view thingy about “the big idea” so nice job with the layout.

  46. Huh, I thought the Vote ad was part of the story… And I kept waiting for the yogurt to appear.

    An amusing story, John, thanks. Even though the election ads make me want to hunt down the people making them and tape… something to them I enjoyed it. Speaking of elections, time to fill in the mail-in ballot.

  47. You know, I followed Whatever before I had ever read anything of yours, and have enjoyed your online work so much I went and read Old Man’s War for the first time just last week. In one sitting. Yeah, you’re that good. Very well done!

  48. You say “We hope … that if you live in the US that you will remember to vote…” I agree with the sentiment.

    Here’s the thing: Just because you live in the U.S. does not mean you get to vote. People with green cards don’t get to vote. Many convicted felons can’t vote either (but some can).

    I do not live in the U.S. but I do get to vote in Federal elections because I am a U.S. Citizen. I also get to file a tax return with the IRS.

    No matter where you choose to live your citizenship is a privilege and a responsibility.

  49. You know, I think most people get that the people I am encouraging to vote are the people who are legally allowed to vote, enough so that exact precision in the exhortation to vote is not really needed. Because the readers here are not stupid. So my response to the folks nitpicking the statement is to roll my eyes, just a little.

  50. =D I loved this. And, for some reason, the style makes me think Connie Willis? Something about the way the rhythm of the dialogue tastes in my brain.

    Anyway, I really hope James and David show up again at some point.

    And, unsurprisingly, Subterranean does advertising right. Well, sort of right. Pretty ads that describe the thing they are trying to sell and are not obnoxious, yay. But they are SO low key and unobtrusive that I missed them – I had to go back and hunt them down, as Subterranean is a company whose advertising I actually WANT to see. Maybe a little animation would be nice? Not, like, OMG AD OF DOOOM TAKING OVER YOUR PAGE WITH ANNOYING SQUIGGLES. But, just enough movement of something to catch your eye?

    Whatever, like I know anything. Yay, experiment! Yay, Scalzi story! Yay, Subterranean! Yay, cheap ebooks! Boo, stupid competing ebook platforms giving everyone a headache. =)

  51. As the great humourist Stephen Leacock said: “Get out there and vote! Keep on voting until they make you stop!”

  52. Thank you, John. Loved the story (almost exhaled coffee out my nose from laughing at the effluvia-flinging scene). Thought the ads were very nicely done and intend to purchase at least one of said e-books from Subterranean Press as soon as I join the 21st century and get an e-reader. Whilst I did blow by them completely and have to go back and hunt them down as so many other commenters did, I attribute it to being in squee-mode and thrilled to be reading something new from the Scalzi compound.

  53. Told the wife about the story. When I mentioned how long it had been since a human had represented the district, she wondered allowed if you think our orange representative may not be human.

  54. Hey, John, when my wife and I walked up to you yesterday at WFC while you were hard at work in the bar (heh) you told me to check your blog today and that I’d like what I’d find. Well, regarding the former, I did, and regarding the latter, I definitely did. I wondered if this story is in any way related to THE ANDROID’S DREAM? It has that feel.

    (FYI: Tiny thing you might want to fix: “From the inside the gelatin at mass of bubbles” looks to me like it should be “From the inside the gelatin a mass of bubbles” … )

  55. Also, I read this story to my partner, and he immediately began referring to our dogs as Pet Snacks. I thought you should know. =)

  56. Hee hee hee!!! Loved it!

    Yes, American peoples, vote! Remember to vote! If there’s one thing in the universe that drives me crazy it’s people complaining about politics (anything from national and foreign policy to local council services) and then it turns out they never even voted in the first place. You lose your right of complaint if you couldn’t even be bothered to make the small effort to tick a box and make a difference when you could.

  57. I already had the books, except for Mister Slaughter. Easy sale! Thanks for the great story, and the reminder that it isn’t over until all the votes are counted.

  58. I didn’t have the any of the books. Although I won’t be purchasing any of them, this was a good reminder to click through and purchase “The God Engines” for my Kindle. Quite reasonable price.

  59. GREAT story son! I absolutely love it. For those who haven’t yet purchased an e-reader, a reminder that Amazon will give a free Kindle for PC ~ I’ve read several books on my laptop and am quite pleased with the reader. I intend to buy a Kindle as soon as it’s in the budget.

  60. At first I was intrigued by the Carter-esque neighbor pet eating platform, but I was soon turned off by the racial identity politics. I prefer the fantasy of a world where people vote for ideas rather than how gelatinous someone is.

    OTOH, the asexual budding corruption scandal reminded me of Chicago politics, so on the whole I give the effort a solid B+.

  61. Popped in say I just picked up Clementine off that link, so Sub Press made at least two bucks on the deal.

    Not hardly enough to cover costs for them, but I’m doing my part. :D

  62. Fabulous little story, John! Loved it, found the ads unobtrusive, enjoyed the experience of reading it on my aging Mac laptop in my browser of choice, Safari.
    Well done, sir!

  63. Great story! I’ve been a fan of your writing ever since I read Old Man’s War and I think I’ve bought all your books. As for the election, I’d love to vote, but as a Dutch citizen living in Singapore, I suspect it might violate a law or two. (You pick the county/district/state you think I might vote in, and the candidate I’d vote for, and you’d probably be wrong. :P)

    I’m going to check on my cat now.

  64. A perfect story, no matter WHAT your political persuasion. Wonderful piece of satire, well executed. You’ve got MY vote! :-)

  65. Loved it! I literally LOLed, several times.

    I did notice the ads but I was kinda looking for them, so… In any case, these are not the types of ads that annoy me. These ads are for things in which I am actually interested. Annoying ads are the the ones that jump out at me, make irritating noises, flash at me with seizure-inducing intensity, violate my computer with sinister devil-ware and such and otherwise try to hypnotize me into buying things for which I have no need or desire whatsoever. These ads I actually clicked on because I wanted to know more about what they were selling.

    Anyway, I hope the experiment is successful. The story was great.

  66. Wow! That was amazing. Made my train journey home a lot more enjoyable. Loving the publishing experiment. I love the fact I can just read the story on my phone. Please, please, please do this many more times. Thanks again Mr Scalzi.

  67. Oh how delightful and timely and charming! I needed to smile today and your story made me both smile and laugh, I’ve forwarded the link had about this around the world already. Also? As a gay man it was great to see a married gay couple as the protagonists, very cool, thanks for that!

    Well done sir! and by the Hold Penetrating Gods, I too shall be saying “Bring it, Pet Snacker!” well into the Holiday season! :)

  68. Oh how delightful and timely and charming! I needed to smile today and your story made me both smile and laugh, I’ve forwarded the link had about this around the world already. Also? As a gay man it was great to see a married gay couple as the protagonists, very cool, thanks for that!

    Well done sir! and by the Holy Penetrating Gods, I too shall be saying “Bring it, Pet Snacker!” well into the Holiday season! :)

  69. I could easily picture everything in the same art style as Futurama. The rant about pet eating could have made this story awesome all by itself.

  70. Totally agreed with #52 – I thought it was just part of the theme to push recent Big Idea stuff. Interesting.

  71. Mr Scalzi –

    Put me down for the ‘really liked this’ column.

    Also for the ‘what? there were ads?’ group. (I may have grown too used to tuning out ads this campaign season.)

    And for the ‘thank you for urging people to vote’ ticket as well – even though I’m pretty sure the only similarity between your ballot and mine is that they were both not straight tickets. Hurrah for them what shows up.

    – K

  72. Yep fun story much enjoyed.

    As for the advertising – just breezed straight past it.


  73. Hugely enjoyed this. “This could be a lot more fun than I was expecting” sums it up quite nicely – and I’ve come to expect a lot from you and SubPress. Thank you, John and Bill!

    Is it pure coincidence that both the sibling rivals’ names are anagrams of Vainer Sires?

    Re the advertisements: They didn’t get in the way of reading the rest of the damned story. Well done, that. (I already own a number of the works shown, so they registered about as much as a lawn sign for a candidate who’s already got my vote. ;^)