THE AMBASSADOR’S WIFE  

The King of New York stood on the balcony of his private residence and looked out over his domain. Central Park was spread out below him, while in the distance he could make out the familiar spire of the Empire State Building, which now served as both a museum and as his official palace, where he went when he had to make the big decisions. The rest of Manhattan stretched out across the horizon, once again united under one rule. Now that there was a mutual defense treaty with New Jersey and the long war with Brooklyn was finally over, people were coming back to the city in earnest, after having been scattered throughout the half-dozen or so self-proclaimed republics and kingdoms that made up what had once been the Eastern United States. And, he had the upcoming trade agreement with Canada to look forward to, which would hopefully force a peace settlement with the still-contentious Southern states.

King Tammany LaGuardia the II (whose real name was George Rothman, and who was the son of a former Congressman who had helped form the Empire State’s provisional government during the War) heard his private phone line ringing, and went back inside to answer it. Getting the phone service working again had been one of his major accomplishments, and he still marveled at how clearly he was able to hear the voice of his senior advisor as he told the King that the Canadian ambassador had just landed with his wife at JFK aboard their private jet.

“Excellent, Pete,” George replied. He put the receiver back down and rubbed his hands together with anticipation. Things were going as smoothly as he’d hoped. The ambassador was here, the trade agreement would be signed, and then the New Confederacy would be forced to sue for peace with New York and its upstate allies the way it had with the California Republic.

George reached into his suit jacket for his cell phone and called for his limo to pick him up. He wanted to be at the airport to greet the ambassador personally when he got off the plane, to show the still skeptical Canadian government that he was in charge. George took the elevator down to the street entrance, where his royal guardsmen smartly saluted him as he joined his chief advisors and own ambassador in the limo. A police escort guided them through the city streets as they made their way to the airport, and George took the time to inspect his kingdom from behind the safety of the car’s bulletproof windows. People were going about their normal daily business. There were newly arrived immigrants from the Midwest who were still gawking at the Empire’s prosperity as they rode on horseback, while the middle class rode imported Korean bicycles and the wealthy drove Volkswagen limos or bulletproof Rovers and Saab SUV’s. Whatever their status, they all respectfully made way for the Imperial limosine as it drove by, and those on the sidewalks cheered, waved, and saluted as the car passed. George was thankful for their loyalty, and proud of the fact that, with a population of more than two million, and thousands more scattered across the rest of the Five Boroughs, the city was the most populated in the entire former United States, with the possible exception of L.A.

They arrived at the airport, where George greeted the rest of the formal Imperial escort as he got out of the car and went to greet the ambassador as he stepped down from the plane. The ambassador was a distinguished-looking gentleman in his early sixties, but he wasn’t the one who got George’s attention. That was the ambassador’s wife-a stunningly attractive woman who looked young enough to be his granddaughter, and more like a supermodel than the wife of one of the most important figures in North America. She had golden hair that fell down to her shoulders, and she carried herself with a sense of presence and authority that George had seen in few other people.

“That’s the Honorable Mrs. Mary Dupree,” George heard his own ambassador whispering to him, bringing him back down to Earth. “She’s originally from Quebec, and of French-Canadian descent. I’d advise you to be careful around her, sir. She has, shall we say, a certain taste for men in high places…”

George nodded. “Say no more,” he said. “I’ll watch myself.” He nodded at the Canadian ambassador as he and his wife came over to him and the formal introductions were made. The ambassador made a speech about what a great day this was for the relationship between Canada and the former United States, but George was still preoccupied with Mrs. Dupree. He noticed her looking at him in return, with an expression that seemed to be one of both appraisal and amusement. Probably sizing me up for the kill, he thought drily. Nevertheless, they exchanged pleasantries as they joined George and his own ambassador in the limo. The ambassador complimented George on the Empire’s prosperity as they drove to the World Trade Center for the conference, while Mrs. Dupree sat silently by her husband. Soon, however, she, too, was asking questions about the Empire, and seemed especially interested in its relations with its neighbors.

“I understand that you have a treaty with New Jersey and Brooklyn now, as well,” she said. “How will that affect your standing with the other Northeastern states?”

“It should help out a lot,” George said, with the easygoing familiarity that he was famous for, and which he had used to gain fame as a negotiator. “They don’t like the Confederacy any more than we do, and they all want the benefits that access to Canada would provide. We’ve been cut off from the outside world for too long. It’s time for us to be reunited as a people, and to stop living off the hatreds of the past.”

The Canadian ambassador nodded. “This agreement should help you in your noble efforts,” he said. “My country is eager to reestablish diplomatic relations with your whole nation again. Let us hope that this will be the start of that new day.”

They toasted the impending agreement with champagne, and dropped the ambassador and his wife off at the Twin Towers, which, like the city’s other historic skyscrapers, had been kept in prewar condition at Imperial expense. Then he rode back to his own official quarters at the Empire State Building, where he met with his Royal Council to discuss the finer points of the conference. They all thought the agreement was a good idea, even the older war veterans who had fought in the Border Campaigns with the other states. When the meeting was over, George decided to retire early and went into his room to eat dinner and watch some overseas broadcasts with his satellite t.v. Afterwards, he took a shower and put on his Imperial bathrobe. When he came back out, he wasn’t too surprised to find Mrs. Dupree waiting for him on the bed. She was undressed, but George managed to retain his kingly composure.

“I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here,” he said. “But what about your husband? Won’t he be waiting for you back at the Trade Center?”

Mary shook her head. “He won’t miss me,” she replied. “He’s too busy concerning himself with the affairs of state to care about what I do in my spare time. Let’s just say that we have a certain…agreement, and leave it at that. Now, don’t worry so much about appearances. I thought we might use the time we have to…get to know each other a little better.”

“I appreciate the interest,” George said. “But, call me old-fashioned, you’re still a married woman…”

Mary shrugged. “A marriage that was planned for the good of the country. I was a teenager when I married him, and he knows about my need for…companionship when we travel abroad. He knows all about the affairs I’ve had with others like you-important men, powerful men, men who know how to get what they want out of others. Some want gratification, others want acknowledgement. So, I give it to them.”

George’s attitude towards her softened as he hard the underlying loneliness in her words. He could see the hurt that lay beneath her outer bitterness and cynicism.

“I understand,” he said. “But I still think there are other ways for you to deal with your…needs. I’ll oblige you, if that’s what you really want. But I think that, after we’re done, you should go back to your husband and have a long talk with him about this. I may not know tour husband that well, but he seems to be one of the good guys, and he ought to be given the benefit of the doubt.”

Mary stared at him. She seemed to be caught off guard, as if unused to such sincerity. “Maybe you’re right,” she quietly replied. “But…we are what these times have made us. And for now…”

At the trade conference the following evening, they made no mention of their encounter with each other. Mary stood by her husband’s side as he signed the agreement in the presence of other ambassadors from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and the Maine Alliance, which included Delaware, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island. Afterwards, however, he came over to George.

“She told me what you said to her last night,” he said. “And…perhaps she is right. I have been paying too much attention to business, and not enough to her. When we get back home, things will be different, and hopefully better.”

George shook his hand. “That’s all I could ask for,” he said. The ambassador nodded, and went back to mingle with the other guests. We are all what these times have made us-that’s what she said, George thought. But if there’s anything these times have taught us, it’s that, no matter what the past has been, we’re all in charge of our own futures.

He could only hope that she would remember that, as George rejoined his guests, and soon he and the ambassador were indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd.

Matthew Spence was born in Cleveland, Ohio and currently lives in Parkersburg, West Virginia. His credits include "The Longest Walk," "Noah's Walk," "In The Maze," "Setback," and "Aboard The Ark," all of which have been published by The Legions of Light, Black Satellite Magazine, and Nova SF, respectively.