The Freedom Initiative

Lenore Lamore, of the Lemming Lamores, regarded the frumpy bespectacled gentleman before her with an imposing, regal stare. She did not appear favorably impressed. 

“I am delighted to oversee this critical research, to help us better understand the strengths and weaknesses of our democratic systems,” said Dr. Duglen Tribbens, Co-founder of the Tribbens-Dufort Research Group. He bowed stiffly, spoke formally.

“Indeed,” said Lenore. Her expression suggested an unwelcome odor. “I will unveil the Freedom Initiative at a press conference in…ten minutes,” she said, examining her expensive watch. She looked bored. She turned to walk away.

“You understand that our research must be independent?” I said. My voice felt too loud. “Our data and results must be absolutely confidential until our final report has been prepared. This is critical to the integrity of the project.”

Lenore Lamore halted in her tracks. She turned back, scowled at me.

“Who is this?” she said, glancing at Duglen. She pointed to me as if noticing a spot missed in the cleaning.

“Uh…my partner,” said Duglen, uncomfortable.

“The Dufort half of the company,” I said.

“Well, then.” She leaned slightly toward me as if to reprimand a child. Lenore zipped a finger across her lips. “Confidential it shall be. I would have it no other way.” Amused, she turned on a heel and strode from the room.

***

The press session was crowded, electric with anticipation.

“The narratives that shape our democratic values are complex and highly nuanced,” said Lenore Lamore, leaning over a cluster of bundled microphones. Her maternal smile was soothing, all-knowing. “We all agree that the well-being of our democratic system of governance is of vital importance.”

She paused, struck a well-rehearsed profile for the cameras.

I glanced at Duglen, next to me. His eyes had an odd glazed look, like he was in love.

“Lamore Enterprises is proud to unveil The Freedom Initiative, an ambitious and completely independent research effort to better understand our democratic processes.” She grasped the podium with both hands, stared intently at the assembled crowd. “In order, of course, to preserve and protect freedom.” She smiled directly at me, standing at the back of the room.

I like to know who my clients are before signing on with them, so I had attempted due diligence before committing to the project. It was as though the Lamore history was a carefully polished veneer, full of color-glossy marketing opportunities but with little substance.

Lenore Lamore, of the Lemming Lamores, was matriarch. She was the absolute ruler of both family and family business interests, which included industrial chemicals, opiates, health insurance and pesticides. Recently, with big investments in media technology, Lamore now controlled a majority share of the most popular media traffic outlets available on the planet. All in the name of public interest, if the marketing was to be believed.

I was suspicious, reluctant to accept the project. Duglen had insisted that we needed the money. He argued that the prestige of working with influential people like the Lamores would take us to the next level.

“This will really put us on the map,” he exclaimed, before showing me the contract, which he had already signed.

***

Following the press conference I wandered over to what appeared to be the most popular diner in the town of Lemming, The Ole Boys Cafe. I found a table in a corner where I could unobtrusively watch people and listen in on conversations going on around me.

For a lunchtime crowd it was strangely quiet, I thought. I wondered if any had watched the press conference live stream, or if they had even heard of the Freedom Initiative.

A television mounted over the counter flashed to life with the lunchtime news. The anchor, Kirk Savage, grinned like an idiot. Just my opinion.

“Lamore Enterprises today announced a broad, sweeping plan to remedy the weaknesses in the nation’s government and safeguard our rightful freedoms,” he said. “Once again, Lenore Lamore steps forward to serve her people,” he gushed. He had the same sappy look in his eyes that Duglen had at the press conference.

Not a research study, I thought. He called it a remedy.

The crowd in the cafe stared dully at the newscast. A few despondently dropped their sandwiches, finished their last swig of cold coffee and shuffled listlessly out the door.

A young woman slipped smoothly into the chair opposite mine at the table. She was dark and intense, with eyes that burned with anger.

“Hello,” I said.

“I came to warn you,” she said. “Lenore Lamore is no lover of freedom, do you understand?” Her voice dripped with bitterness.

“And you are…?”

“She is aligned with beasts and tyrants, you know?”

“Hm,” I said.

“I am warning you,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. “What’s with the crowd? Why so quiet?”

“They do not speak of Lenore Lamore,” she said. “Not in public.”

She stared hard at me. Deciding whether to trust me, I thought. 

“Larisa Lamore,” she said. “Lenore Lamore is my mother.” She dropped a manila envelope on the table in front of me. Then slipped away as quickly as she arrived.

***

Back in my hotel room I sat in an uncomfortable chair and turned the television on, muted. The manila envelope left by Larisa contained a single well-researched report, her own work.

It all tracked back to the year 1938 and a live radio production called The War of the Worlds, based on the 1898 novel by H.G. Wells. The production featured a fictional alien invasion. It was so well dramatized that it caused considerable panic among the public.

While it fell short of outright hysteria, the resulting confusion of the American public caught the attention of many people, including Josef Stalin and Adolf Hitler. In America, individuals involved with various government intelligence groups were intrigued.

Years later intelligence and defense department agencies studied the so-called panic phenomenon, especially the complexities of manipulating public fear through media. Political administrations changed and the research was put on a back burner.

As advanced media technologies became accessible it was obvious that manipulating the beliefs and fears of the public would be easier than ever imagined.

Outrage was a commodity, a money maker. A tool for power brokers.

The Freedom Initiative was Lenore Lamore's effort to identify and exploit vulnerabilities in democracy to acquire power, according to Larisa’s report.

Not to defend freedom, but to defeat it.

Problem was, there was no concrete evidence, no proof.

***

Weeks turned to months. Our research effort moved forward. We drew information from many different sources. With Lamore’s funding we engaged an army of interviewers, technicians and analysts to collect and organize terabytes of data.

Since the start of the project I had been nagged by a feeling that it was all spinning out of control. This week’s staff meeting confirmed my fears, laid it all out on the table.

Our accountant reported. “Funds are missing,” she said. “Lamore pays us, then funds are diverted from our account to a handful of domestic extremist organizations.”

Lamore is using us to launder funds for domestic terrorists, I thought.

Next, our security analyst was deeply concerned. “Certain documents are being downloaded without permission. These are detailed reports that describe specific vulnerabilities in our electoral process.” 

Vulnerabilities that can be exploited, I thought.

Our social media manager brought it home for us. “Sudden uptick in violent rhetoric in online forums, some public and some behind firewalls,” she said. “Calling for a coup.”

“Is that new?” I said.

“What is new is that our research is showing up online,” she said. “Cherry-picked. We are being leaked. We are the fuel on the fire.”

“Inside job,” said the security analyst. “Where’s Duglen these days?”

They all looked at me for an answer. All I knew is that my partner, Dr. Duglen Tribbens, had vanished into the toxic vortex of Lenore Lamore's influence. 

***

To my surprise a voicemail from Duglen awaited me when I woke the next morning in my hotel room.

Can’t talk long. I’ve been a fool. I don’t know…she made so much sense…but the thing is I sat in on a meeting yesterday and it scared the hell out of me. I managed some video with my phone. Audio sucks, but the general tone is obvious. I’ll upload it to our secure server as soon as I can. Sorry I got us into this. It’s an armed camp, here. Hope I can get away.

I opened my laptop and signed into the Tribbens-Dufort Research Group secure server. There was the video file, which I downloaded immediately. I deleted the file from the server. They had access to our secure server. Anything I could see, they could see.

I brewed fresh coffee and stared at the video file. Was I ready for this? Did they know this video existed? Did they know I had it?

The mug of hot black coffee comforted me. I breathed in the luscious aroma. It calmed me. I prepared to watch the video.

A knock at the door made me jump. I quickly shut down my laptop. The knock was soft, inquiring. Not the banging I’d expect if the militia was about to burst in. It was Larisa. I let her in, locked the door behind her. She looked at me seriously, pain in her eyes.

“Your friend is dead,” she said.

The moment was too complicated for grief. This news did not surprise me. I nodded, slowly.

“Mother’s security people hear everything. They monitor all communication. They have that ability.”

“Duglen sent a video,” I said.

I recognized several prominent politicians in the video. The extremists wore para-military gear. Lenore Lamore was not in the room. At the center a distinguished, well-dressed gentleman started the conversation.

“Kendall Richarrs, attorney for Lamore Enterprises,” said Larisa. “A ruthless man to be wary of.”

“Currently the people are, by and large, believers of elections, checks and balances, and constitutional integrity as a means of maintaining freedom,” said Richarrs. His voice hardened. “Can the systematic application of a carefully manufactured narrative alter a population’s perception of what freedom is?”

“What is freedom?” said Bull Beefinweiler, a powerful multi-term Senator. “Who is to say that autocratic rule—tyranny—is not a form of freedom?”

“Good question,” said Lenore Lamore, entering the frame. She sat next to Richarrs. “The concept of freedom is fluid, contextual. Do the people really know what freedom is?”

“We will educate them,” said Beefinweiler.

“We gain the initiative by accusing the opposition of doing whatever we have, in fact, already done. We reduce their ability to respond credibly,” said Richarrs.   

“We will begin with their elections,” said Lenore. “From now on, we will own them.”

***

The unblushing audacity of what I witnessed on that video stunned me to silence. Fear rose as I understood how Lamore could indulge in such arrogance. She had the planning, the resources. Thanks to the Freedom Initiative she had the data. All the pieces were coming together for her. She was nearly there, already.

“There is more,” said Larisa. “I acquired two documents. It was very dangerous, but I stole these from Richarr’s office.” She summarized aloud as I read the first.

“This is a signed agreement with key political figures and corporate executives and the leaders of all the big domestic extremist militia groups,” said Larisa. “This sets in motion a massive media campaign to convince people of their fear, to create outrage.” She leaned back against the dresser. “This is a plan to create distrust, to prepare for a coup. In black and white.”

I moved to the second document. Larisa once again summarized. 

“This is an agreement between influential political and corporate interests and Lamore Enterprises to betray the extremist militia, once their usefulness has ended. Lenore will serve them up to the courts in order to delay, to acquire time for her plan to develop.”

I scanned the signatures. Powerful people. Surprisingly, the politicians were an evenly balanced bipartisan group.

“Lamore owns the courts,” I said. 

“We need a plan,” said Larisa.

“Go to the media?”

“My mother owns the media.”

“Go to political leadership?”

“Look at the names on that list,” she said. “Who do we go to?”

“Go to the people?”

“The people are too busy trying to pay their mortgage, keep their health insurance,” said Larisa. “Too many still believe the American Dream is real, that somehow it will all work out. If only they work harder, show fealty more vigorously.”

“Too many are quiet,” I said. “Frightened.”

“We cannot be quiet,” said Larisa.

“We’ll be dead,” I said. “That’s pretty quiet.”

***

I watched the video and reread the stolen documents several times, thinking hard, trying to come up with a plan.

Larisa paced impatiently back and forth, muttering the most vile profanities. It was distracting.

“I have a plan,” I said, finally.

Larisa quickly sat in the uncomfortable chair, leaned forward expectantly.

“Lenore plans on betraying these extremist militia groups, right?”

“Yes, I can read that.”

“Let’s be sure they know,” I said. “Like, today.”

“What will that do?” Larisa was interested, but skeptical.

“I think this is a vulnerable moment in Lenore’s plans,” I said. “In a few weeks she will not be vulnerable. Today, a lot of different pieces are still coming together. She’s not quite there.”

“So, we incite internal discord, yes?” said Larisa. “We delay my mother by forcing her to deal with that.”

“It buys us time,” I said. “Maybe puts a dent in her scheme.”

“How do we do this?” said Larisa.

“They use email, right?”

“They also have their own social media platform, you know?”

We uploaded Lenore’s plan to betray the extremists to their social media platform. We titled the post You are being betrayed!!. We attached the same document to emails sent directly to the leaders of the militia groups.

“That should do it,” I said, with satisfaction.

“Now we wait,” said Larisa.

***

We waited and were disappointed. Nothing happened. No outcry, no evidence of friction within the Lamore ranks. Our posts to the militants' social media platform were removed. Apparently, we violated their acceptable use policy.

Not only did we not receive a response to our emails, our email and web site accounts were mysteriously identified as phishing agents and shut down. 

All the files on the Tribbens-Dufort Research Group secure server were deleted.

Larisa and I were on the run. Our cell phones still worked, so we anticipated a call from Lenore Lamore at some point.

One day we sat in a small cafe in the middle of nowhere, enjoying a bite of lunch. The television streamed video of riotous militant groups storming a government building. Close ups of individuals answered a lot of questions for us.

“Man-boys,” said Larisa. “Just little boys playing war.”

“No wonder our message didn’t make an impact,” I said.

“Maybe they can’t read?” said Larisa.

My phone vibrated. There it was. Lenore Lamore calling. I connected.

“You did some fine work for us, Dr. Dufort,” said Lenore Lamore.

I waited.

“I paid our proud patriotic militia people a small bit more money, promised it would all be okay,” said Lenore. “They have mortgages and need health care too, you know. I own their homes, their cars. I control their insurance.”

Larisa listened in. I watched her anger grow.

“Hello mother,” said Larisa into the phone.

“Yes, you go to hell like a good girl, dear,” said Lenore.

Larisa shrugged, whispered to me: “We don’t get along so well.”

“Your mobile device accounts will be closed by the end of the day,” said Lenore. “Your bank accounts are more problematic, but I’ll own them soon enough. Better make a cash withdrawal while you can.”

“Hm,” I said.

“I better go,” said Lenore. “In the middle of a busy election cycle, you know. Need to be sure the electoral process is…secured.”

There was nothing more to say. The connection closed.

Larisa and I sat back and enjoyed our sandwiches.

“Excellent coffee, you know?” I said.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Larisa. “None of this is about ideology or political leanings or freedom or America or anything.”

“It’s about being rich,” I said. “Wealth is the point, not politics. All the rest is just deflection.” 

“I have a bank account in Europe,” said Larisa.

“We better get going, then.”