The Big One

“I don’t think it was a good deal.” said Ilgman. His sister gave him an incredulous look. They were seated across her kitchen table. The table was empty, but Ilgman’s sister held a crisp sheaf of papers, staring at them incredulously. 

“Thirty-eight percent?” she asked. “Across the board, even, and that’s not a good deal?”

Ilgman shrugged. “They didn’t get the management committee.” he said, shortly. 

“Look, sure, that’s fine.” said his sister. “But they got double what they asked for.”

“That just means the company thinks the committee was worth more.” said Ilgman. He held a hand out across the table. 

His sister gave him back the contract. “Well I think it’s magnificent. They did get the safety committee after all. So what if the workers decide thirty eight percent is worth the management committee.” 

“It’s a defeatist mindset.” said Ilgman as he put the contract away under the paneling of his briefcase. “They’re saying they’re happy with a bigger bribe, and giving up on the right to be their own masters.” 

“If they’d gotten the committee, you’d be complaining that they didn’t hang the boss.” scolded his sister. That annoyed Ilgman. 

“It’s weak leadership.” he said. 

His sister laughed. “Last weak it was the stewards bullying the rank and file, now the leadership isn’t strong enough.” she said. 

“It’s weak ideological leadership.” said Ilgman, showing his annoyance. “It’s bad enough that the rail union is so undemocratic, but the brawlers running the whole thing are just in it for money. They don’t have any political clarity.” He raised his voice higher than he meant to. 

“Well, if you want my comment, I think it’s magnificent.” said his sister, cooly. Ilgman didn’t say anything. His sister added, “And you can leave my name off the piece if you’re just going to prop me up as the opposition and pick it all apart.” 

“Thirty eight percent is good.” admitted Ilgman. 

“You’re right it is.” said his sister. “You’re coming on Tuesday?” 

Ilgman took that as an invitation to leave, and picked up his coat. “Eight oclock right?” he asked.

“Sharp.” said his sister. 

“I’ll be there.” said Ilgman as he stood up. “Rain or shine.”

---

“I don’t think you should use the word ‘ghoul’” said Ilgman. He was sitting on an empty fruit crate on the narrow porch of a tiny house just past the last fence post of the Crown-Republic station. He handed a sheet of paper back to Fin, who sat in a rocking chair. “Ghoul says you don’t like him, but it doesn’t say why.” 

Finn took the paper and looked at it with a blank look. 

“Does that make sense?” asked Ilgman. 

Finn started. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” he said. 

“Call him a monopolist, or something.” said Ilgman. “Other than that it’s good.” 

“What about the spelling?” asked Finn. 

Ilgman nodded. “I fixed all that for you. You picked the right words though.” he stopped, then caught himself. “Mostly.” 

“Isn’t the rest of the story saying why I don’t like him?” asked Finn, staring at the sheet. 

“Well yeah.” said Ilgman, shrugging. “But come on, mostly people just read the headline. You gotta get it out in the headline.” A blast of steam and a whistle cut in from the station. Ilgman glanced over his shoulder. “That’s me.” he said. 

Finn looked up. “What about ‘vampire’?” 

Ilgman raised his eyebrows. “You know what, that’s pretty good.” said Ilgman. Finn grinned, and handed the paper back. 

“You’re welcome to come, of course.” said Ilgman. Finn immediately looked uncomfortable. Ilgman immediately added “You don’t have to, certainly.” 

Finn sighed. “Thank you.” he said. 

Ilgman got up to leave. He started putting on his coat, but before he could say goodbye, Finn interrupted him. “It’s not that I don’t want to.” he said, hesitantly. 

“No really, it’s alright. I understand.” said Ilgman. He smiled. “I have to get going though.” 

“It’s not that! I have a shift.” said Finn. Ilgman paused. “I signed up for an extra shift that day. With, ah, the holidays coming and all.” 

Ilgman was slightly surprised. He smiled warmly. “Ok. You can come to the next one.” He was prepared to say it was a joke. 

“I’d like that.” said Finn. 

Ilgman didn’t know how to react, so he awkwardly hugged Finn. “I’ll make sure to invite you.” he said. He chuckled, then Finn chuckled. 

“I do need to get going though.” said Ilgman. 

“Of course!” said Finn.

---

Ilgman’s telephone rang in the night. He got up, jammed a wad of cotton into the ringer, and went back to bed. This happened, on occasion. Not to him, it had never happened to him. But it was known to happen. 

“Get up.” said Finn. Ilgman rolled over, confused. He got tangled in his sheets. He didn’t try to get untangled. 

“What time is it?” asked Ilgman. He held his alarm clock up to his face in the dark. “It’s three in the morning.” he said.

“We need you at the office.” said Finn. He reached, awkwardly, for Ilgman’s desk. “You’ll need your notebook uncertainly.” he said, after shining a flashlight on the disorganized pile of books and papers on the desk. 

“Not at three in the morning I won’t.” said Ilgman. 

“The railroad’s out on strike.” said Finn.

“I’ll cover it in the morning.” said Ilgman. He said “Why are they out at three in the morning?” Then he shook his head. “I’ll cover it in the morning.” he lay back down. 

“The teamsters are out too.” said Finn. 

Ilgman sat back up. “Why are they out at three in the morning?” He lay back down again. “It’s the teamsters.” he said warmly. 

“And the teachers. And the clerks have shit down the bank.” 

“At three in the morning!?” shouted Ilgman. He tried to sit up. It only tangled the sheets more. “Why in good god’s name are they out at three in the morning?” 

“A man’s been lynched.” said Finn. “They’re calling it a general strike.” 

Ilgman stopped struggling and stared at Fin. “In, Fairevill? A Faireville general strike?” Now that Ilgman was paying attention, he thought Finn looked scared.

“North and Rapids are both out. More word’s still coming in from farther out. Still waiting to hear from Chicago.” said Fin. “Locke, is this the big one?”

Ilgman wrestled himself furiously out of his sheets. “Probably not, but we’re going to go find out, aren’t we.” he said wide awake. 

---

They arrived at the guildhall just before dawn. It was dead silent, but the crowd was overflowing into the street. Everyone’s attention was fixed towards the inside. 

“What’s everyone waiting on?” asked Ilgman. 

“News from Chicago, probably.” said Finn. No one in the crowd responded to either of them, and Ilgman looked at him annoyed. 

Ilgman pushed his way into the crowd. Firmly, but without force he imposed his way past the worker families. Once he was inside the door, pushing through the lobby, he asked again. “What’s everyone waiting for.” he got a couple of looks demanding silence.

Then someone said, “News from Chicago.” Ilgman pushed through the lobby into the main hall. 

Inside the hall, workers, members of every union in the city, and even a few who weren’t affiliated at all, stared at the stage. The president of the teachers union, informal head of the unions at large, stood impatiently over the hall’s telephone, holding the earpiece to her ear. The other union presidents stood around her, one conspicuously leaning towards her, ear forward. 

When Ilgman reached the front of the hall, she held her hand over the mouthpiece, and whispered something in the next man’s ear. 

“The vote in Chicago just ended, they’re tallying them now.” he announced, as she listened intently to the telephone. Ilgman took out his notepad, noted the time, and wrote this down. 

Several minutes later, the president of the teacher’s union put her hand on the other man’s arm, and gripped tightly. Then she hung up the phone. There was a burst of chatter, which died down just as fast, as everyone, startled, waited to hear her announcement. 

“Given that the rail workers didn’t win their management council, we are all together to vote a council to coordinate strike activities, and town business.” she said. The chatter began again. “And to elect delegates to a state assembly.”

A shout from the back rang out “What’s that mean?” 

She folded her muscular army and grinned. “This is the big one.” 

Ilgman was born forward on a wave of shouting. Everyone embraced everyone else, and in the midst of it, shock on his face, he forced himself onto the stage with the rest of the surging workers, and put himself in front of the president. She looked at him in surprise, but he couldn’t find the words. She hugged him.

“A, statement?” he asked lamely. 

She laughed at the question, and began singing. The rest of them followed suit.