There Won't Be War

Iphigenia Nancy A. Collins

People are always asking me if I like my job or not. Sometimes I wish those reporters and TV people would ask me other things. I get tired of saying the same old stuff over and over again but I always smile and say yes. That’s my job.

I don’t really mind the reporters asking me things and stuff but I wish one of them would think of something new! Being famous is not what I thought it would be back when they started the Contest. I thought being famous was when you got to be on TV and in the paper. I didn’t think it could be boring. I was just a little kid back then. The President always laughs when I say that but he looks sad even when he is smiling. He looks sad a lot. I follow him around all the time, that’s why I know. That he looks sad, I mean. That’s my job.

I’m famous. Everybody knows who I am. I am not bragging or telling lies. I’ve been on the covers of all kinds of magazines since I got my job. Time. U.S. News & World Report, Newsweek. Even Weekly Reader! It was kind of neat, seeing pictures of me with the President and Dr. Ballard. I was even on TV! I bet Marjorie was really mad when she saw me on CNN! Marjorie thinks she’s hot snot because her dad bought her that pony but she’s really cold boogers.

I get to go to Camp David a lot. It’s ok but it isn’t as fun as Camp Tallyho when I went with Aunt Mimi and got to play with other kids and they gave me a neat T-shirt. I also get to go to all these weird countries with the President. It’s part of my job. That’s better than some stupid pony!

Even though I’m famous and everybody in the world knows who I am (I got a birthday present from the Queen! She sent me this really neat doll that used to belong to her grandmother. It’s real old, so Mama doesn’t let me play with it too much, but that’s okay, I guess.) I try not to let it make me stuck-up like Marjorie. Mama says I shouldn’t get a big head. She’s right. I’m real lucky they let her visit me on weekends. At first they said they couldn’t let her come and see me but Dr. Ballard made them change their minds. He said it was important that I needed to feel safe. He said other people might not understand taking a kid away from her mom and dad and making her live in the White House for so long. I don’t know how he talked them into it, but I’m glad Mama is here on Saturday and Sunday.

Dr. Ballard is a nice man. He’s almost as nice as the President. Dr. Ballard spends a lot of time with me and making sure I don’t get weird. He looks after me when Mama isn’t here. He’s the one who came up with this idea. He’s real smart. Some people say he’s a monster, bat they don’t know anything. They think it’s all a trick, that I don’t know what my job is really about. They think that because I’m a kid I don’t know anything. They must think kids are real stupid. Dr. Ballard says they’re just scared and I should feel sorry for them.

Dr. Ballard says that I’m a living symbol of life—not just here in the USA but all over the world. My job is to remind the President of that when things get bad.

I understand a lot about symbols. I understand them a lot better than when I first got into the Contest. A lot of people were against the Contest, but then something happened someplace that made them change their minds.

A bunch of doctors with white coats and clipboards came to our school and gave us a bunch of tests and took our pictures. None of us minded because it got us out of class for the day.

I was the only kid picked from my school. Mama took me to the testing center in another city, and I took some more tests and I talked to more people in white coats. There were other kids at the testing center too. Most of them were my age, which was ok, I guess, although there were a couple of big kids, too. The big kids didn’t pass the second test for some reason.

That’s where I met Dr. Ballard. He was different from the other doctors. He didn’t wear a white coat. He wore a baggy old sweater and a pair of jeans. He smiled a lot, but his eyes were sad. Just like the President. He talked to me about my pets and what I did good in at school and who my friends were, and Marjorie and her dumb pony. The kind of stuff you talk to your grandma and granpa about.

Then Dr. Ballard told me about the job. He explained how I was the only kid in the whole USA that passed the tests. He said that the President and I have something called “empathic resonance,” which means that the President likes me a lot. He told me all the things I would have to do, but he also told me I had to volunteer, No one could make me take the job. Not him, not Mama, not even the President! He told me that if I took the job I could quit when the President quit his job. I’d get lots of money and the Government would pay for my school when I grew up.

He said another kid would take over my job someday, but I would always be the most important, because I would be the first. I would be in the history book just like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson and kids in school would have to know my name on tests! He told me I should think about it before saying yes or no.

I was just a dumb little kid back then. I didn’t know about symbols and how people pay more attention to them than to things that are real. But even if I’d known, I’d have still said yes in the end. I like the President.

Being a little kid is scary. You don’t know the rules of the game that grown-ups play. Sometimes they act like they don’t want you to know. Even if you did know they wouldn’t pay any attention to you anyhow. But I know about The Bomb. All kids know about it.

The first time I heard about The Bomb I got scared and had bad dreams. Then I found out that grownups were scared of it too and how they don’t always understand the rules either. That scared me a lot, but when I talked to Dr. Ballard about it he said sometimes grownups aren’t as smart as you think. He said sometimes they get stuck and kids have to help them.

So, I made up my own mind. Not Mama, not Dr. Ballard, and not the President—no matter what the newspapers say. I did it because I owe it to all the little kids in the world, not because I would be famous and get in the history books. Dr. Ballard says I’m a living symbol that says, “I want to grow up.” If I do well at my job, then all the other countries will have kids just like me. That’s why I’ve written all of these essays for Dr. Ballard. Because it’s history. Writing is ok but I wish I could go outside and play.

I’ve had my job two years now. That means I get to retire soon. The scar from where they opened me up to put in the codes doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s still there. Sometimes the reporters ask me if I can feel the metal thing inside me near my heart. I tell them no, but sometimes I can feel it. Or I think I can. I talked with Dr. Ballard about it and he thinks it’s in my head. I told him no, it’s in my chest. That made him laugh. I almost never see him laugh for real anymore.

I wonder how it will feel when they take the briefcase off my wrist. It doesn’t really bother me. It isn’t heavy at all and the handcuff doesn’t bug me anymore, like it did at first. It did take Mama a long time to get used to carrying it around everywhere I went, but now I don’t really notice it. I don’t think about what’s inside it.

I only got to see the knife the day Dr. Ballard put it inside the briefcase and locked it and gave the key to the President.

A lot of things are happening now. The President keeps going to meetings with the generals from the Pentagon. I have to sit on a chair near the President where they can see me. I spend most of the time coloring or working in my workbook. I don’t understand what the generals say most of the time and it’s boring. Mainly I don’t like the way they look at me. Dr. Ballard says they just don’t want me hanging around. Maybe they think I am a spy or something. That is so dumb! The way they look at me makes me feel real funny, though. When I look back at them, they pretend they weren’t staring at me and they get embarrassed. Sometimes they look at me with this real mean look. Like Marjorie, only worse.

I like the President. I always have. He’s a nice man.

He’s got a granddaughter the same age as me. We even get to play together in the Rose Garden when she comes to visit him. When his dog Tinkerbell has puppies, he said I can have one! He wants me to grow up, he says. I wish his eyes weren’t so sad, but maybe Mama will let me keep it.