Who Chose George?

At times over the past three years it has been hard to know which story to believe about George W. Bush--the one about the pretender who was plotting to seize the throne, or the one about the reluctant son of the noble family who wasn't even sure whether he wanted to be King. This week, as he roars out of Texas with so much money and momentum behind him that people can't agree on whether this is the campaign's beginning or its end, the best way to grasp what has happened may be to imagine that both stories are true.

The plotting began, so quietly, not long after the last presidential campaign ended, if not always by Bush himself, then by those close to him. When the subject came up with their 5,000 closest friends, his parents suggested, ever so graciously, that they might not want to invest in any other candidates until they saw what young George was going to do. Michigan Governor John Engler, meanwhile, was recruiting a mighty power base among the nation's G.O.P. Governors, the only Republicans who got away with their shirts after the 1998 elections. From his nest down in Austin, campaign guru Karl Rove lured moneymen and operatives from every important state into a Virtual Smoke-Filled Room built out of calls and faxes and 300 e-mails a day. And all the while, Prince George stayed home, breaking all the rules of politics and inventing his own. He went nowhere near Iowa or New Hampshire, gave few big speeches, held no fund raisers, cruised to a crushing re-election victory in Texas and pulled in more than $7 million just in the month after he announced he might run.

But by the time the party had fallen at his feet with the nomination on a velvet cushion, he had to launch a whole other campaign, more private, but just as important. Of the thousands of conversations he was having, the most interesting was the one he was having with himself. Bush is the son of a man who ran four times. He knows what it means to hang up your life in the closet and pack your heart and health and conscience into a carry-on bag, and then set out for the airport and never look back. It wouldn't be much fun. He wasn't sure he was ready. And he wasn't sure the time was right.

Funny thing about timing, though. It turns out that this may be the perfect time for a candidate with doubts. People like him without knowing much about him because he doesn't seem to want it too much. What could be more appealing, coming after a President who started running before he could walk and seemed willing to sacrifice anyone to win and hold onto the White House? And how better to reach out to voters who think the system is rotten but are too detached even to be disgusted anymore? Bush's wife Laura has the campaign slogan for the Age of Indifference: "You know, it doesn't matter," she told TIME. "If he wins, it'll be great. If he doesn't, we still have a life."