by Paul Dueweke
CHAPTER TEN
Sherwood Hits the Trail
“I’d say a couple of hundred students will show up for that event,” Burns said. She sat near the end of the same table at which she’d interviewed Elliott earlier that day. A life-size hologram of the state CBS director sat at the head of the table. Hundreds of miles away, the same conference was taking place between the state director and a hologram of Burns in his conference room.
“Good!” said the state director. “That’s all I have on my agenda. Now I’d like you to speak with our new field liaison officer, Sherwood, about the old guy you talked to today.” The state director’s hologram faded out and Sherwood faded in, standing directly across the table from Burns. He peered down at her over his pipe. The smoke billowed upward and out of the hologram leaving no trace.
“Tell me what happened, Burns,” he said.
“Got a cold call from an old guy who wants to volunteer for the party. Says it’s some kind of public service thing. Sounds sincere, or he’s a hell of an actor. Not sure what to make of it. His name’s Elliott T. Townsend. Says he just retired and wants to help people, or something. Ever hear of anything so bizarre?”
“His party affiliation?” Sherwood questioned.
“Claims not to be affiliated. He used to volunteer for the Libertarian Party when he was in college. You ever hear of that one?”
“Did he say anything about some files he may have acquired from the University?”
“What kind of files?” A period of silence followed. “No.”
“Did he seem suspicious of the candidates?”
“Not just the candidates, but the whole political process.”
“Do you trust him?” Sherwood asked.
“You can’t trust anybody as far out as him.”
“Anything else?”
“No,” said Burns.
“Let me know if he makes any further contact.”
“Okay.”
“But do not contact him.”
Sherwood reached for a button, and the holograms at each end of the conference evaporated.
PART TWO
Sherwood
—the past—
“But lo, men have become the tools of their tools.”
— Henry David Thoreau