by Jake Devlin
"Finally, I'll be conducting a televised press conference on Tuesday afternoon, starting at one p.m., for all journalists with White House credentials, so I'd suggest you gather your thoughts and questions and be prepared for an interesting afternoon. I hope all of you can come up with some great 'gotcha' questions, which I will certainly welcome, other than questions which try to get me to play in that sandbox on one side or the other.
"Oh, a few quick additional things I almost forgot. First, no more anchor babies, and for those anchor babies who are now under ten years old, the rights and benefits given to them and their relatives have been revoked as of this moment.
"Second, if you remember when the dollar was on the gold standard, we're going to do the same thing, but instead of gold, we'll use oil. So the value of the dollar will now be one-sixtieth of one barrel of West Texas Intermediate crude oil, or sixty bucks a barrel, and one-seventieth of one barrel of Brent North Sea crude, or seventy bucks a barrel, as of right now. Sorry, longs; and shorts, don't gloat.
"Third, speaking of oil, and energy in general, I have issued directives that ensure that drilling on federal lands and waters and the construction of nuclear power plants will require only NOTICE, not permits and approvals and environmental impact statements and other bureaucratic delaying tactics. I've also approved the Keystone pipeline, with a few restrictions.
"Fourth, Obamacare, mostly gone; Dodd-Frank, totally re-evaluated, mostly gone; cap and trade, never.”
A mixture of applause and boos filled Slinky Joe's.
"Fifth, I will have a budget prepared by February 1st, 2012, for the rest of this fiscal year that will reduce spending by a minimum of 20 percent, and by May 31st, we'll have a budget for FY 2013 that has a minimum 33 percent reduction. And that is based on current spending, NOT projected baselines. The FY 2014 budget will be balanced, with possibly even a slight surplus.
“Finally, I would also invite all the economists out there to submit their analyses of the economic impact of the policies I've put in place, including everything that will be on the web site this evening, and to include charts of their predictions of GDP, deficits and debt over the next 20 years, using both static and dynamic analysis. The CBO and OMB will be doing that, as well, all to be in my office by close of business this coming Monday.
"With that, I wish you all a very good evening, and for those of you who will want to do your analyses, a very busy and productive weekend. And a very happy holiday season to all. Good night."
In the back office, Joe turned to Pete and said, "Well, looks like it's gonna be a long weekend. Wow."
Pete replied, "Yup, but you're the numbers guy. I'll get back out there and see how the customers are taking that all in and get Salt and Pepper back onstage, get things going again."
Marion leaned over to George and said, "Honey, let's pay the bill and get home; I need to look at those directives as soon as they're online." George smiled, reached for his wallet and said, "Omaha." He dropped a twenty on the table, heaved himself out of his chair, grabbed his walker and shuffled toward the door. Marion did a quick calculation in her head, opened her purse, dropped another twenty, sighed, rolled her eyes and headed after George.
Darryl poked Debbie, who was still asleep and snoring, and said, "Let's go out to my truck." Debbie opened her eyes groggily, slurred, "Mmm, okay," and they staggered out of the bar. They returned ten minutes later.
-6-
Saturday, December 10, 2011
2:25 a.m. (8:25 p.m. EST)
St. Tropez, France
A man with many names clicked from a 24-hour news channel to the local French news channel, checked the time on his diamond-encrusted watch, took another sip from his glass of the most expensive wine in the world and smiled at his reflection in the window of his villa overlooking the marina in St. Tropez. In the light of the full moon, he could just make out the imposing silhouette of his 39-meter yacht, custom built to his precise specifications. But that was not why he was smiling. What curved the corners of his mouth slightly up was the certain knowledge that his skills as the world's most talented assassin would soon be called for, and aside from his standard fee of 20 million euros, he knew he would enjoy the challenge. He had no doubt as to the target; his only curiosity was who the client might turn out to be.
But as he settled back into his hot tub with the latest novel by the author who put Sanibel on the literary map, he had no inkling that before everything was over, he would have contracts from nineteen discrete (and, of course, discreet) clients, all with the same target ... and the same fee, of course. So he would make a real killing by making a real killing.
-7-
Friday, December 9, 2011
8:45 p.m. EST
Cyberspace
As soon as Donne's speech concluded, hackers both in and out of Anonymous began spreading the word that at precisely 9:58 p.m., the most massive Denial of Service (DOS) attack ever attempted would begin, and by 8:45, the instructions for that had spread to over five thousand individual hackers, each of whom controlled an average of 178.3 computers scattered all around the world. In gleeful anticipation of shutting down the servers at Donne Enterprises, many of them ran upstairs to raid their parents' pantries and refrigerators for provisions, mostly corn chips, potato chips and chocolate sodas, and then scurried back down to their basements.
* * * * * *
8:45 p.m. EST
Bonita Springs, FL
Marion headed to their riverfront mansion on the south side of their luxurious gated community. Once she got inside and got George comfortably settled in his recliner, she got on the phone and called all of her friends in her book club, investment club and even a few of the Bonita Hookers (they hooked rugs) to make sure they all knew what had happened and were ready to go online at ten and watch the replay, as well as digging into the directives.
* * * * * *
8:45 p.m. EST
Bonita Springs, FL
Back at Slinky Joe's, Joe was in the office, going over his notes, Pete was out front, going table to table, chatting with the many people who remained, Salt and Pepper were back on stage, and Debbie was alone on the dance floor, unsteadily shaking and wriggling her scrawny body as provocatively as she could. Darryl was sitting bleary-eyed at the bar, sipping his eighth beer; three to go before he'd try to drive the nine miles back to his trailer park, hoping to avoid another DUI.
* * * * * *
8:45 p.m. EST
The Capitol
Washington, DC
On the House floor, now-ex-Members of Congress and Supreme Court justices had been heatedly discussing the events of the day and ways in which they might resist Donne's surprise takeover. Never in the history of the building had the decibel level come anywhere near what it was this evening … and it was bipartisan.
At 8:45, the doors opened and hundreds of side-armed Marines in battle fatigues swarmed the chamber, and, in pairs, escorted each Member to his or her office and oversaw the removal of all personal items and the exit of each from the premises, during which all phones were given back and notices not to return were distributed.
A similar process was followed with each Supreme Court justice, and with absent Members of Congress over the next few weeks.
-8-
Friday, December 9, 2011
9:59:59 p.m. EST
Donne Enterprises International Server Farm
The duty technician flipped a switch and all the sites and mirror sites went live. On the home page, just below the "Replay Speech" link, the First Directive stated that "Each and every directive issued by this office shall include by reference the following: 'Any and all constitutional provisions, statutes, case law, common law, executive orders, regulations, ordinances and/or rules of any type, at any level of government, federal, state or local, are hereby declared null and void as they run counter to this directive only, but shall remain in effect for all other purposes.'" Below that was an index by topic.
In the security office, the
duty technician watched as DEI's anti-hacking algorithms recognized the DOS attacks and automatically and rapidly disabled the IP addresses involved in the attacks; all the mirror sites stayed online. Nobody accessing the sites experienced any difficulty. This event also provided feedback for DEI's cybersecurity staff in defending against cyberattacks from China, Iran and other countries in the future.
But in nearly five thousand basements around the world, corn chips, potato chips and chocolate soda dropped and/or spilled on keyboards, mice and floors.
* * * * * *
Friday, December 9, 2011
9:01 p.m. CST (10:01 EST)
Dothan, Alabama
Steven O. Burns, Esquire, logged on from his office at the national trial lawyers society's headquarters, clicked on the link for "Legal Reform," read the entire section, downloaded and printed it all, then picked up the phone and dialed.
"Speak."
"It's bad, John. Not only has he doubled our tax rate and banned advertising, he's ordered 'loser pays,' and he's limiting any lawyer in federal courts to a 5% contingency fee, 2% for class actions, and a max of $100 per hour for individual clients, $200 for businesses, with a max of two lawyers per side."
"WHAT? That's price-fixing!"
"Not only that, but any lawyer who files a frivolous or nuisance lawsuit will be fined 10% of his total assets, NOT net worth, for the first offense, 30% for a second and 50% for a third and beyond, and that's NOT billable to clients. And he can unilaterally declare ANY lawsuit frivolous or a nuisance, even in state and local courts."
"Jesus."
"Same thing goes for what he's calling 'egregious delaying tactics' and for over-billing and double-billing. He's also cutting off lawsuits under the Americans with Disabilities Act, as well as environmental suits, even below the federal level."
"Christ."
"And he's encouraging the states to follow his examples."
"Shit. We've got to do something. We'll sue the sonofabitch."
"We'll figure something out. But I've got a lot more to do on all of these directives. I've just scratched the surface."
"I've got the site split between all our top guys, so you just stick with the section you're on and we'll all go over the whole thing Sunday afternoon at headquarters. Two o'clock."
"Got it; two o'clock. See ya then, John."
"Keep at it, Steve."
* * * * * *
Overnight
Cyberspace
Within minutes of Donne's speech, the brouhaha that had engaged the blogosphere and all social media since early in the day, when a few leaks came out about something happening (although no one seemed to have a clear handle on the actual facts) transformed itself into all-out chaos and full-blown polarization, both with paid bloggers from every special interest and with amateurs. It quickly degenerated, as it usually did, into personal attacks by one commenter on another … or on all the others. “SSDD,” as one comment read.
-9-
Six Months Earlier
Sunday, June 12, 2011
11:08 a.m.
Bonita Beach, Florida
Eight men and one woman were working the beach and the shallow waters with metal detectors. The two men in waist-deep water were methodically repeating the grid patterns they'd run every weekend day for several years, but the six men and one woman on the beach appeared to be total newbies, wandering aimlessly, awkwardly swinging their detectors back and forth, finding nothing. But if one listened closely to the two in the water, one could hear them muttering to each other as they passed, "Goddamn penny pitchers."
Pam set her beach bag down, flipped open a chair and slithered into it, giving Jake a winning smile and batting her blues at him over her elegant sunglasses.
"Just call me Pam."
"And you can call me Jake, okay?"
"Okay, Jake."
Jake reached into his beach bag briefly, then into his cooler, pulled out a plastic sandwich bag, held it out to her and said, "I've always wanted to say this. Want a cookie, little girl?"
Pam laughed, a deep, open laugh, and said, with an exaggerated Southern belle accent, "Why, suh, I hardly know you." Then, dropping the accent, "Don't mind if I do. Homemade?"
"Not by a long shot. Closest I come to the C-word is heating cinnamon rolls from a tube in a convection oven."
"The C-word?"
"Hard for me to even say it ... c-c-c-cook."
"Oh." Pam chuckled as she reached into the bag. "But wouldn't that be the B-word?"
"The B-word?'"
Pam chuckled. "Bake."
"There's a difference?" Jake said, looking blank and naive.
Pam looked at him quizzically.
"Sorry, just pulling your leg. They're from a dollar store, a buck a bag."
Pam took a bite, carefully licking all the crumbs from her lips. "Mmm, that's good. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Pam glanced at the water over Jake's shoulder and giggled. Jake turned and saw a little girl, maybe a year and a half old, putting wet sand in her mouth. A teenaged girl, maybe her older sister, said, "Tara, don't eat the sand. It's not dinnertime yet." Jake chuckled, and when the girl and the toddler came past him on the way back to their chairs, he asked the girl if he could use her line in his novel. She said, "Sure." Jake wrote briefly in his notebook.
Then he turned back to Pam and smiled.
"So, Pam, what brings a gorgeous young woman like you to visit an old fart like me?"
"Well, thanks for that, Jake, but I'm not that young. And you don't look that old." She paused, wrinkled her brow and continued, "I guess after the emails we've swapped, I just wanted to meet you in person and, well, see what makes you tick and how you came to be writing this book of yours."
"Hmm. Okay. Long story or short?"
"Whatever you want; I've got all day."
Jake smiled. "Okay. But first I've gotta tell ya that it's incredibly hard for me to be serious for very long. My record so far is three and a half minutes. All right. So here goes.
“About four, five years ago, I was living in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, hanging out at the beach, and I thought I'd write a book about all the stuff I was seeing and hearing about, like the history and people's experiences and anecdotes of life there. There was all kinds of interesting stuff on the beach, too. So I got it all done and ready for publication, with the title 'Myrtle Beach Memories.'”
"Nice title.”
"Yeah. And then another guy up there put together a lot of photos of women in bikinis, called it 'Myrtle Beach Mammaries,' and started selling it to tourists. So when I started to try selling mine … well, let's put it this way. The boobs were more interested in boobs.”
Pam stifled a laugh. “Oh, I'm sorry. That must have hurt.”
"Yup, and after a while, I quit trying to sell the book.
“But as I was talking with people up there, many of them were also saying a lot of political things, mostly angry with the government, similar to the stuff in the first part of Donne's speech.”
"And this was when again?”
"Um, '05 until maybe early '08 – no, middle of '08, fallish, just after TARP and the Lehman bankruptcy and all that stuff.
"So I started asking people up there more political questions, and as we moved toward the election, people's opinions got more and more polarized and sometimes downright vicious, but most all of them were pretty angry, on both sides. And they were VERY emotional, but not very rational and reasonable.”
"I remember that, all around the country, not just Myrtle Beach.”
"And it got even worse after the election.”
"So are you a Republican or a Dem- – oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking that.”
"Neither, actually, but I don't tell anybody who I vote for.”
"No problem; I can understand that. Sorry.”
"Anyhow, then I decided to go somewhere else and do the same kind of thing. I bumped into a web site, DiscoverBonitaSprings.com, liked what I saw and mo
ved here in, um, April? Yeah, April of '09. And I found the same kind of political anger here. And then --”
A somewhat heavyset woman in her mid-fifties, jogging by near the waterline, waved and said, "Hi, Jake."
"Oh, hey, Dr. Deb. How ya doing?"
Dr. Deb paused, jogging in place. "Fine, fine. You?"
"Mostly sunny. Pam, this is Dr. Debbie Jackson; Dr. Deb, Pam."
"Nice to meet you, Pam."
"Same here."
"See y'all later." She jogged off.
Pam looked back at Jake. "Dr. Deb?"
"Yup. She's a psychologist, private practice. She let me use her for the Debbie Jackson character ... well, her name, at least."
"That's the skanky one in Slinky Joe's?"
"Right."
"Cool." She paused. "So then?"
"Well, then I started trying to think about all those opinions and a lot of the anger, get some perspective on it all.
"You've seen the approval rating of Congress, right?"