by Edward Aubry
He stayed there for what he estimated was at least an hour. He had been sitting in a plush chair with paisley velvet upholstery, reading a forty-year-old copy of The New York Times (which evidenced absolutely no sign of age or wear), when they finally came for him. There was a soft courtesy knock on the door right before it opened, as though Harrison was somehow in the position to grant or deny anyone entrance to this room. He chuckled softly and shook his head.
Alec came one step into the room, hand still on the doorknob. "Mr. Cody? The president will see you now."
Harrison heard the words. His mind raced to reevaluate his position. Somehow, he had just been given an upper hand. He could not guess why, but he did not want to squander it. He counted to five before looking up from the paper, then waited a beat before standing. He was determined to appear neither frightened nor angry. He was, of course, terrified and furious, but he saw no immediate advantage in exploring those feelings.
"Right, then," said Alec. "Shall we?"
"Do let's," said Harrison. An affected taunt. He congratulated himself silently on Alec's unequivocally perturbed facial expression. Harrison one, he thought.
Full of himself, he went to meet the president.
Chapter Fourteen
The President
Harrison was taken to another room in the same building. Waiting for him were several people he had not met yet, all of whom rose as he came in the door. Two of them were older men, one dressed in a jacket and tie, the other in a military uniform, army, Harrison guessed. There was an Asian woman Harrison estimated to be a bit older than himself. She was also wearing a uniform, although he could not distinguish which branch of the military she belonged to. Navy, perhaps. It was dark blue, with huge epaulets, and looked more like a costume than a real uniform. Next, there was a thin man with glasses and long hair who smiled and fidgeted a lot. The remaining two women were dressed in civilian clothes. One looked to be in her late forties or older. Her hair was dark with gray streaks and cut about as short as his had just been. She wore a charcoal gray jacket over a white blouse. The other looked extremely young, perhaps in her teens. She had a distant look to her, and her long, dark hair appeared to have faint green and blue highlights. Harrison was suspicious of her inclusion in this meeting, in part, he admitted to himself, because he found her distractingly attractive.
One of these people, he supposed, would be the President of The Republic of New Chicago. He hoped it was not one of the ones in uniform, as political leaders in military garb were not, in his understanding of world history, usually icons of freedom. He also hoped it wasn't the sullen, punky (but beautiful) teenager, although he considered that likelihood slight. The idea of this meeting suddenly troubled him, although he wasn't quite able to sort out why. He was, he supposed, disturbed by the notion that the people of Chicago (no, make that the people in Chicago, few of whom would actually be from here, if their experiences had been even remotely like his own) would already have felt that the time had come to form a new nation. It seemed premature. Presumptuous. Someone had felt the need to reestablish a government, and as a rule, Harrison distrusted politicians. He had not been made to answer to any sort of government in a long time, and although he did not consider himself an anarchist by nature, he had developed a taste for the lifestyle.
More troubling by far was the idea that he had been brought to the attention of the leader of this new government. His plan, if it could be called such, had been to insert himself quietly into whatever community he could find when he got to Chicago (and he had considered, quite often, the possibility that it would be a community of a very few, or even of two). He had not imagined that he would end up assuming any role of leadership or importance. He wasn't sure if that was happening now, but he had certainly already drawn more attention to himself than he wanted.
"Madame President," said Alec, "this is Harrison Cody." The older civilian woman held her hand out to Harrison.
"I'm Louise Hatfield," she said. The name was familiar, and he tried to recall if Alec had mentioned it already. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She was friendly, though unsmiling.
He shook her hand. "Madame President," he heard himself say. The formality felt irregular.
She gestured to the cluster of chairs arranged around a coffee table at which she and the others had been sitting. "Please make yourself comfortable."
He thought about saying that he preferred to stand, but decided that would sound belligerent and stupid. Besides, it wasn't true. He took a seat. It was not quite as comfy as the chair in the waiting room, but it was nice.
"When can I see my children?" He surprised himself with his own question. It had been chief among the many things he planned to ask, but he was going to wait for the perfect opening. It turned out to be too important to him to wait.
"I suppose that depends on this interview," the president answered, and Harrison bit his tongue. That bungle would cost him rhetoric points that he couldn't afford to lose. He would have to hold that topic in reserve now, despite the fact that it was his foremost-possibly only-concern. "Would you care for something to drink?" she asked. He saw, arranged on the table, several glasses of water, a coffee mug, and a rock glass with what looked like whiskey over ice.
"I'd love a glass of water," he said, playing it safe. There were already a pitcher and several empty glasses on the table. She poured him one. He sipped at it politely, then put it down on the table.
"Mr. Cody," the president said, "I'd like you to meet some of my staff." The men were introduced as Secretary Reuben, General Berry, and Doctor Tucker, and the uniformed woman as Doctor Lee. They had titles, which Harrison instantly forgot, except for Doctor Lee, who was introduced as the Surgeon General of New Chicago. That explained the odd uniform. The girl was introduced simply as Susan. He shook hands with each of them in turn, apart from Susan, who was sitting just out of reach, and who nodded instead of moving. General Berry regarded him with a reserve similar to what he had come to expect from Alec. Tucker seemed to have trouble maintaining eye contact for more than a second at a time. Reuben and Lee seemed genuinely pleasant.
"And, of course, you already know Director Baker," the president continued, indicating Alec, who was still standing.
"Of course." Harrison smiled. "Always a pleasure, Alec."
"Yes," the director replied coldly. "Madame President, unless you have further need of me?"
"Not at all," she said. "Will you be in your office?"
"There are some cases down at immigration that require my attention," he said. "They've been a bit of a back burner of late." He glanced at Harrison and continued. "I'll be at the Welcome Center if you need to reach me."
"Thank you, Director." After he nodded, and left, President Hatfield turned to Harrison, and without further preamble, said, "I imagine you have quite a few questions."
It was not the tactic he expected. He had gotten used to the surreal, but this situation flabbergasted him. He couldn't tell if he was safe, he couldn't tell if he had the advantage, so he tried to put the ball back over the net. "Why don't you anticipate some of them?"
"All right," she said. "You are currently a guest of the Republic of New Chicago. The nation was founded on July 4, 2003, and, yes, the symbolism was intentional. Our constitution was ratified the same day, general elections were held July 8, and the government installed on July 14. We are a democratic republic, modeled closely after the United States Constitution, but with some necessary modifications for matters of geography and population." She spoke like a politician, reciting a stock answer fluidly and expertly.
Harrison put up his hand to cut short the civics lesson. "Am I still under arrest?"
She looked at the man she had introduced as Secretary Reuben. "Your call," he said bluntly.
"No," she said, turning back to Harrison. "Your detention was unfortunate. Once this meeting is over, you will be released. You will also be encouraged to apply for citizenship."
Harrison felt an opening. He stuck h
is foot in. "That's not an apology," he said.
"No," she agreed. "It is not. I said it was unfortunate, not that it was the wrong decision."
"Then why did you let me out at all?" he asked. "I mean, you didn't really ask me much, and I've hardly given you a reason to trust me." He was taking a risk to pursue this line of questioning, but he was certain, somehow, that he had an edge here, and he needed to know what it was.
"No," she agreed again. "You haven't. It would have gone a long way toward putting us all at ease if you had come in the front door like every other immigrant." She leaned back, steepling her fingers. "In point of fact, Mr. Cody, you're a special case. The reality is that we have no solid reason not to trust you, and, if I may cut to the chase, we need you on board. The sooner the better."
This was it. "On board? Meaning?"
She paused. General Berry coughed. "Are you at all curious," she asked slowly, "about your gift with locks?"
Struggling to project apathy, Harrison willed every muscle in his face to relax. "Not really," he said.
She smiled. "Be careful, Mr. Cody. We'd still like to trust you, remember?"
It was a lie, of course, but not the lie she thought it was. Harrison's default assumption was, had to be, that Glimmer had done something to him. She had given him this ability while he wasn't looking and never mentioned it. She must have. Because that's the kind of pixie she was: watching his back, preserving his pride, all in one tidy package. An ability, magical but subtle. He wouldn't say that, though. Glimmer was his holdout. They would get nothing about her. He couldn't bear the thought that her memory would end up as a footnote in some tactician's file cabinet. If he pretended that he didn't care where the thing with locks came from, maybe they wouldn't pry. It was a ridiculous plan, but right then it was all he had.
"It's not magic," said Dr. Tucker. Both the speaker and his words caught Harrison by surprise.
"What? What do you mean?" he asked.
"Your ability to open locks," Tucker explained. "It's not a magical phenomenon. It's a hyper-specific application of, for lack of a better term, telekinesis. Your unconscious mind identifies a lock and activates a trigger, which projects a field that moves whatever physical components are necessary to open it." He moved his hands as he spoke, and looked from person to person around the table. "We think it's a new particle, but we haven't been able to detect it yet. The effects are quite measurable and predictable, though."
Harrison was stunned. This freaky lock immunity he had was, somehow, explainable by science. After everything he had seen, this was the last thing he expected. "You've seen this before?" he asked. The shock on his face betrayed him, he was sure, but he did not care.
Tucker shook his head. "Not specifically with locks, no, but the effect is almost identical to some other manifestations of this field we have observed. For each subject, the focus appears to be unique, but the mechanism is always the same."
Telekinesis. He tried to wrap his mind around it, but it was too big. "How many people have this … this field thing?"
Tucker looked at Secretary Reuben. "This is your purview," he said. "Entirely up to you."
Reuben nodded. "Four," he said to Harrison, "including yourself. That's just cases observed here in Chicago. Without knowing what variables are involved, it would be impossible to speculate how many cases exist world-wide. One thing we do know, the other three all report that the ability first manifested after the events of May 25. Unless you can contradict that, we have been proceeding from the assumption that this ability was created by whatever force altered the world. The only other thing the four of you have in common is something that really shouldn't be a factor in any way."
Harrison had to ask. "And that is what?"
"It's fascinating, actually," said Tucker, and he grinned. "All four of you have historically significant birth dates."
"Like Bicentennial Day."
"For example," Tucker replied. "Yes."
"Four," Harrison said. "Out of how many people here?" He looked at the president.
"About ten thousand," she said.
Harrison became momentarily dizzy, though he felt he concealed it well. That was far, far more survivors than he had expected. It was so much better than he had hoped.
Tucker continued. "I should stress that there may be more cases we haven't observed. Of the four known cases, apart from you, only one other person shows the ability with any dramatic effect, so there may be many subtle manifestations of the field that we simply haven't caught yet. We can test for it, but the tests are time-consuming and vary from manifestation to manifestation, so it would be impossible to test everyone. The best we can do is test an already unexplained observation. We have to find those first."
This was obviously a topic in which Dr. Tucker had a passionate interest, and he likely could spend the rest of the day cheerfully describing his research. Harrison had already hit his information saturation point, however, and needed to ground this idea, somehow. "Are you saying I'm some kind of superhero?" he asked. It was a clumsy, puerile question, and he suddenly felt like an idiot for asking it.
Dr. Tucker seemed strangely intrigued by the notion. "I suppose," he said. "After a fashion. That's what I'm saying." He sounded amused, but his tone was not mocking. "I hadn't thought of it in those terms before. Actually, in your case, the specific manifestation would be less suited for fighting crime than for committing-"
"Yes, well," General Berry interrupted. "We have other matters to discuss."
"Agreed," said the president. "Here's the bottom line, Mr. Cody. We live in a world in which everything we know is now horribly wrong. This nation was formed, in part, to create an opportunity for the people who remain to combine our resources. Ultimately, our goal is to create the safest possible environment for the human race. We are also devoting a tremendous amount of manpower to research. To determine what happened in the first place. And find out if it might be reversible."
"May I ask," Harrison interjected, "why none of this was mentioned in Claudia's broadcasts?" He had had no idea what to expect when he got here, and he assumed no one else had, either. Now that he had arrived, he was feeling that he had been given something of a bait and switch.
The president frowned. "Security considerations. It was felt that the safest way to build a community of this sort from scratch would be to draw people in with no preconceived notions." She looked away. "It was a controversial decision."
"I'll bet," Harrison said.
She looked back at him. "Needless to say, your rare talent makes you an invaluable resource. There may be broader applications beyond what you can do to locks, and we would be willing to help you explore them. We would like you to stay on. Become a part of what we're trying to accomplish here."
There it was. Of all the things that could be happening to him in this insane, scrambled, perilous world, he was getting a job offer. "So I'm a resource," he said. "Do you consider magic a resource, too? You've got a border of yarn that has a spell on it to keep people out, don't you?" He was very impressed by how clever he sounded with that accusation. The truth was that he was only just now figuring it out. He knew that the yarn barrier had been impenetrable, but he had been so busy falling under its spell that it hadn't occurred to him why it was there in the first place.
"It was an expedient," she said unapologetically.
So they've been using magic, he thought. The very idea stirred anger and fear in him. His experiences had taught him that magic was no simple tool. It belonged in the hands of beings like Glimmer, not himself, and certainly not these people. They're playing a dangerous game. And here he had been worried what would happen if he told them about one little pixie. An expedient, she had called it. What a cold description. A politician's euphemism. And then he connected the dots. He mentally kicked himself for not picking up on it sooner. "You're that Louise Hatfield. Senator Hatfield. Aren't you?"
"I prefer to be called President Hatfield these days," she said humorlessly, "but,
yes, I am that person."
"God, this must all be so exciting for you! What a grand opportunity to start up your very own pretend government!" When he thought that this woman had been an ordinary citizen, thrust into greatness by extraordinary events, he had been intimidated by her. Ironically, now that Harrison had realized she had actually been famous and powerful before, intimidation vanished. Her motives for him were now called into question.
She did not care for the turn in Harrison's attitude. "You will find, Mr. Cody, that the government of New Chicago, and the laws herein, are quite real. I'd be happy to arrange a tour of the capitol if you'd like. Or the prison."
"It's a perfectly harmless spell," Reuben interjected. "The inhibitor. It's not to keep them out, it's to herd them to the Welcome Center. It projects a mild anxiety aura so that anyone who comes too close to it feels too nervous to touch it or cross it. The same effect causes the target to feel an obligation to find a breach in the line. It's quite effective. And efficient."
"If you had followed it far enough," Hatfield added smugly, "you would have found that front door I was talking about earlier."
"You just used the word 'target' to describe a twelve-year-old girl, who sobbed uncontrollably when she got near your 'harmless' spell." Harrison's sudden rage was evident. Hatfield's smugness diminished by a degree. At his mention of Dorothy, he found his desire to ask about her and Mitchell's fate more difficult to resist. Frustration enhanced his indignation. "Are you people insane? Do you really think you can control this stuff? Do you have any idea what's out there?" In his fury, he debated telling them everything he had seen. He still wasn't sure he could trust them, but if they were doing something as dumb-assed as casting spells around their entire border, it seemed to him that they could potentially do more harm through stupidity than actual evil.
Reuben spoke up. "We have every idea what's out there, Mr. Cody, which is why it is so urgent for us to take every precaution."