by Ginger Booth
Hacker-side Amen1 Dave, elegantly tweedy as usual, stood alone. His posture telegraphed that he wasn’t associated with any of these idiots. Joining Carlos and me on the video avatar line-up were Leland of Canadian Intelligence, and Genghis, a middle-aged black man who, like Dave, insisted he was not the leader of the Amen1 hackers.
I assumed one of them was lying. Why not? Everyone else was.
“Hi, Dave,” I said sunnily. “Everyone.”
“Dee! Good to see you,” Dave returned in kind. He checked his oh-so-expensive watch. I took the hint.
“Welcome, everyone! We’ll get started in just a few minutes,” I cried out. Mangal and I were the ones who insisted on punctual meetings. “Mel, I think it’s time your guests exit the room.” I maintained a pleasant but demanding smile.
“Dee,” Mel objected, “I invited –”
“I’m sure you did, Mel,” I overrode him. “But this is a steering committee meeting,” I insisted. “Of course, DJ is welcome to stay. Good to see you, DJ.”
I gave an extra warm smile for DJ, who returned it with interest. DJ inherited Resco of New Haven from Emmett when Emmett left to run Project Reunion. DJ had a right to be here whenever he felt like it.
“I don’t believe Shelley has joined the steering committee, though,” I added.
“She hasn’t,” Dave confirmed. “So good to see you, Shelley. Move along.”
Dave and DJ worked together to show all the extras the door. DJ elected to stay and take a seat near Popeye, who remained standing, pumping his fists and glaring at Mel.
“I believe it’s time,” I said. Mel had called the meeting, not me. But if he wanted respect, he shouldn’t have brought enough goons to outnumber the proper staff three to one. “Let’s begin.”
Popeye hauled off and punched Mel in the eye, then finally sat down. DJ remained seated through this, legs crossed, observing with interest. He made no move to stop the attack.
“Thank you, Popeye,” I acknowledged, and prompted, “Mel, Carlos and I didn’t receive an agenda?”
“He hit me! You let him hit me!” Mel spluttered. “Dee, you said you had my back!”
“I do, Mel,” I agreed. “That was simply unavoidable. Best to get it over with.” Leland, Genghis, Dave, Will, Carlos, and DJ all nodded, some grinning. We unanimously judged Popeye’s punch perfectly reasonable under the circumstances. Mel had it coming.
“But he punched me!” Mel yelled.
“Want to punch him back?” I inquired. “I don’t recommend it. Popeye, have you gotten enough out of your system? Able to enter a constructive dialogue for the next hour?”
Popeye hurled a string of profanity and invective lurid and disgusting even by his exacting standards. DJ ducked twice as Popeye’s muscle-bound biker arms, rich in tribal tattoos, windmilled to stress his points.
“Yes, Popeye means to say,” the elegant Dave claimed on his behalf.
“Excellent,” I encouraged. “The thing is, Mel,” I added, “that after your, mmm –”
“Betrayal,” Genghis suggested.
“Bombshell,” Dave offered.
“Bombshell and betrayal,” I continued, “relationships are bound to need a little renegotiation.”
“Mother-fucking –” Popeye started up again. But this time Dave and DJ laid hands on his shoulders to signal ‘enough.’ Popeye simmered down to glower.
“Thank you,” I said. “Did you have an agenda prepared? Mel?” I prompted again.
“I’m not,” Mel spluttered, “I mean –”
“Dee, why don’t you lead the meeting,” Carlos invited.
Nods around the room in Totoket, and video avatars at the side of the screen, were unanimous against Mel. Belatedly he acquiesced with his own sullen nod.
“OK, I’d like to begin with a recap,” I said. “Last night, Mangal was trusted as anchor for the first time. He narrated live, no censor delay. He abused our trust, broke the law, and went to jail.”
“How could you say that, Dee?” It was Will’s turn to explode, from my UNC side instead of the Amen1 side. “Mangal was your friend! He –”
“Thank you, Will,” I cut him off. “I know who Mangal is. I’m pretty sure I know why he said it. And I happen to agree with him – it’s high time we had more truth on climate change progress. But he broke our deal, Will. It was no accident. He did that on purpose. Dave, did Mangal warn you? Carlos?”
Both shook their heads in disgust.
“Mangal didn’t talk to me, either,” I emphasized. “And obviously he didn’t talk to Mel.” I paused to let that sink in. “Mangal betrayed us, and thus forced Mel’s hand. Who, it turns out, was betraying us all along. That a fair summary?”
Most shook their heads in disgust. I took that for agreement.
“Cool,” I said. “So, I’d like to set some ground rules for this discussion. The Hudson Resco Service – that includes DJ, Carlos, and me – requires that Amenac and PR News continue to provide its media services for the good of the nation. Amenac’s mission is unchanged. We promote public and private discourse, particularly in support of agriculture, commerce, and civic coordination. In time of crisis – like now – the civic coordination role is crucial. The volunteer website, missing persons database, etcetera.
“PR News is our pro-government news outlet,” I continued. The Amen1 half of our happy family variously rolled their eyes and hissed. Except Mel, our HomeSec quisling, who pursed his lips and nodded for the first time, instead of blowing a raspberry. Will and I were fine with the PR News mission. Compared to UNC’s old editorial bias, PR News was firmly on the side of the angels. Possibly including the death angels, but Will didn’t need to know that.
“To that end,” I concluded, “we lost up to two people yesterday from our top staff, Mangal, and Mel. So Mel. I understand that we’ll never let Mangal have a live feed again. That’s cool. We never did before, and he flunked the audition. With that caveat, when can we have Mangal back on the job?”
Mel blinked. “But, but he –”
“Granted. We already established that, Mel,” I stressed. “I want him back. And while we’re on the subject of staffing, I believe we need someone doing your job, too. Like, you. Or, Popeye? Do you have anyone better to do Mel’s job?”
Dave again stepped in to helpfully paraphrase Popeye’s obscenities. “No. We don’t have anyone who can replace Mel.”
“Mel?” I asked. He blinked and frowned at me, puzzled. “Are you able to continue to do your job with Amenac–PR News? Openly as a a HomeSec observer now, of course. Preferably without another undercover mole. That’s just rude. It’s not like we’re unsupervised.”
I grumbled that last. I felt Amenac was observed half to death between Mel, the Rescos Carlos and DJ, Leland observing on behalf of Canada, and whatever the hell Genghis was. And of course I was personally overseen by Emmett, Colonel Pete Hoffman, and the whole Hudson Resco Raj. “Thoroughly supervised,” I reiterated sourly.
Mel looked mulish. “Mangal is undergoing interrogation now. He cannot be trusted. And we need to investigate which subversive organizations he may be coordinating with.”
“That’s pointless,” I opined. “He has all the powerful contacts he needs right here. And he can reach more through me.”
Dave agreed. “We’re better connected and more subversive than anyone else Mangal could find. Why bother to shop around? Oh wait – he already did. And found us. And we built a media empire together. You were there, Mel. Through it all.” Dave sounded just as sour as I was.
“Homeland Security will confirm that,” Mel insisted.
I narrowed my eyes. “And how long with this interrogation last?” I demanded. “I trust that it will be non-physical and non-intrusive? No pharmaceuticals.” I held Mel’s eye sternly.
Mel fidgeted and looked away. “We won’t torture him,” he muttered.
“No pharmaceuticals,” I reiterated.
Carlos interjected, “What kind of pharmaceuticals have been administered
, Mel?”
“I’m not in charge of the interrogation!” Mel objected.
“We can wait, while you inquire,” Carlos insisted.
“You can’t –” Mel began, but thought better of it. I suspect he was about to claim that Carlos couldn’t order him around. Which wasn’t true. As lead Resco of Connecticut, Carlos could make Mel’s life a living hell, if he wanted to. Mel excused himself to go make the call.
Once Mel was out of the room, Dave said, “Dee? Are you really proposing to keep Mel on the team?”
“As an engineer,” I replied. “And to tell HomeSec what they need to know. Apparently that’s worked so far, to keep them off our backs. What Mel’s done today is just a temporary takeover. I’m trying to demote him back to useful. We can’t let him run Amenac–PR.”
“I’ve already discussed this with Dee, Dave,” Carlos put in. “Nobody ever thought Mel was the right leadership here. He’s still Mel.”
Dave pursed his lips and contemplated Popeye, whose imprecations were rising as an ongoing obscene mutter.
Will erupted, “What if Mangal really can’t be trusted, Dee?”
“As a programming manager?” I asked skeptically. “I’ve never seen any reason to doubt him, and I’ve worked with him a dozen years now. He’s good at it.”
“But I could take over for him,” Will offered.
I stared him down for a few moments. “Will, no one appreciates you more than I do. As a graphics designer. We’re lucky to have you. And it’s great that you know a little code. But the fact that you don’t even know, how much of the technology stack you don’t know? That’s a problem. You can’t do what Mangal and I do. We love you just the way you are,” I assured him. “But you can’t architect solutions. You can’t supervise coders, and run QA. You really don’t know what Mangal and I do.”
Popeye snorted most unflatteringly, and flipped Will the bird. Will returned the gesture and sat back grumpily, only slightly mollified by my petting.
Genghis said, “Dave’s point is well taken about Mel. Guaranteeing his physical survival may be more hassle than it’s worth.”
DJ’s posture suddenly lost its nonchalance. He sat up and leaned forward intently.
Carlos spoke first. “Was that threat, concern, or proposal, Genghis? I couldn’t quite tell.”
“I’m not a fucking murderer!” Popeye objected.
“One punch was fair enough,” DJ asserted. “It ends there. If we have any doubt that it ends there, then Amenac needs to replace Mel immediately. Further physical threats are not acceptable.”
“Further physical threats from Mel are not acceptable to us,” Genghis returned. “He pulled a gun and threatened Mangal’s wife and toddlers. Aside from betraying us.”
I sighed. “Maybe we should start recruiting for a replacement. But we need Mel in the meantime. We’re in the middle of a national crisis, Genghis, and comms are screwed all up and down the eastern seaboard. We need him now.”
Mel quietly slipped back into the room. I had no doubt he was eavesdropping on this exchange. I would have.
“Dave,” I said, “I don’t think anyone on the content side is any threat to Mel. Granted, we probably have moles there, too. But what do you think about Mel’s physical safety?”
“He brought a lot of backup,” Dave pointed out. “He’s the spy. He seemed to think he needed armed goons behind him.”
“‘He’ is standing right here,” Mel growled. “Retribution would be quick and thorough. And not one bit painless.”
Popeye started to rise. DJ and Dave pressed him back down into his seat.
“Right,” I concluded. “Let’s get back to Mangal. Mel?”
“There were…some pharmaceuticals,” Mel allowed, gaze averted. “That’s been discontinued now. There is a lack of contrition. That is causing concern.”
Dave said, “There was a chilling level of clinical detachment, lacking subjects and objects, in that report, Mel.”
I felt the same way. “When will Mangal be released?” I demanded. Mel continued to look squirrelly. “I would like to point out,” I added, “Mangal is not a useful hostage for your safety, Mel. Mangal’s friends aren’t a threat to you, so far as I know.” Just Popeye’s friends.
Mel frowned and looked considerably less sure of himself. Perhaps he hadn’t thought of that. “Mangal should probably stay at least one more night with HomeSec. For medical observation.”
I narrowed my eyes. My assurances to him weren’t quite true. If he and his goons had really hurt Mangal, there was someone who might pose a significant threat of vengeance on Mel. Me.
“What medical attention?” I hissed. “What have you done to him, you spineless son of a bitch? Mangal’s a pacifist with a conscience, for God’s sake! So your idiots thought they needed to torture him?”
Mel held palms out to the camera in denial. “He was only slapped around a little. A few bruises. Some interrogation chemicals.”
“Require overnight medical observation?” I screeched. “Mel, I hereby withdraw my support. Get the fuck out of Amenac, and never come back!”
“My meeting,” Dave cut in firmly, assuming control from me before Mel could respond. “I suggest we adjourn until Mangal is delivered, safe and well, and recovered from all drugs and antagonists. DJ, could you expedite that extraction? And find a doctor-not-HomeSec to assure Mangal’s speedy recovery?”
“Hey! It is up to me whether Mangal is released!” Mel insisted.
“DJ. Do it,” Carlos instructed. “Mel, sit down and shut up before I tell Popeye to do it for you.”
“You said you’d back me up,” Mel whined to me, slowly sinking into his seat.
“I did back you up, fool,” I told him, shaking my head. “You were just too stupid to see it.”
“We are adjourned,” Dave concluded. He took another look around the room, apparently decided he didn’t choose to care, and left. DJ called Vito and his goons back to keep Mel company. Will turned off the camera and terminated the video feed from Totoket Amenac HQ.
Yeah. That went well.
I was about to sign off, too, when Carlos said, “Dee? We still need to broadcast an announcement tonight. Sean wants the six o’clock slot, to go public on the nuclear plants.”
Genghis and Leland, arrested like me in mid-sign-off, froze in attention. “What about the nuclear plants?” Leland asked.
I screwed up, I wailed to myself. Oh, I really, really screwed this up…
“After the broadcast, call me, Leland,” Carlos replied. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But for right now, I’ve got to put together a public address. Dee? Could you please take five? Calm down and come back?”
“Carlos, I am so sorry…” I breathed in horror.
“Don’t need an apology, Dee,” Carlos told me. “We spoke of this last night. I need you to take five and calm down. Go now.”
I switched the video conference to stand-by, cutting my video in both directions. My goal at this meeting was to put Humpty-Dumpty back together again, restore Amenac–PR News to the crucial tool it needed to be, to support the Northeast in digging out of this crisis. To save Mangal, and save Mel enough face, to let them both return to work. Oh, God, I screwed up…
I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed utter disgust with myself for having lost my cool during the meeting, with Mangal’s safety on the line, with Amenac–PR on the line, with how badly Hudson needed our news outlets right now.
And I botched it. Instead of bringing the team back together, I’d just waded into the bickering like an idiot. I hadn’t screamed like that since…
I screamed again, remembering. I’d screamed like this the day Emmett and I got together, the day our little girl Angel vanished without a trace. I’d screamed and gone berserk in my kitchen, shattering glasses and plates onto the floor. Emmett grabbed my barefoot self and carried me out to the living room. We finally gave in to our attraction and made love that night. Now, I collapsed onto the bedroom floor alone,
huddled into my knees and sobbing.
Gladys knocked softly, then padded in to sit beside me, also hugging her knees. Occasionally she reached out and patted my back, but otherwise just let me cry.
When I snuffled to a stop, she handed me a handkerchief, rose, and quietly slipped away.
Come back safe, Emmett, I pleaded.
I got up and wandered over to my wedding dress storage bin. I pulled out the pin-bedecked bodice and looked it over. Truth to tell, I kind of liked the marching lines of pins as detail on the princess seams. The bodice, without them, would look…banal generic wedding dress, in a lousy grade of hemp fabric. I peered at a problem area closer, one I’d already reworked twice. Yup, oils from my fingers were oxidizing there, into a stain. Hell. I balled the fabric up in a wad, and thrust it back in its bin to continue browning.
The dress is not my marriage, I schooled myself. Emmett is.
I splashed my face in the bathroom, pulled myself together, and logged back into the video conference in progress.
A deal was struck. The nightly news would go on. Dave called the shots in Totoket for now, with Carlos and I holding veto power. I would direct client-side operations and software, taking over Mangal’s job. The future roles of Mel and Mangal in Amenac–PR would have to wait.
12
Interesting fact: Nuclear power plants are not created equal. Seabrook, New Hampshire used a Westinghouse Four-Loop, as did Salem in Jersey and Indian Point on the Hudson. Surry Virginia had a Westinghouse Three-Loop, like the Turkey Point plants near Miami. The Millstone plant in Connecticut was built by Combustion Engineering, as was the St. Lucie plant in Florida, and Calvert Cliffs at the top of Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. All of these were pressurized water reactors. In contrast, Toms River in Jersey used a General Electric boiling water reactor, as did Brunswick North Carolina and Fukushima Japan. Canadian nuclear plants were of their own heavy-water CANDU reactor design. Expertise in these installations was rare and not entirely transferable.