by Ted Mayes
He was, at first, so set in his ways that she wondered how long he’d actually been married to Tommy’s sister. (And she was not going to ask anyone about that.) On the other hand, he was always so adorably surprised at her suggestions and he made a real effort to go along with all the new things she was suggesting. Although she was definitely not a marriage expert, she was happily surprised at how well their lives were fitting together.
She definitely knew she enjoyed sharing a bed with Michael. Outside of the more obvious and exciting reasons, she’d found great – contentment was the right word, she guessed – in seeing his face the last thing at night and the first thing in the morning. In fact, when the emperor sent Michael to Capitol for meetings and an overnight stay, she’d gotten so used to his presence that she slept badly the night that he was gone.
Another thing she’d discovered was a growing desire for a baby – Michael's baby. She remembered vague memories of really wanting a particular doll when she was little, and she remembered how much she had enjoyed that doll. Now she felt this desire to have a baby of her own, a baby of Michael's, and that desire was growing stronger every week, if not every day. She was pretty sure that Michael wanted children, but she needed to sit down with him and really talk about how many and when.
The three-month anniversary of the Imperial Press was almost as encouraging. Conditions had settled down with bureau chiefs appointed for each of the Imperial regional offices and a regular ‘contributor’ for Mars. Henry was doing a terrific job of being editor-in-chief and stories were starting to pour in. Amanda had recruited a computer expert who had devised a system to access the various stories, indexed for locality and story content. She and Henry were reviewing how to tie that system into the new Web and yet provide access only to those who paid the IP for the privilege.
In fact, today she had a meeting with Henry, who was coming down from Capitol for a family reunion. She met him at the fleet harbor at 1000 when the Poland docked. Kissing him on the cheek, she tucked her arm in his as they walked out onto the Via Emporia. “How are you, Henry?”
“Busy, but feeling fine.” He looked up at the sunny sky. “I think I’m going to have to write a story about ‘vacationing’ on Earth. Capitol is a spacious place, especially compared to some of the other colonies up there, but there’s something about standing out in the open – without a vacuum suit – that just seems right.”
“I’ll look forward to reading that. How is that stringer at Kepler working out? As far as I can tell, she seems to capture the spirit and feel of the place.”
“She seems to be working out fine. When Kepler gets bigger, we’ll have to consider making her a full member of the Imperial Press. Do you mind sitting out here in the sunshine to have our talk?” At a shake of her head, they stopped at a nearby bench and sat down. “By the way, did you have a chance to look at those suggestions I sent you?”
She nodded. “No problem about the ‘ranks’ in the IP – associate reporter, assistant reporter, reporter, bureau chief, editor sounds good to me. Having a number of awards or honors, sounds great to me, but I think the honors should be named after people who were simply reporters, not big shots – an Ernie Pyle award, a Nellie Bly award, but no Joseph Pulitzer. Does that make sense?”
Henry looked at her for a moment. “It does to me, but ...” He paused for another moment. “Well, I guess I need to tell you that some of the people we’ve hired would be puzzled by your attitude.”
Her look of confusion led him to continue. “I met you here first when you were still a slave, the lowest of the low. Others who have joined up in the last few months have met someone else – the wife of the highest Imperial official, the chief financial officer of the IP and our ‘connection’ to the empire. Since we’ve been hiring reporters, it shouldn’t be a surprise that they’ve been able to discover that your family is, shall we say ‘big’, in journalism, and that you’re an heiress. Our fellow associate reporters in the IP seem to have decided that you are the publisher, or at least their employer.”
Amanda blew out an exasperated breath. “I was wondering if something like that was going to come up. Sure, I put up some money to get the IP started,...”
“And only you put money up?” Henry interrupted.
She was still for a moment. “No, there have been other gifts, anonymous and no strings attached, that have been made for the startup. As I was going to say, I contributed money and no experience to the IP – you contributed no money but lots of experience. That’s why you’re editor-in-chief, and in charge of this thing. Is this going to grow into a bigger problem?”
Henry stared at the ground. “I’m not sure. The only things I can think of to try and correct this would, I think, only intensify the belief that you’re the publisher/owner.”
She thought for a few moments. “Henry, did we ever decide how the IP was to be governed? I know that you and I signed the letter of agreement with the emperor, but I never thought the two of us would make all the decisions.”
“Well, I guess I was thinking of including the bureau chiefs in running things. Counting you and me, that would give us a ‘board’ of twelve to make decisions.”
“How does this sound? You set up a time when all the bureaus chiefs are in the office and have access to the office clerks and we can have a general conference with all of them at the same time. If they’re going to be on the board, we can have them sign the letter of agreement with the emperor also. I’ll give a report on finances, and you can demonstrate that you are the one in charge.”
“That has some possibilities – at least it will get discussion going on where we’re headed next. One issue to talk about is how big the IP is going to get – do we need IP members or stringers in other countries than the ones our bureau chiefs and regional centers are? Another is how much news are we going to cover – we’ve already had requests to cover some sports news – how much of that do we want to get into? Another question would be do we want to publicize official government statements? There’s quite a few issues to discuss.”
Henry paused for a moment before going on. “I think, considering what some of the bureau chiefs think, that I’m going to forbid you to write on Imperial politics.”
Amanda gently shuddered. “Definitely not a problem. Although I’m not sure what you mean by Imperial politics, I don’t want to have anything to do with it. My months as a slave brought me more than close enough to ‘politics’ to realize I don’t want anything to do with that topic. I’ll be happy to write about the arts, fashion and human interest stories.”
Henry looked at her carefully. “Are you sure about that? You are, after all, the wife of the highest Imperial official.”
“Or, you could say that I’m the wife of a man who’s looking forward to retiring in six months and doing nothing more strenuous than doing some bartending.”
“Seriously? I mean I’ve heard things like that before, but it seems that you can’t get rid of Earth politicians no matter how old they are.”
Amanda shook her head. “Based on my time at the residence, what I know of Marine basic training, and the one university class I took, I’m somewhat surprised that Michael has survived this long. Once the emperor is done with him in December, I’m going to make sure that he takes better care of himself.”
Henry glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’ve got to get moving if I’m going to catch a plane this morning. I’ll let you and everyone else know when our conference call is going to be. And I’m going to warn you in advance that I will act like the editor-in-chief. That seems to be the only way to make it clear that you’re not the publisher.”
“Fine with me, Henry.”
“Oh, one other thing. There are rumors up at Capitol of some big construction, or excavation, project. Let me know if you get any information on that.”
“Sure thing.” She hugged him. “Have a safe trip.” She watched him walk away, thinking how relieved she was to be ‘forbidden’ to write about politics. Havin
g a ‘connection’ to the empress and carrying that dratted silver card was, in a sense, much more ‘political’ than she wanted to be – she certainly didn’t want to write stories about ‘politics,’ especially when it would involve people she knew and liked.
She strolled down the Via Emporia, just enjoying the morning. While she walked she thought about the stories that she needed to finish up and get into the system. There was that Imperial Symphony concert that she and Michael had attended last night – that needed at least a small notice about the program and soloist. There were upcoming concerts to be covered. Then a new theater company had been formed, supposedly by ‘underused’ (whatever that meant) Broadway actors, and the company planned on bringing Broadway-quality theater productions to Ostia and Capitol.
She was almost to the crossroads when she recognized an unexpected face. She had spotted Jorge Ramirez, her ‘replacement’ as government ‘information officer,’ but she was pleasantly surprised to see him on patrol duty, in dress uniform. They exchanged greetings and she had the chance to catch up with the events of his life.
His experience had been similar to hers. He had served as the informal ‘press secretary’ for the empire for eight months and had, apparently, handled things well. He’d been freed and returned to his Latin status and was starting his ‘career’ over again. He was also very thankful to Amanda for selecting him as a replacement and giving him that opportunity. After a very brief time of thinking, she asked to talk with him when he was off duty. The purpose? To use him, suitably incognito, as a human interest story on how imperial justice and redemption worked. He said he’d be willing, as long as the details were kept out of the story, and they made arrangements to talk later.
As she continued down the street, she realized that she’d have to argue against publishing or publicizing government information, including imperial announcements. Not only would it give governments everywhere more access to the IP than they really should have, but it would eliminate chances for people like Jorge or herself to correct mistakes they had made.
She stopped off at Jordan's, got a cup of her favorite coffee and sat down at a quiet table in a corner of the room. She opened her bag and pulled out a pad of paper. It was curious, she had decided, that even though she was used to using Samantha, it still felt ‘right’ to write out her stories longhand. She had mentioned that once, back in January, to the cook, and she’d been informed that she’d been so thrilled, as a little girl, to be complimented on her handwriting, that she’d always tended to write things out longhand, first – even if the final copy had to be printed.
Mr. Jordan, Beth’s Dad, came over during a lull in customers and they chatted briefly about Beth and the upcoming wedding. He’d finished speaking and was beginning to move back to the coffee bar when an idea popped into her head. “As a father, Mr. Jordan,” she asked quickly, “what do fathers think about the man their daughter selects?”
He grinned. “I like Jon and he’s a good kid – but he’s not good enough for my little girl.”
“Even if, since the emperor is unknown, he might be part of the Imperial family?” she joked. She noticed a brief expression of what she could only describe as panic crossed his face and then disappeared.
The smile that was on his face was a trifle sad. “He could be the new emperor himself and he still wouldn’t be good enough for my Beth. But, he’s the man that she wants, and she’s happy, so whatever opinion a father might have doesn’t matter.”
Amanda looked at him very thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, “Mr. Jordan, would you and your wife be willing to sit down for an interview with me?”
21 – June 1994
There was a soft knock on the door, which opened enough for a head to enter the room. “You wanted to see me, love?”
He looked up from the document he was glancing at. “Sure, come on in, sweetheart.”
“The kids are off to school.”
“I know. As soon as they’re out of the door, Augustus starts putting up displays.” He waved at the six different scenes that were being shown on a nearby wall.
She shook her head. “I love you dearly, husband, but I still have no idea how you do some of these things. Watch a number of different screens and read at the same time? You’re not concentrating on that,” she pointed at the paper he was holding, “are you?”
“No, just skimming it. Still following your rule, dear.”
She walked up to him. “You’d better – no sense in clogging up that photographic memory of yours with any more unimportant images. Now, I was just listening to Augusta’s summary, so what did you want – I’m just cleaning up the kitchen after the breakfast mess the kids left.”
He grabbed her and pulled her down onto his lap. “You can take a moment, then,” he said. “A report, or suggestion, has come in from Praetor Nakhlos at Capitol, and I wanted to get your first reaction to it. Augustus, give me an overhead view of Copernicus crater on the Moon.”
A new display popped into existence and he went on. “There are three peaks in the center of the crater. The eastern peak is the biggest and that’s where we decided to put Capitol. The one in the center is the smallest and that’s where I decided that we’d put the memory banks for the Imperial Library. It may be the smallest peak, but it should provide enough room for several dozen generations of data storage.”
“Now the western peak isn’t as big as the eastern, but it’s not that far behind in size. And we had no idea of what to do with it. Well, it seems that someone in the Urban Praetor’s office was reading an old science fiction story about a colony on the moon that had an interesting feature. The heroine was a misunderstood teenager who found her home ‘flying’ in a sealed cavern – human-powered flying with artificial wings. The individual, a John Hogan, I believe, thought what a great tourist attraction that would be and from there jumped to the idea of having a whole recreational area under the western peak – a sort of combination Coney Island-Branson-Disneyworld.” He waited for her to speak, looking into her face.
She thought for a moment. “It sounds good to me, and it would probably be a huge draw, both in terms of tourists and jobs. I think that flying thing would be a big draw, too, if we can make it safe.”
“There was also a request for a definitive answer to another question. There have been quite a number of requests for us to allow casinos up at Capitol, and a suggestion has been made that this would be a good place to put them, if we were going to allow casinos at all.”
She sat upright. “Casinos? You’ll destroy our people!” she replied immediately. “You were the one who pointed out that casinos inevitably introduce gambling addictions, pawn stores and any number of other things we didn’t want to introduce at Capitol, and always edge out other stores and businesses!”
“Calm down, wife. I wasn’t inclined that way, either, but the suggestion was made that this was one way to ‘control’ gambling.”
“It’s even easier to control if there are no opportunities for it. If someone wants to gamble, there are all sorts of ways to do it ‘outside.’ Tourists can just go somewhere else if they want that.”
He kissed her softly. “Thanks for your input, but you really have to stop being so shy,” he teased. “If you have an opinion, you need to let me know how you feel.”
“Oh, you ...”she began, but what she was going to say was cut short when he drew her close for a longer and more thorough kiss. After a few moments of sitting close together, she pulled away and looked closely at him. “A quick question…?”
He smiled at her. “You, my dear, have the right to ask any question you want and to receive an answer, as well.”
“The empire has been ‘public’ for almost a year now. With the children getting older, I worry about what will happen to them in the future. I know that we have the edge in technology, but are ‘outside’ scientists going to catch up and make trouble for the kids?”
He sighed. “It’s a complicated question. The short answer is ‘I
don’t think so, at least not any time soon.’” He rubbed his chin and a surprised look appeared on his face. “Hey, I got so busy this morning that I forgot to shave – remind me to do that when we’re done here.”
She nodded. “If I don’t, Augustus will remind you. Now, how about a little more than the short version, but you don’t have to mention all that technical stuff.”
“Okay. Well, first of all, the discoveries imperial tech is based on was a ‘gift.’ It may be imitated or copied in the future, but I don’t think such an event is going to be repeated and I doubt imitation is going to happen soon. Second they don’t have the tools to look in the ‘right places’ - if you remember the story of the discovery of X-rays, how could they have discovered X-rays if they had no indication something was causing the fogging of a photographic plate? How can outsiders discover something that they don’t even realize exists?”
“Related to that is the fact that outside science is looking in the wrong place right now. Einstein’s theories still rule in theoretical physics outside.”
“Which theories you blew away,” she remarked with more than a little pride.
He shrugged. “But they don’t know that, yet. Just as an example, we do a lot with gravity, which our scientists have decided is ‘second order’ physics. Right now, gravity, as most experience it, is considered the ‘weakest’ of the natural forces, yet there’s so ‘much’ gravity that can be seen in action, outside scientists are busy ‘proving’ that somewhere around 95% of existing matter is invisible ‘dark matter’ that they can’t find. If they spent some time questioning their presuppositions, we’d have more to worry about.”
“One scientist is even arguing that a black hole, which by definition has such strong gravity that even light can’t escape, somehow manages to shoot out a much weaker gravitational wave, which, moving out from the source, is somehow magically able to draw things closer to the black hole. As it is, the Museum estimates that it will be at least a generation before outsiders begin looking in the right direction.”