Curds and Whey Box Set

by G M Eppers

  “I’m happy for you,” I said, though I don’t think she heard me and I wasn’t really.

  Badger plopped into his chair with a “phew,” sliding his phone into his shirt pocket. “No outgoing calls to any place that deals in dancing girls, magicians, mariachi bands, or clowns,” he reported. “Just one missed incoming call from the Washington Post about a subscription renewal.” I didn’t remember ever seeing the Post in our mail and said so. “I don’t have a subscription,” he admitted. “I wrote a letter to the editor four years ago and now I’m on their renewal list. Go figure.”

  They all found their original coffee cups, tossed the cold coffee and poured fresh out of the pot. Sir Haughty began preparing some eggs, and offered to play fry cook but there were no takers. Breakfast, even at the usual time, was not common at our HQ. An hour before lunch time, even less so.

  Billings brought out his phone and plugged in a flash drive. “You guys need to hear this.”

  What followed was a recording of his meeting with Butte at Starbucks. I hadn’t suggested he record anything, but it was just like Billings to be prepared. There were the usual pleasantries and we heard them place their orders for simple sandwiches and complex coffees with Billings specifying very clearly that his should be made with soy milk. He had learned long ago to make sure the special request was heard. Then Butte got down to business. “Billings, you’ll be 21 soon, old enough to make your own decisions.”

  “I’ve been making my own decisions for years, Dad.” Sounds of a bustling Starbucks were in the background, people making orders and clerks calling out numbers, the swoosh of people moving past people, snippets of inane conversation from passersby. It seems someone had borrowed a car and returned it with a nearly empty gas tank and now the friendship was hanging by a thread.

  “You might think you have, but I want you to consider that you might just be following your mother out of habit.” I glowered at Billings’ phone.

  “Just listen, Mom,” said Billings. On the phone, his voice said, “Some habits are good.”

  “Even good habits should be reevaluated now and then.”

  “What are you saying?”

  There was a pause. We heard sipping, but we couldn’t tell who was doing it. “Things have changed at WHEY, son,” said Butte. “They’ve changed a great deal.”

  “Still supporting poison, though, right?”

  “It’s not poison! Have you people at CURDS been following the latest scientific research? Or do you just blunder blindly on with the same assumptions people made a decade ago? Listen, we know more about Uber now than we ever have before. Sure, it’s addictive. So are cigarettes and chocolate and caffeine, and a hundred other compounds that people use safely every day. Remember when they legalized marijuana? A lot of people thought that was dangerous, too. Decriminalizing it was going to lead to complete anarchy, and potheads all over the country were going to create mass hysteria and the biggest crime wave since the 1920’s. None of that happened.”

  “Uber kills people, Dad. It’s not the same as any of those things. It doesn’t even take decades to do it, like cigarettes. It kills in months, usually even weeks.” There was a brief pause. “Stop shaking your head. You know I’m right.”

  “I’ve had Uber.” This time Butte paused. A chair scraped. “Sit down. I’m not addicted.”

  “I wish you were.” Heard that one coming. It wasn’t called for, but I couldn’t really blame him.

  “The answer is moderation, Billings. Plain and simple. Maybe some regulation. I’m not against that. But it’s REALLY good cheese. We just have to educate people in how to use it safely. That’s what WHEY wants to do. And I’d love it if you would come and work with me to do it, too. We can do so much now. We can really make a difference.”

  “You mean, now that you have dark money coming in.”

  “Dark money? What gave you that idea? It’s Krochedy Brothers. There’s nothing dark about it. It’s fully disclosed. All above board. And it’s better than depending on Uncle Sam to buy your meal ticket.”

  “You mean some of it is above board. That doesn’t mean that’s all there is. Look, I don’t want to get into a debate in world finance. That’s not the point. Uber is too volatile. No amount of regulation is going to keep it under control.”

  “You don’t believe me that I’ve eaten it. You think I’m lying.” A long pause. Someone in the restaurant dropped a metal utensil on the tiled floor. “Just have your team look it up. I know they can. Johns Hopkins studies that show small amounts of Uber are harmless. CURDS is on the wrong side here, Billings.”

  Badger pulled out his phone and started thumbing the screen rapidly, reading while he continued to listen to the recording. He would be ready with his reports report by the time we finished.

  On the recording, Billings said, “Even if Uber were found to be as harmless as water, Dad, it doesn’t justify what WHEY has been doing for the last ten years. And it doesn’t justify the way you treated Mom and me when Grandpa died. She told me, Dad. She told me about how you gave Dad the cheese that killed him. And I remember –“ Billings’ voice caught in his throat and he cleared it. “Grandpa took me to dinner when I turned ten, not long before –he was a wonderful, caring, thoughtful man. Grandpa trusted you. He trusted you to take care of his daughter and instead you stabbed her in the back and laughed about it.”

  “Laughed? I did not.”

  “Yes. You did. I heard you at the funeral.” My stomach clenched. I’d been too wrapped up in my own emotional pain at the funeral to even notice whether or not Butte had come. He certainly had not come with me and Billings. “Sorry, Mom,” he whispered to me now as his disembodied voice continued, “You were talking to some friend of yours, during the viewing and stuff. You said you didn’t know what all the fuss was about. That he died the way he lived, stuffed full of –“

  “Billings!” I shouted, drowning out the recording for a second. “He didn’t!”

  “He did.”

  “—laughed,” the recording continued. “You patted each other on the back like you’d just won the Super Bowl. I went into the bathroom and threw up and you didn’t even notice I was there.” That’s when there was a splash and a sputter, slightly repulsive so soon after the mention of throwing up. The ambient noise of the Starbucks fell away. Then the recording was just street sounds. Billings turned it off.

  “Please tell me the misto was still hot,” I said, stunned by the exchange.

  “I think so, but not scalding. I wish.” I had always admonished Billings for such talk. Not this time. I didn’t admonish myself, either. I quietly indulged in some very serious vengeful thoughts.

  Everyone was stunned. I blinked to clear my head. “Badger, did you find anything about those studies he mentioned?”

  He was grinning wryly. “Yes, and you can relax. They are as bogus as an earthworm in MENSA. I forwarded the link to you, Nitro. You can check the methodology, but the study is by John S. Hopkins, not the Johns Hopkins hospital and medical school, and the study was funded mostly by Krochedy Brothers Department Stores. Number two was Folks For Family Values, a non-profit owned by the Krochedy Brothers. And no, I don’t understand how a non-profit can afford to donate three million dollars.” Roxy knew. But it was high finance and on the edge of legality and would take too long to fully explain. “The reports were widely published, but not in any known medical journals in any country I could find. It appears to have been broken by The Sun in its World Weekly News insert, then got picked up by The Daily Report, The Globe, and The National Examiner. The Onion Online did a parody in which Uber cured cancer as well.”

  Billings seemed to give a sigh of relief. No doubt, until that moment, there had been uncertainty about Butte’s claim. He was glad to push the uncertainty into disbelief rather than affirmation. “Nitro, do you think he was telling the truth about having eaten it?”

  “It’s possible, I suppose. More likely, he was led to believe he was eating Uber. I’ve seen nothing in the
medical journals that would agree with Butte. The addictive effect is immediate and strong and intervention requires physical separation from Uber for at least two full weeks, even with people who had shown no previous addictive tendencies. Survivors have said it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever done, and some of them served in Iraq. I’m afraid Butte is actually a victim here. He’s being manipulated, perhaps has been manipulated for several years now.”

  But Billings still seemed very worried. “What is it, Billings?” I asked. “He was lying. That’s pretty much expected and established.”

  “But if he’s brainwashed, it’s not really his fault. Mom, what if all along he’s just been trying to rationalize his part in Grandpa’s death? What if it’s like a cult or something and he’s trapped?” Billings was clearly zapped into conflict again. This time, instead of trying to control his hatred of his father he was being asked to change his hatred into pity. For me, it was kind of pity all along. Butte had fallen for a bill of goods. I had never questioned the lack of veracity of the bill of goods. I knew the truth about Uber only too well. Apparently it was never that clear cut for Billings. “And then there’s the funding. That’s what really scares me, Mom. With the Krochedy Brothers behind them, they can buy anything they want, including politicians, regulators, even judges. There’s no telling how far they will go. They could push through legislation decriminalizing Uber. If they bother with regulations, they would most likely be ignored like the inspection records for oil pipelines and drilling wells. An Uber outbreak in the United States is an apocalypse waiting to happen. We can’t –“

  “We’ll stop them, Billings,” I said, interrupting him before his emotions could get any further out of control.

  “How? We have good funding, but nothing like that. I feel like it’s the beginning of the end.”

  I took his hand in both of mine, not knowing what to say to make him feel better. Rather than inspiring him, I was absorbing his arguments and losing hope, too. It was a nearly impossible climb to overcome the Mount Everest of Krochedy Brothers money. “All we can do is keep fighting, Billings. We keep fighting Uber no matter what. For Grandpa.” Billings pressed his lips together and nodded.

  We all jumped when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the read out. “It’s Miss Chiff,” I said. “Yes, Miss Chiff. We’re all here.” I put it on speaker.

  “Good. I’m on my way. Turn on the television and watch the news.” That was all she said. The connection ended.

  After trading looks with each other, we adjourned to the living room, where Sylvia grabbed the remote and turned on the television. “That’s Bullwinkle,” said Roxy, taking a seat on one of the three couches.

  Badger took the remote from Sylvia and changed it to a news channel. “Oh my God.”

  CNN was running the busy screen, with a scroll across the bottom, a split screen between the anchor and the field reporter, and a sidebar tossing headlines in the corner. Behind the field reporter was a large building quickly going up in flames. Firemen in heavy gear were tramping around squirting a hose and using axes to break up charred beams. Orders and acknowledgements were being shouted in a foreign language. “Where is that?” I asked, as Badger turned up the sound even more.

  “—six confirmed dead,” said the reporter. “Chembassador Philips is in critical condition and on his way to Kutna Hora Hospital. He’s reported to have severe burns, at least three broken ribs, and a fractured skull. Investigators are still going through the wreckage to determine the cause, but they suspect a gas leak somewhere in the basement. It will likely be several hours before the evidence can be interpreted reliably. As you can see, the flames are quite high and intense. I can feel the heat, even here, like standing in front of an open oven. Repeating….an explosion rocked the Chembassy in the Czech Republic about an hour ago. There are six confirmed dead …” I checked my watch. The Czech Republic was six hours ahead, and with the explosion taking place only an hour ago that would put the local time between 5:30 and 6 P.M. Unless we broke the sound barrier, we’d be arriving in the wee hours of the morning. But when it came to a disaster such as this, there really was no clock. Those firefighters would be there until the job was done. As we watched, we heard parts of the building caving in, stirring up a new blaze that crackled like radio static.

  “I’ve met Chembassador Philips,” said Sir Haughty. “I do hope he pulls through.”

  “Everyone get your go bags ready,” I said, staring at the devastation. I think we’ll be leaving soon. Badger, how’s your Czech?”

  “Actually, English is the second language there since the Soviet Union broke up. We should only have a communication problem if we have to visit a retirement community. But I’ll bone up on the plane. Czech is not easy. I have an app for that,” he said, heading for the stairs. Leaving the TV on, we all went up to put together our go bags. I didn’t recall what the building looked like before, but I believed it was on a much grander scale than the Chembassy we’d recently seen in London. Kutna Hora was chosen for the Chembassy because of its central location in the Czech Republic, a bit over a hundred miles from the capital of Prague. The area was steeped in history with several huge beautiful cathedrals and ornate architecture. Traditionally, Chembassies were built using existing buildings whenever possible, so it made me sad to think that some exquisite piece of history had been demolished with so little regard, not to mention the six dead, and the Chembassador’s life hanging by a thread. Already I was proposing scenarios in my head. The likelihood of a gas leak seemed small to me, probably nothing more than PR meant to avert panic. And the destruction of the building seemed to indicate that the arsonist was not local. Almost certainly not a Kutna Hora resident and likely not a Czech at all. Unlike Americans, Europeans, in general, were raised with an appreciation of their local history and its present-day manifestations. Odds were high that this was the work of an outsider.

  Most of us were back in the living room, glued to the coverage, by the time Miss Chiff got there. She was not alone. I let her in, and she was followed by several men and women in overalls wearing tool belts and carrying black cases of equipment. They went immediately to the TV and turned it off, and pulled it away from the wall. “Miss Chiff, what is this?”

  “Helena, bring your team to the kitchen. I have a lot to discuss with you and we don’t have a lot of time. We have to get you in the air.”

  The twins, the last to come back downstairs, joined us in the kitchen. Miss Chiff and I sat, as did Roxy, but the rest were too wired to sit down. They stood around, their attention on the Director. She wasted no time. “This is the last time I’ll have to come here in person. The tech team is installing a new LED Television that will include a closed channel direct to my office. From now on, I’ll be communicating from there. We are ramping up as much as we can. We’ve gotten word that Congress is working on a bill to freeze our funding, perhaps even cut it.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “That’s partisanship,” she said, not naming any particular party, but we all knew.

  “That’s their response to the revelation that the Krochedy Brothers are funding WHEY?” asked Billings. “It makes no sense at all.”

  “It doesn’t have to.” Miss Chiff sounded as disgusted about this as we all felt. “It seems rather than feel threatened, many Congressmen now believe the WHEY propaganda that the danger of Uber has passed.” This would be similar to the situation with measles recently. Because inoculations had virtually eradicated the disease, many felt that continuing the immunizations was unnecessary. This led to a severe outbreak of measles among the younger, non-immunized population. Also, many failed to remember the severity of the illness because it was considered a childhood disease. Thus with Uber, a few studies sponsored by the right people could convince important legislators that OOPS was a thing of the past, not even considering that it could happen again. “So before it passes,” Miss Chiff continued, referring to the pending budget cuts, ”I’ve requisitioned a
major tech upgrade. Each HQ will get a new communications network. I’m hoping to do the planes as well, but we won’t be able to get to them before you leave. You saw the news?”

  “Yes,” I said, speaking for everyone. “Has anyone claimed responsibility?”

  Miss Chiff scanned the faces of my team. If there were cuts, would we lose someone? I couldn’t bear to think about it. “No,” she answered. “At least, none of the existing terrorist networks that we know about. Someone might be lying, or we might have a new player. The Czech Republic has an investigative team on the explosion, but I want to send you there, as well. I understand Sir Haughty has a relationship with Chembassador Philips?”

  “We’ve met,” he said simply.

  “Every little bit, as they say. You appear to be ready to go. Get yourselves to the plane right away. I’ll stay here until the upgrade is finished and lock up. If there’s any further information while you’re in transit, I’ll be in touch. Questions?”

  Normally, there were no questions. Miss Chiff was very good at covering all the bases, but she was very rushed right now.

  “Just to confirm,” Nitro said, “our physicals have all cleared?”

  “Yes, yes. No problem at all.”

  “The six dead,” he asked as a follow up. “Who were they?”

  Miss Chiff nodded her approval of the question, indicating it was a detail that she normally would have included. “They were all staff, no civilians. Their names are being withheld until the families are notified, but I understand it was two members of the cleaning staff, the chef, and three security guards. I believe one of the security guards lost her life rescuing the Chembassador. I will of course be submitting her name for posthumous decoration of the highest form.”

  Sylvia stepped around Nitro, as if she’d been standing in line waiting to ask a question. I half expected her to raise a hand and wait to be called on. “Have they determined where the fire began? Was it a gas leak?”