by Kelly deVos
But. But. But.
Navarro is giving me an I told you so stare.
“How is that your job? You’re supposed to help people!” I say.
Rosenthal ignores me.
Jinx stands. Her head swivels from the crushed plastic pieces in her hand to Rosenthal’s face and back again. “What about my brother?”
“Do what you’re told, and you’ll get your brother back,” Rosenthal tells her. He walks to his desk and presses the touch screen. He speaks into the air. “Brian, get these kids where they need to be.”
Brian, the man in the suit who we saw in the hall, bursts through the door. “Okay, kids, I can show you to your quarters.”
I blink over and over again. As if I can make myself see something different.
Brian is almost shoving Jinx, Terminus and Navarro out the door. “Are the three of you going to make me call the MPs?” He’s been in the office with us for maybe two minutes, and his suit is all rumpled and wrinkled.
I walk by myself. Slowly. With the ocean floor falling from under my feet.
I hesitate at the door, turning back to Rosenthal. “I really believed in you.”
All those hours at rallies. Making posters.
Can I get them back?
Rosenthal draws in a deep breath and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Miss Novak, suppose we fix the bank computers. What would happen?”
Um. Well. “Things would go back to the way they were before?”
He nods. He really is kinda handsome, for an old guy. “But do you think things were right the way that they were before? We live in a world where two percent of the population controls eighty percent of the resources. My job is to make sure that the future is better than the past. For as many people as possible. This financial crisis is an opportunity to fix some of that. In the short term, things have to get worse before they get better.”
Okay. But. “That’s easy for you to say while you’re comfortable in here and people are going without food out there.”
LEAD: David Rosenthal destroys bank data to overhaul economic system.
Jinx and Navarro continue to argue with Brian in the hall. Their voices are getting louder.
Rosenthal joins me at the door. “I’m giving a speech in an hour. Let’s see if I can convince you.” The instant I’m in the hall, he closes the door.
A speech? Where? And for who?
“I don’t know!” Brian is saying, tugging down his suit jacket. He’s a short, thin, balding man who was born to book appointments for more important people. “And you’ll see the general after dinner. There’s a full briefing scheduled.”
He herds us the same way we came. To the door that Rosenthal identified as the dormitories. “Orders are for you to remain here until dinner. You’ll be escorted to the dining hall at seven. Then you’ll receive information about your mission. If you’d like to listen to the president’s speech—”
“What mission?” Navarro asks, still trying to push his way past Brian.
Our shoes are squeaking on the tile floor.
“How is Rosenthal giving a speech from the bottom of the ocean?” Jinx yells.
I can’t help myself. “Who is it for? All the puffer fish and krill down here?”
Brian sighs dramatically. “He’s addressing the nation via a pirated signal. Turn your monitor to input four if you’d like to watch. It starts in an hour.” He leans on the door, shutting it with all his weight, before we can say anything else.
There’s a panel of lights mounted to the wall near the doorknob. One turns red.
We’re locked in.
I’m pretty sure my childhood hero just had me placed under house arrest.
I try to shake off the feeling that Navarro is right. That all politicians are the same. That all this was predictable.
I’ll think about that later. Right now. Focus.
The dormitory area is actually really nice. Like, if we weren’t in constant mortal peril, and if my knight in shining armor hadn’t fallen off his horse, I might be enjoying myself. We start off in a large common area full of the same type of furniture as in the break room. Recliners. A bright blue sofa with gem-colored pillows piled on it. It’s the perfect environment to curl up with a cup of cocoa and a book.
But.
No cocoa.
No books.
And Jinx. Repeating, “He destroyed the drive,” over and over.
Then there’s Navarro.
He’s able to resist saying I told you so. But I wonder if that’s only because he’s relieved to not have to answer any more questions about his own father. I’d almost rather have him argue with me. Because watching him pace around and open every closet and drawer like an assassin’s gonna pop out really gets on my nerves.
LEAD: Peter Navarro built that terrible thing we saw from the ship.
Fact check: Make that Dr. Navarro and Dr. Doomsday.
Bias check: I’d need a quote to establish that the cold fusion bomb was terrible.
Except that explosion was quite damn obviously terrible.
Terminus falls into one of the recliners and buries his head in his hands. “Oh, does anyone have any milk of magnesia?”
We ignore him.
Four bedrooms and a bathroom connect to the common room. We each claim a room and then find a tiny door that looks like it ought to be for a closet but is, instead, for a little kitchen. There’s a little coffee maker and a minifridge. Everything is empty.
I’ll be leaving a note for housekeeping.
We take short showers and change into the clean jumpsuits left behind in the dorm closet.
With nothing else to do, I end up turning on the monitor. Terminus is nearly asleep in his chair but, otherwise, I’m alone in the common room. I think Jinx and Navarro are fighting or making out or something.
After a while, a bright blue graphic and a fancy seal that reads the Provisional Government of the New United States appears. It dissolves into Rosenthal standing at a podium. He’s obviously somewhere here in SEALAB, but if you didn’t know that, you wouldn’t know that. The room he’s in has been modelled after the press briefing room at the White House. Rosenthal’s dressed in a well-fitted navy suit and pastel blue tie. His wife, Celia, is behind him in a tasteful sky blue dress. General Copeland flanks Rosenthal’s other side.
Rosenthal gives the camera a piercing stare and begins speaking.
“My fellow citizens, it is with a heavy heart that I address you this evening, in the wake of the massive destruction and loss of human life that occurred in Southern California earlier today. I am David Rosenthal, the properly, democratically elected president of the United States, and I am deeply saddened by the unprecedented move by acting president Ammon Carver...”
“Turn that off!” Navarro shouts from the bedroom he chose. “I’ve had enough of Rosenthal for today.”
I move the volume slider down. But I keep it on. This speech could be important.
Jinx comes out of her room a second later. “You’re the one who’s so worried about what they might be planning. We should go out there and figure it out.”
“Since assuming office using dishonest and duplicitous methods, Mr. Carver has allowed a difficult economy to devolve into a crisis. He’s suspended the routine operations of the government, disbanding Congress and...”
Navarro follows Jinx. “I wasn’t suggesting that we go out there and—”
Terminus sits up, looking alive for the first time in a while. “Oh no. No. No. I’m not sneaking around the secret underwater military base where the president is being guarded by General Copeland. No. Just. No.”
“How would we get out even if we wanted to?” I ask, turning away from the screen. “We couldn’t get out of our room back at Fort Marshall.”
“My dad built that security system,” Jinx says. “
This is crap.” She holds up a black duffel bag. “Plus, they let Terminus bring a bag.”
Jinx plops the bag on the table in front of me, and the monitor rocks from side to side. I watch Rosenthal’s face bounce around as she unzips Terminus’s bag. “I’m sure he must have something in here that—”
I try to pay attention to Rosenthal, but it’s almost impossible with them fighting in the background.
“...resulting in the deaths of millions of civilians. In the past twenty years, The Spark made great strides toward a more just, equitable and democratic civilization. We’ve stabilized wages, protected civil rights for all, introduced universal health care and passed landmark legislation to repair damage done to our environment. But The Opposition has been reluctant to relinquish their position of unearned social and economic privilege and unwilling to...”
Terminus waddles out of his recliner. “Hey! Don’t look through my stuff.”
A pair of underwear flies over my head. “Okay. Here we go,” Jinx says.
Navarro makes a disgusted noise. “You touched his underwear.”
Jinx ignores him and holds up an e-tablet. “This has minimal functionality, but we should be able to get it to run a script that...”
Rosenthal keeps talking.
“It is tempting to think that if we acquiesce to Carver’s demands, things will go back to normal. But, friends, I ask you to stand with me and envision a world where systemic poverty is not normal, where injustice is not normal, where challenges to basic freedoms are not normal. To build that world we must...”
Terminus tries to get the e-tablet from Jinx. “That’s not yours. It’s for...”
I look up in time to see Terminus stare at me and blush.
He brought the e-tablet for me. His face goes totally red and it’s kinda cute.
Ugh. Seriously. Focus.
Jinx rolls her eyes and holds the e-tablet out in front of her where Terminus can’t reach it. “It’s for MacKenna. I know. She can have it as soon as I unlock the door. I’ll even clean the screen so my fingerprints won’t be on it. Get me the data cable for this thing.”
“You know, when I said your father left you in charge, I didn’t mean of me personally,” Terminus tells her.
“To build that world we must work together now. Dare to do the difficult work that lies ahead. If there is to be war, then, however reluctantly, we must fight. If there is to be injustice, we must resist the temptation...”
Jinx is at the door, ripping the plastic cover off of the electronic door lock system.
“What did Rosenthal say to you anyway?” Navarro asks. “Back there in his office.”
“He said he’s doing his job,” I say.
Navarro groans. “Lying is his job. He’s a politician.”
Am I still for Rosenthal? Everyone’s for Rosenthal. Do I still believe it?
Terminus leans over Jinx’s shoulder. “That’s how you’re going to do it? A recursive function? Why not just...”
“It should say something about the nature of our fight that men like General Copeland, men of unparalleled valor and unequaled leadership, are willing to...”
I know I probably look and sound like a big goon. “Maybe he’s for real.”
What if he could be?
“Tell yourself whatever you want,” Navarro says.
“Got it,” Jinx says. And sure enough, the door is open a crack.
Terminus stares at the door. “When they toss us out into the freezing deep sea to be food for whatever weird, bioluminescent, poisonous creatures are floating around out there, I want it on the record that I opposed this idea.”
“Stay here, then,” Navarro tells him flatly.
Rosenthal leans toward the camera, and it’s like he’s addressing me personally.
“I, myself, have lived a life of some privilege and comfort, and there are those who might rightfully say that it’s easy for me to urge us all to hold out for a better tomorrow when there’s a chicken in my pot today. But friends, I say to you...”
“Let’s go,” Jinx says.
I can’t look away from Rosenthal.
“I say to you truly. I can see the Promised Land so truly and completely. Right in front of us. The time is now. We’re ready. Are you with me?”
Am I?
Jinx hesitates by the door. “Okay...so you’re staying here, then?”
I turn the monitor off. “No. I’m coming.”
Jinx pokes her head into the hall. It’s all clear.
“I guess we’re assuming there’s no video surveillance?” Navarro says.
“I’m sure there’s CCTV,” she says with a shrug. “But Rosenthal is probably still speaking, and everyone is either watching him or helping him. Copeland is in that briefing room too. That’s what I’d be watching. Plus, this is obviously designed to be a research station. The security isn’t that good.”
Oh sure. Obviously.
Jinx takes a left out of the dorm, but Terminus tugs the sleeve of her jumpsuit.
“The computer lab is the other way,” he says.
“So you want to go in there and ask to borrow a workstation? We need to find an empty office. I say we try Research,” she says.
We follow her, trying to do our best to keep flush with the walls and watch for cameras. We come to the door labeled RECORDS.
“I bet nobody’s in there,” Terminus says.
Navarro is able to jimmy the records door open with a small knife he found in the kitchenette of the dorms. Terminus is right. It’s empty of people, with a lone metal desk and a strange-looking rectangular computer on top of it. It’s also tiny, and there’s no way all four of us will fit. Navarro and I stand watch while Jinx and Terminus go in the room. Snippets of their hushed arguments waft into the hall.
Jinx: Check common username and password combos from Fort Marshall—
Terminus: Oh sure, let’s just announce ourselves because—
Jinx: The alternative being what? A brute force attack? We don’t have time—
My boots squeak awkwardly on the floor. Navarro and I look at each other and then look away. Finally, I blurt out, “So my dad is a fake terrorist and your dad is a real one?”
His face runs pale. “You’re really good at making idle conversation, you know? You could have tried the weather, the decor in here or how marvelous we all look in these jumpsuits.”
There’s a pause.
“And my father had about as much choice over whether to get involved in Project Cold Front as yours did in the bombings of those buildings.”
I’m sure he’s right.
“I’m sorry. I...”
“Shh!” He waves a hand at me.
It’s so like Gustavo Navarro to tell me to shut up when I’m trying to apologize. But then I hear it too.
Voices.
Getting louder.
“Susan! Time to go,” Navarro whispers into the crack in the door.
“One minute,” she tells him.
“We don’t have a minute!”
He’s right. Again. I really hated this trend of Navarro always being right.
Voices fill the hall, echoing off the white, shiny walls, getting louder. It’s a couple people I can’t identify and two voices that I can. Copeland and... Toby.
I’ve got this choking sensation. Like when I have a piece of popcorn stuck in my throat.
My situation barely improves when my brother rounds the corner alone.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he says. Tension lines his face. Copeland and the other soldiers must have stopped a few feet before they turned the corner. Toby looks around in every direction. He’s thinking about turning us in. I can see it in his eyes.
My own brother is going to rat us out.
Navarro steps close to my brother. “They’re going to ki
ll her, you know. They might kill all of us, to be thorough. But it’s Susan they really need.”
“No, they’re not.” Toby shakes his head. Slowly. Uncertainly.
“There always has to be someone to blame,” Navarro almost spits at him.
Jinx and Terminus emerge from the small room.
“We got it,” she says.
The two of them eye Toby uncertainly.
LEAD: Teen hackers steal secret files from The Spark.
The journalist in me has a thousand questions about what they think they’ve got. But the me who’s just a girl has only one.
What the hell has happened to my brother?
The general’s voice is growing louder again.
“Go,” Toby says in a low voice.
We take off at a run and don’t stop until the dormitory door is safely shut behind us.
The time has come to move the resistance from the sofa to the street.
—PRESIDENT-ELECT DAVID ROSENTHAL
Pirated national radio address
JINX
I shut down the machine and head into the hall with Terminus.
I’m surprised to see Toby and even more surprised when he tells us to run away. But two things are now clear. Toby doesn’t really have our back anymore, and Copeland is psychotic.
I’m sweating when we burst back into the dorm.
I stash the e-tablet under the coffee maker while Navarro fixes the electronic log-in panel. It’s Terminus who manages to look the least suspicious of all of us. He’s back in the easy chair holding his stomach.
There’s no time to think about what we saw on the SEALAB computer. About what we know. I barely have time to catch my breath.
There’s a knock on the door and then Toby pushes it open without waiting for a response from us. “It’s dinnertime,” he says. Behind him, several soldiers lean in, maybe to get a glimpse of us.
And then we’re back in the white hallway, our jumpsuits making us look like a crew of club kids trailing behind the real soldiers in their serious uniforms. This time, Toby seems determined to, well, supervise us a little bit better. He takes us to a table for six. Jo joins us a couple minutes later. She seems far more comfortable than when we were together on the Booker.
