by P. S. Power
The reporter made a face at him, and nearly yelled the single follow up question, "what?"
Brian hesitated then, "um, I need more than that. Which part is shocking information? The alien part, that the rest of them are friendly, or that this whole thing that is going on has been about slaughtering regular people at the whim of a madwoman so that the Infected will end up in control of the world?"
"That last bit. Isn't it about killing the Infected? Most of the attacks and riots have been protesting them..."
He nodded. It really was confusing, which was the point, no doubt. Keeping regular people off guard and baffled enough that they'd make stupid choices.
"Okay, Braid has been leading the hate crowd for the last... who knows how long, honestly. Not just the ones that dislike the Infected either. Most of them. If you hate anyone and have a club for it, she's very likely behind setting it up. Over time she's been working to bring people into conflict. It's in order to try and bring about one singular path into the future, to quiet down what she sees all the time. Obviously that can't work, since the future is always subject to change, and has to be, unless something is holding it all in place, but her insanity won't let her see that. So she keeps plugging away, trying to make things easier for her to wrap her brain around. In her mind we need a lot of people to die, and for the Infected to end up on top. The problem there is that the Infected aren't always the best ones to be in charge." He raised his hand, trying to be a bit more energetic, since people were watching him, even though he'd kind of forgotten about that for a moment. Jim had really let him go on for a bit.
Now the reporter finally spoke, "I think we can all see that. The Infected are dangerous and unstable."
Brian laughed a bit, his voice starting to go dismal and dark. It took some will power, but he pushed that aside. No reason for him to sound like Nocturne as he tried to convince people how sane and in control he was.
"Right. Except that a lot of them really aren't that at all. It's easy to think that, but remember, most of you don't even know who the Infected people around you even are. Some of them are our leaders, and they do a good job of it. First modes can be all over the place. So the rules really should be that Infected that can deal emotionally should be given training and help. If they can't, we stop them. The same rules should apply to everyone though. If you go around acting out and hurting people, I don't care who you are, and no one should. Now that we're working together more, I'd like to see some programs starting to that end. Also, we should make a point of integrating Infected people into society. Making us all second or third class citizens doesn't help anything. In fact, that alone causes more problems than anything else. Most of the problems that I deal with would have never taken place if people could get a good job, and weren't being forced to fight." He laughed again and waved his hand. "I know, I'll get off the soapbox now. Still, the take away here is to calm down, not let Braid have her way, and to work together. Do that and we win. Don't, and... Well, you don't really want to see the future she has in store for us all. Too many of you watching this will die, if that happens. Maybe most of you."
The man went silent again, then nodded.
"I see. Well that's interesting information. I'm sure that a lot of people will want to chime in with their own opinions. Over to you, Barbara."
The red light on the camera went off then and Jim shifted, removing his microphone. He scowled a bit for a few seconds.
"Aliens?"
"From a different reality. We just don't have a better word for it. I can maybe set up a meeting with some for you? It could take a few weeks, but they're pretty much just people. Weird ones, but who isn't these days?"
"Seriously? That would work for me. Especially if I get another exclusive. I need to find something to make you look bad though. Any scandals in your past that I can use? My viewers don't really want to work together with the Infected, you know?"
Brian had kind of figured that out. This guy was clearly from the hate channel. So much so that Brian wondered why he hadn't recognized him. Probably because the news had mainly been turned to CNN over the last weeks. They had solid coverage, and a lot less name calling.
"Not about me, in particular. Well, there are some things, but they should wait. If I work out anything, I'll let you know? For now, can you get your people to push the inclusiveness thing? Working together to fight a common enemy? It's real, and if you do it, then things may actually calm down. Look at the death toll so far. Is it mainly innocent people dying, or people trying to attack others?"
The real answer was both, since a lot of the death came from people who were actually out starting things with the Infected, only to have others rush in to help their own which started making some real damage happen. That lasted until Bridget or some of the others got there. Then the Infected died too. Well, some were being shot by the crowds, but so were hobos and anyone that held different religious viewpoints than others. At least in places. Anything the group didn't like was being taken as a sign of Infection now.
Because of course, being Kosher was the same as having deadly eye beams.
Jim was a bit prickly after that, but Brian didn't let him off the hook, suggesting that he really try to get things together. It might not work, Brian knew. The man made his living by fomenting hate.
Finally he sighed.
"After all, in the end, your network is probably either owned or at least run, by Braid. Trying to say this on the air probably won't be allowed. If they try to silence you, let us know, and we can see if some of the other networks will give you a chance."
The cameraman shook his head, but the people on his team left then, after unhooking him. They took off fast enough that it seemed like they were afraid Brian was going to ask them to come to a church meeting with him.
Kenny moved up beside him to watch him go, the young, pointy faced short guy grinned though.
"Fuck. Well, that went better than I thought it would. I wonder if any of it will be replayed? We should get with anyone else that will listen and see if they want an interview, too. Probably not. I imagine that we're all going to be in trouble for mentioning aliens anyway."
"Almost certainly. Well, I should probably go and get with the President. I've been hiding, and he probably thinks I'm dead. Really, I should have called him first. We're friends."
"Oh? He hasn't mentioned you." The guy was being a wise ass, but Brian got it. Who just called up President Lawrence? He had a direct number though, if he could find a secured line.
The man was one of his people. The ones that he'd protect and even considered as being personal friends. It had been interesting to find that taking place, but for some reason it really had.
He jogged back to the front office, the trailer looking thing they had for that. It looked like something you'd find on a construction site really. Except that no one was doing any work around the place to put in anything that seemed like a longer term structure. Not even real bathrooms. They were all either too busy, or things were too insecure for that.
Or, of course, no one cared. After all, real people were dying. It might not be fair, but Brian had a tendency to think that most un-Infected tended to view his kind as not being people, somehow. Like the way they looked at psychos. They were clearly human, but not like them. So it didn't count.
Inside the little white building the phones kept ringing, constantly, and it looked like all the lines were busy for some reason. Wren had Penny working right beside her, in the very front, and both were talking already. Through the open door to the back he could see that Marcia was doing the same on her cell. Her desk phone rang too, so he moved in, and picked it up.
"IPB, Brian Yi here." That sounded almost official, didn't it?"
"Brian? It's Bob Roberts, I didn't... I'm glad you're alive. Is that stuff going out on all the news stations true?"
They didn't have bathrooms, and he was willing to bet the showers involved a propane water heater and a garden hose, but Marcia did have CNN going o
n a little flat screen in the corner. It wasn't a huge thing, but he got the idea. Information was king, and always had been.
His face was on television. It was hard to look at himself, but he actually seemed all right for once. Not movie ready, but he was lean, and smooth looking. Under his face was something about aliens.
"I don't know, it looks about right." He covered things quickly for the man, who actually groaned when he was done.
"Damn... There's no way to spin that. I don't suppose you've gone off your meds or something that we can report to cover this up? People will freak if they find out we aren't alone in the universe. We've done studies. It never turns out well. Conservatives have a distinct fear and loathing of anything not like themselves. It's one of the major problems that we have as a species. Don't tell them I said so, but it's biological, too. They honestly can't help it. It's why we have to introduce everything so slowly. This is too much to drop on them all at once."
Brian could see that, he guessed. Still it was done, and needed.
"They aren't a threat to us. We can show that they're just other people and it will work, as long as we don't let people get too much traction about freaking out. Anyway, it's the right move. Hiding things isn't working. Braid has to work in secret, but not us. We're the good guys, and she's the one behind the mask." Good guys didn't need to hide who they were. That was the saying.
"Easy to say, until people are holed up tonight in their barns, ready to kill their kids because the aliens are invading." The Senator really seemed to think that would be happening, too.
It was stupid though.
"I... really don't think so. For one thing, we recently saved that particular world, from an energy crisis, so they're on our side, not Devorah's. Let people know that, and I bet it helps a lot. She isn't even a criminal really, just sick. Unbalanced, but clever."
"Yeah, that will play well... God Brian. Next time ask me first? I could have saved us all a lot of trouble."
The man hung up, which was a little abrupt for him. As the phone went down, Marcia glared at him, and kept talking to whoever she was one with.
"I don't know? I can confirm that it's all true, but no, I don't know what the hell he was thinking. You want to talk to him yourself? Sure, we can set up a time. How about this evening? If he's still around. He's Proxy, that means..."
He nodded, getting a flash of what was about to happen. This time he actually saw the scene in his mind first. There were fifteen or twenty people, all hiding behind things, as a familiar presence got ready to kill them all.
Brian raised his hand.
"I'm going out now. Great call on that one, by the way. It's almost like you and my power are in cahoots, working behind my back." Then he dove to the floor, just as the tingling hit. He rolled as a beam of white went over his head. Then Proxy did it again, since it tried to follow him, ripping the pavement up as he moved. Hopping to his feet he spun, just in time to see Bridget get who was there.
She looked slightly unreal, lit as she was by the neon and flashing lights of the Vegas strip.
"Brian?" She moved in and gave him a hug, which was strange, given that she was clearly fighting about twenty Infected people at the moment. Well, they were hiding, but it amounted to the same thing. She'd been about to kill them.
"Hey girl! I had to come back to the IPB. So, the new rule is that we aren't killing anyone if they're willing to calm down, or even run away, as long as they aren't trying to hurt people. I made it up, but did that on live television, so it's real enough." He raised his voice. "Everyone got that? We're all being used. The fighting is over now. Come on out."
Honestly he figured that an instant attack would come then. After all, the whole idea had to seem insane if you'd just been in the middle of getting ready to die. What happened was different than that, since half the people had guns, and the other half looked like they expected to be destroyed in a few seconds anyway. They all raised their hands. Only a few put the weapons down, but he could see that too. What if he were tricking them? Having a gun would mean they could at least try to take him out while Bridget ended their lives.
"All right, if you'd all come over here, and sign in? We need to know your names, but then you can all just go home. The fighting is done here, and soon will be everywhere. You may be questioned, later, but no one should be arrested. Except if you have drugs, so you know, go home and hide those." No one laughed, but after a bit, they all came over, except for one very panicked woman.
"God! It's Proxy, he's going to kill me!" That statement got her to start producing blades from the back of her arms. It was a cool effect, that nearly looked like it was computer generated. The metal didn't look real, so it was probably some kind of mental projection. Energy, rather than something more tangible. The blades started halfway down her forearms on the back, and moved over her hands. The arcs on each looked pretty cool, he had to admit. Before the lady could even move, Bridget aimed a thin, pale, hand at her, which glowed.
White, like her mother's, but a lot brighter. More deadly too, Brian didn't doubt. The damage to the surrounding area was probably in the millions already. How they still had power, he didn't know. It was pretty certain that Bridget was going to be banned from most of the casinos, when she came of age to go inside. He didn't mention that though.
"Move, and I'll be forced to kill you."
That didn't really help the woman at all. She was a bit wrinkled and older seeming. A little dumpy and gray, but there were smile lines on her face too, and she didn't seem that out of control. Just normal person scared, no matter what her mode really was. Not that Brian knew how he could tell.
He put an empty hand out, trying to do it in a way that wouldn't spook anyone.
"Slow there, Impulse. I'm not here to hurt anyone, ma'am. I was just the one that was available to let you all know that things are calming down now, and we're all going to be working together from now on. I'm on your side. All of your side. Even if that does sounds like an awkward way to put it. We're all on the same side. We always were, we were just being tricked." Looking around it was pretty clear that no one was trusting that yet, even though he sounded pretty reasonable now. "We all are. The government, the police, even the Republicans are coming over. We've been set up to fight, by a crazy woman. That ends now. So, please, put the blades away, and let's be friends? No one will hurt you. Right Bridget?"
She stopped glowing, which got the others to seem happier, if not the scared woman. Well, they were all frightened, he didn't doubt, but she was having a worse time of it than the rest.
"I... Please don't kill me! I just want to go home."
"Okay. That's fine. It's the plan even. We can arrange for some rides if you need them? Does anyone have any paper? Just for those interviews. Give a mailing address, and e-mail, if you have that, so we can just send around a questionnaire first. We get that most of you are just caught up in something you don't want to be, and the fewer house to house visits we have to make, the happier everyone will be." Because that made sense, didn't it?
A man ran off, and Bridget started after him, but stopped when Brian touched her arm. It made a slapping sound and stung, but she responded after no more than two steps. The fellow was clearly a lot faster than normal. Nearly as much as the girl next to him.
"No big thing. He's just going to miss out on a chance to win a free toaster. We did say everyone could go home."
Shrugging, the girl put one arm around his back. It wasn't exactly cuddly, Brian realized. She was hot, from her exertions, but the move was more like what he'd have expected from a family member. That got him to smile, feeling almost happy about it. The fact was that this girl was his granddaughter. No matter how unlikely that seemed. He'd been a horrible grandparent so far, or at least not all that good, but most of that was down to him simply not having known that they were related. Now he had a chance to do better.
Clearly enough the tiny redhead was thinking something pretty similar.
"It's good to ha
ve you back. Alive and everything, I mean. I'd wondered if anyone had made it, but... Mom and dad died, I think. I heard that Lauren might have made it. I haven't seen her yet. Marcia told me."
Brian knew that something like that had been mentioned a few weeks before, but didn't acknowledge that, standing in the open. He wasn't supposed to have had television after all.
Just as he was about to say something sympathetic, the quick man, who was pretty stocky for a runner, and actually looked chubby, not ripped or muscular, moved back in, gasping for air. In his slightly damp hand he had a yellow legal pad and a blue Bic pen. He hadn't been fleeing, just helpful. Like a good citizen should.
"Hey! Great. Thanks. Let's form a line and get to this then?"
Before the second person was written down, he moved back to Marcia. It tingled when he traded out, but only in the normal way. She glared but also stopped talking and stared at him, looking for injury.
That was a constant in his life, and had been for so long now he could hardly remember a time when him suddenly showing up didn't earn an impromptu medical check by whoever was around. Brian decided to take it as a sign that everyone loved him. At least the ones that knew him. He was playing around, internally, but it occurred to him that they had to at least like him, or they wouldn't have bothered with it at all, would they? Even if it was a rule, people would have done a lot less than they did if they didn't really care.
"I'm good. There was no fight this time. I was just helping Impulse collect the names of people, and their addresses, before we sent them home. We're going to send an e-mail, or letter, for them to fill out. A survey, or something like that. Maybe a newsletter, with recipes and pictures of our office parties. You know, asking for information about what they were doing there and why? We can use it to figure out what Braid is doing. I bet she doesn't see it coming. It's too weird for anyone to make sense of."
