The General raised his eyebrows. “Quite a game you’re proposing,” he said.
“The only game worth playing, General. Should be interesting. Are you in?”
The General smiled.
19.14
Two days later Stendahl Banks got the highest ratings of his career. At four thirty-seven in the afternoon, an ACN Special Report broke into their regular programming, interrupting an episode of their hit game show, Yes We Can! There sat Stendahl Banks in what looked like a large, open lounge area. Across from him, next to a woodstove with a fire blazing brightly, sat Linda Travis, her head now shaved. As the two of them spoke, word spread like wildfire around the planet. Soon, tens and hundreds of millions of viewers were watching. ACN’s feed, made freely available to anyone and everyone, saturated the airwaves.
“So, I don’t know where to begin, Mrs. President,” said Banks nervously, obviously bewildered by the whole thing. “I suppose the first question is, what happened? Where have you been? What’s going on? And how did you end up coming to me?”
Linda smiled. “Times are so urgent we have to ask our questions four at a time, don’t we, Mr. Banks?”
“Excuse me?” said Banks.
Linda waved him off. “Just a joke for an absent friend,” she said wistfully. She shifted in her chair and held her hands out to warm them in the fire. She turned back to Banks. “You need to understand that I don’t know what to say to you, Mr. Banks. There’s much that I don’t yet understand. I’m not sure what will help. And much of what I have to say will profoundly challenge the belief systems out of which we’ve been operating, and which most people regard as reality itself. Learning to question such fundamental assumptions is not easy, Mr. Banks. So I need you to go slowly with me. I need you to ask really good questions. I need you to hang in there with me, even when I sound insane. And I need you to agree to just suspend judgment for a while, and let this play out. It will take some time to unravel this past week’s events, Mr. Banks. I need your help with that. Today, and in the weeks and months and years to come. I need your help. Can you do that for me?”
Stendahl Banks thought for a moment, then nodded his head. “I can help,” he said. He was completely disarmed.
“Thank you,” said Linda. There were tears welling in her eyes.
“You’ll tell me where to stick it if I get out of line, right?” joked Banks.
Linda laughed. “You know I will.”
The interview proceeded from there. The President spoke of that first briefing, so many months ago, of the conspiracy to hide the presence of alien beings on this planet, of the secret government that had slowly taken control of the world. She spoke of her escape and of the chase that ensued, of her capture and her torture and of how she escaped once again. She spoke vaguely of those who helped her along the way, some of whom had given their lives so that the truth might be told. She described how the aliens have now withdrawn their support from this shadow government and explained how the recent disruptions and destructions around the planet were a manifestation of that withdrawal. She told of what she had come to understand about the planetary crises they now face, from the decline of fossil fuels to the chaotic climate and the destruction of soils, oceans, forests and entire ecosystems. “We’re on our own now, and it’s time for us to prove that we are worthy of survival,” Linda said to the camera. “We have been terribly, terribly off.” The world sighed.
She said nothing of Cole and his children, of Keeley and Pooch, of Obie or the Inuit. She named few names. She insisted that she be allowed to take the time she needed, the time the country needed, to uncover and resolve the situation in a way that would help the planet and her many living creatures, rather than simply serve the interests of politicians, bankers, or the media outlets. And she insisted that there would be no witch-hunt, to seek out and punish those who have stood in the way of the truth. “We will find some other way through this, Mr. Banks,” she said. “Those who need to be contained will be contained. The rest of us will find some way to come together again, as we face into our new situation. The withdrawal of the Strangers is punishment enough.”
There was anger and disbelief and ridicule aplenty. Some called for impeachment proceedings. Others called for commitment papers. But there was gratitude and relief as well. There was something about this President that seemed more real than any politician most folks could remember, even as crazy as her story might sound. She was telling the truth as she saw it, just like she said she would. She said hard things. She said them straight out. And in these bleak economic times, there was something strangely comforting about that. As tough as these times were, it actually felt good to at least know and speak the truth of it. People had had enough of the lies.
They ended the interview and turned off the cameras. Banks sat still and calm in his chair, looking at Linda as Cole came up behind her and massaged her back. “Thank you, Mrs. President,” said Banks.
Linda knew what he meant. She hadn’t outed his own involvement with the People. She hadn’t mentioned those fake videos of her death that he’d made for Rice. She arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to make it up to me, Mr. Banks,” she said. She stood and walked away.
Stendahl Banks nodded. He had to admit that she was probably right. He unclipped his body mic and stood to stretch his legs. Around him his crew wrapped equipment and loaded the truck. If they hurried, he could be back in his own bed in Alexandria tonight. He stepped out onto the ski club’s front porch and looked up at the sky. It was after seven and the stars were out. He hugged himself against the cold October air and sighed.
He did not know if he would like Vermont.
19.15
Linda had known she was speaking off the cuff, but she just couldn’t help herself. When Banks had asked about rebuilding Washington D.C., she knew that it would never happen. And she knew that she could not go back there. “I’m afraid it’s way too early to talk of such things, Mr. Banks,” she had said. “It may be that the systems in which we’ve been operating have been built on some fundamental mistakes. And if we are truly at the breaking points of energy and economy and the environment, I’m not sure it serves any of us to spend the time, money and resources it would take to rebuild the massive structures that housed those systems.”
Linda shifted in her chair, leaning forward eagerly as if she’d finally found her life’s work. “I don’t know what will happen in the coming months and years and decades, Sten, as we dig to the bottom of this mess we’ve created and find our way through it. I just don’t know. We’ll have to figure that out together, won’t we? Not just the government and corporations and banks, but the American people as a whole, each and every one of us. We’ll have to figure out who we’re going to be in these challenging times. And we’ll have to maintain the peace here at home, as we end the war our entire culture is now waging all around the globe: the war against the land and the seas and the atmosphere; the war against the poor and powerless; the war against reality itself.” Linda settled back in her chair and smiled. “I’m not sure most of us really have a clue about what’s going on here on planet Earth, Mr. Banks,” she said.
Stendahl Banks sat back and smiled in return.
“In any event,” continued Linda, “I intend to remain in Vermont for now. I will discharge my duties from here, with only a skeleton staff. The rest of it will have to wait for another day.”
“Will the American people accept such changes?” asked Banks, visibly surprised by Linda’s declaration.
Linda nodded, thanking Banks for getting right to the heart of it. “I think that’s my job in all of this, Mr. Banks,” she said. “To help the American people understand that, by learning to live within the laws of this world, we will find a life far more satisfying than anything we’ve achieved by breaking those laws. The journey together will entail a great deal of change, and we may find that facing into that change with eyes wide open will be the greatest and most fulfilling thing we’ve ever done. We’ve been acting
like petulant children, Mr. Banks, demanding our own way at every turn and throwing a fit when we don’t get it. I, for one, think it will feel really good to grow up and start acting like an adult.”
Stendahl Banks could not keep his head from nodding in agreement. “Why Vermont?” he asked.
“Personal reasons,” said Linda with a wink. She left it at that, and Banks didn’t pry.
“You were great!” said Emily through the screen door as Linda and Cole walked past the security agents now guarding the house and up the steps to their home.
“You guys see the whole thing?” asked Linda.
“Yeah,” said Iain. “Even your hair looked okay.”
Linda rubbed her head. “Thanks, kiddo. High praise.”
“So are you moving in here?” asked Emily. She helped Linda with her coat, holding it as the President pulled her arms from the sleeves.
Linda hesitated. She and Cole had talked about this on the way home. But she was still nervous. It was all moving so quickly. And she did not know what she would do if the answer were “no.” At last she asked her question. “Would you like me to?”
“Duh,” said Iain, rolling his eyes.
“Sure,” agreed Emily.
Linda sighed and smiled. “Then I guess we can work something out,” she said. Emily and Iain went upstairs to tell Grace and Alice.
“We can’t stay here,” said Linda, turning to Cole.
“I know,” he said gently.
“It’s going to be hugely disruptive, wherever we go. You know that, right?”
“I do know that.”
“It’s going to change your lives completely, if you hook up with me.”
“It already has, Mrs. President.” Cole pulled Linda to him and kissed her gently on the forehead. He pulled away to look her eye to eye. “Like Iain said, we can’t go back.”
“They’ll be ripped out of their schools,” said Linda.
“I think maybe we’ll home-school now,” said Cole.
“They’ll lose touch with their friends.”
Cole smiled. “You trying to get rid of me?” he asked.
“I’m trying to make sure you really want this,” she replied.
“A lot of people went to a great deal of trouble to get us to this point, Linda. It would be a shame to chicken out now.”
Linda stared into Cole’s eyes for the longest time. She still hadn’t gotten used to those eyes: so calm, so certain, and as deep and vast as the night sky. His body was so new now, strong and clean and sure. It fit him now, this body. He walked more surely in the world with it, confident that he should be here, not doubting for a moment that he belonged at her side. Linda noticed that her heart was pounding like an unbalanced washing machine, as if it were about to fly off its axis, head straight for the sun, and burst overhead, filling the sky with fireworks. Then an uncertainty darkened her face and she looked away, as if she could relieve her doubts by denying them.
“Can we trust this?” she asked at last. She brought her eyes back to the man before her.
“Trust what?” said Cole.
Linda inhaled deeply. “Can we trust a love that was created by aliens?”
Cole grinned, searching the room around him and the ceiling overhead, then returning to meet her gaze. “I don’t see any aliens around here, Linda,” he said. His eyes sparkled.
“C’mon, Cole,” said Linda, shaking him gently by the shoulders. “I’m serious.”
Cole pulled Linda closer so that they were touching heart to heart. “Feel me, my love,” he whispered into her ear. “There are no aliens in here. The heart that wants to embrace you is my own. The mind that wants you and respects you and adores you and needs you, the skin that craves your touch, the blood that rushes toward you, it’s all mine, Linda. It’s all me. If the aliens pushed us, it was over a cliff from which we might have fallen in any case. But they’re not pushing me now. And I’m still falling, Linda. I’m still falling…”
Linda buried her face even deeper into Cole’s neck and sighed deeply. She flashed on her dream of Earl, tossing a tennis ball to a big, black dog. Earl, too, had come to her with the aliens’ assistance. He’d swept her off her feet, set her on her way, and then fallen by the wayside, as if his work were finished. And now they’d brought her Cole…
It hit Linda then that her fear was not that the aliens had given them their love, but that they would take it away. She didn’t think she could withstand that. And she knew from experience that there were no guarantees.
Linda let the fear wash over and through her and beyond. She came back to the present moment and squeezed the beautiful creature in her arms, then pulled away and crinkled her nose. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“I’m thinking maybe Montpelier,” she added.
“We’ll make it work.”
Linda listened to the kids as they broke out laughing overhead. She thought of her other dream, of that last corner, of that long walk down the slope. She shuddered, to think what future these kids might see. “I hope we can,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I hope we can.”
19.16
The phone woke them from sleep and Cole answered. “Who?” he said groggily. “What?” He listened for a bit. “How did you get this number?”
Linda sat up and turned on the light. Cole’s face was dark with anger. He looked at her, the receiver held away from his head, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Got a guy here says he needs to speak with you,” he said. “Are you—?”
Linda nodded and took the phone. “Hello?”
“That was well done,” said the voice, an older man from the sound of it, with an elegant British accent. “Brilliant. Love the hair.”
“Who is this?” asked Linda.
The older man laughed. “One of the people you could not name today,” he said. “A good friend whom you’ve not yet met. Perhaps you should just call me the Fisherman.”
Something about the man’s voice shook Linda with alarm, as if electric ice were pouring from the receiver. She caught hold of her pounding heart and asked the only question she could think to ask. “Why ‘the Fisherman’?”
“Because I’m the one who’s got a line on you, Linda,” the man said coolly. “I’m the one who will reel you in if you try to break away.”
The man’s arrogance pissed her off; the jolt of anger restored a bit of her self-assurance. “I guess the fact that your alien buddies have taken a powder has you folks all a-flutter.”
The man laughed. “It’s an interesting time, Mrs. President, I’ll give you that. You should know that their departure is the reason you’re still alive.”
“And suppose I just tell you to go fuck yourself and hang up?” asked Linda.
“I would expect nothing else, Mrs. President. It’ll be interesting to watch when you figure out just where Mr. Thomas got it all wrong. Glad to hear you’re doing so well. Forgive me for disturbing your sleep. I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”
“How did Obie get it wrong?” blurted Linda. But it was too late. The man had hung up.
“Who was that?” asked Cole.
Linda exhaled noisily to forestall a scream. Her body trembled. She tried to smile but found she could not. Cole took her in his arms.
They packed and moved the next morning.
19.17
The six of them spent long days together in the hidden mountain home they’d rented, as far removed from the world as they could make it. To the extent that Linda had to interact with people face to face, she let them come to her, meeting them at secret rendezvous points around the state. Stan Walsh guarded them all with grace and dedication, and with what felt like half the armed forces some days. Linda had no idea who this “Fisherman” was, or what the dangers to them really were, but she would err on the side of great caution and damn the rest of the world. She knew that soon enough she’d have to dive back in. There’d be meetings with the Congress and the Sen
ate, the Joint-Chiefs, the Supreme Court. There’d be speeches at the United Nations, television interviews, and personal appearances. She’d promised leadership. She would have to deliver on that.
But not today. The beliefs and assumptions of politics and economics were not the only stories that would have to change; Linda was committed to changing her personal stories as well. With the future feeling so uncertain, Linda vowed to find more and more meaning in each moment of her life. She honored that she was caught in the carelessness of new love and the dictates of grief and healing, so she let the days take care of themselves. And she didn’t give a damn what anybody thought about that.
There were happy things, and sad, in those quiet days. They called and checked on Mary. Rice’s blow to her nose had thrust a few tiny shards of bone right up into her brain, but it seemed she would pull through. The doctors were cautiously optimistic for a full recovery. The thorough search of all D.C. area hospitals had yielded nothing; Linda’s mother was not to be found. Slowly Linda came to accept that Rice had at last told the truth, and that her mother had been lost in the blackness as surely as Obie had been. They learned in an email from their pilot, Beck, that Sina’s group had gone missing. “Out onto the ice,” he wrote. Nobody seemed to know why, and Beck’s email could not be returned.
Linda tracked down Keeley’s sister’s number, and she spoke with her old friend on the phone. “Hi, Cornfed,” said Keeley, fumbling with the handset. Her voice was faint and shaky.
“Oh, Keeley.” It was all Linda could say before bursting into tears. The two women cried together over the telephone lines for a full five minutes before either was able to speak again. Linda told Keeley what she knew of Grace’s encounters with Pooch and Jack in the astral realm, relaying the message Pooch had given Grace: to tell Keeley he was happy and well. The message seemed to bring Keeley some measure of relief, but failed to assuage her grief.
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