Chapter 24
Charles entered his holoconference room a few minutes before the beginning of the virtual press conference of President Ken La Hood, a Republican from Texas with Chinese ancestors. He walked around the audience avatars until he found Skip, who was talking to another person. The holoconference software labelled everyone and it showed that he was the Chief Executive of Boeing, but he did not pay any attention to Charles. Skip politely closed the conversation and turned to Charles,
“Don’t be surprised, it’s not rudeness, he just cannot see you. The code I gave you allows you to see and hear everybody but I am the only one who can see and talk to you.”
“Are you afraid I might ask our new President tough questions?” Charles asked, amused.
“Well, journalists are enough for that,” Skip smiled back, “They do not see me either, I am here to brief the President in real time, in case things get too sour. So I decided to use the same trick and invite some good friends.”
“Is this taking place in the White House, Skip?” Charles asked.
“Are you nuts? With all the guerilla taking place in D.C. and Virginia? That’s the front line. No, the President can be anywhere, in the Cheyenne Mountain National Command or flying over Kansas on Air Force One, for that matter. Luckily, Internet infrastructure is withstanding the damage of the war. Ok, take your virtual seat now, it’s starting.”
The 3D image of Ken La Hood took the podium. The first question came from Ashton Webb, of the Los Angeles Herald.
“Mr. President, will you take a more assertive position against Mexico? There is ample evidence that the Mexican government is actively supporting all the warlords that have set up micro-states, from Southern California to the Houston area.”
“I can tell you, Mr. Webb, that I have ordered the Pentagon to regain full control of the southern border, by all means possible. Should Mexico continue in its ambiguous policy, they will be facing all the consequences.”
“Will this iron fist policy also be applied to other secessionist states? Do you plan to send exoskeleton brigades and fly storms also to the Pacific Northwest and in the Southeast? Do you think Congress will approve of that?” The question came from the Washington Post representative.
“My goal is to ensure that, at the end of my mandate in 2044, the United States is again a single country, able to lead the world out of the hole where we’ve dug ourselves up in the last few years. It’s clear we have to adapt our means to each and every circumstance, and you cannot deal with the Northwest Confederation like you can with Florida or Tennessee.”
A hand waved from the bottom of the room, the presidential press agent hinted he could speak.
“Good morning, I am Lenny Johnson, of ‘The Atlanta Spectator’. Mr. President, do you still trust the advice of the Center for Disease Control, even if it now belongs to a secessionist state?” The question took the President by surprise, and he looked at Skip, who nodded to him.
“Mr. Johnson, my understanding is that the CDC is one of the few institutions that still deserve respect from all the people, not only in America but in the whole world. So, yes, I trust them.”
“So you will follow their advice to stop biodrone usage and indiscriminate distribution of antibiotics?” Lenny continued. The President knew where this was going and was quickly to roll back on his opening.
“Trust does not mean enact each and every one of their suggestions. Let me start from the antibiotics. If we did not massively finance drug distribution, the number of victims from cold-related sicknesses, would strongly outnumber the one from the new strains of influenza and other bacteria, that I know is increasing. But we have no concluding evidence that this is a long term danger. As per their research on biodrone proliferation, I think this is one of the few aspects of their work where they are clearly under the influence of the rebel government, that has no serious idea about this key technology.” The journalist did not buy the answer and insisted,
“Then how about the swarm of flies that last August destroyed Raleigh, North Carolina?”
The President turned towards Skip, who, invisible to the rest of the audience, projected three slides from his tablet.
“It was a very peculiar combination of the large amount of drones we used in the operation and the exceptionally hot and humid conditions at the time of the battle. We eventually dealt with the swarm by using chemicals. Maybe the rebel government of Georgia and Florida is still resenting the loss of its army, I, for sure, still resent the loss of more than three hundred thousand American lives, no matter what part of the barricade they stood on.”
It was the turn of the foreign press. The journalist was unmistakably Asian. He introduced himself as Ma Jie, of the China Daily.
“Mr. President, how will you stick to your commitment to the security of Jewish Americans, now that the number of attacks on them is increasing by the day?”
President La Hood took a deep breath. American journalists had tacitly avoided recalling the story, but he could not control the Chinese.
“Mr. Jie, you know that the campaign of violence and hatred started on the leaks that the CIA was neutralizing anti-Jewish activists on behalf of the Mossad. Those allegations have never been proved,” the President continued, exchanging glances with the head of the FBI and Skip Ross, who both nodded in agreement, “but nonetheless the situation has worsened for many of our fellow Jewish Americans, to the extent that they have had to flee many states, especially those under the control of the rebels.”
The President took a pause, then continued.
“During the campaign, I clearly said I would address this intolerable situation. Today, I can give you some additional elements. We are planning to create gated communities, where the security will be guaranteed until the rebellion comes to an end and they can go back to their neighborhoods, if they wish to.”
Charles could not believe what he was hearing and turned towards Skip.
“Skip, what the hell is he saying, are we reinventing ghettos?”
Skip dismissed Charles’ reaction by slowly waving his hand.
“Ghetto, what a big word,” he replied, “just keep listening.”
“Let me be very clear,” the President continued. “These are by no means ghettos in the grim way we used to know them. First, Jewish Americans are by no means forced to relocate there. They will move to the gated communities on an exclusively voluntary basis. Second, many of these communities are actually established in and around existing Jewish neighborhoods, like Crown Heights in Brooklyn, New York. And last, it is only a temporary measure, a trade off we have to endure through these hard times where most of the security forces are busy re-uniting our nation and cannot commit enough resources to defend minorities from racial hatred.”
“You see?” Skip said with a condescending tone to Charles, “you won’t have to relocate with Sally, and in any case, Brooklyn is not that far away from your Long Island home. It’s just we do not have enough police.”
Charles could not understand if Skip was kidding or deliberately provoking him.
“You created this, didn’t you?” Charles hissed at Skip, “when you sent me to Israel to get the biodrone design, that’s what you were offering in exchange. Now that you no longer need the Israeli support, you let them go.”
“I do not know what you are talking about, Charles,” Skip replied indifferently, “It is all about winning the second civil war that this country is facing. Everyone has to endure some sort of sacrifice. I trust you and your girlfriend can contribute a little, given the benefits you got so far. Or am I asking too much from you?”
Charles sat back and thought. He then stood up and headed for the exit, but Skip went on,
“Charles, I know it’s difficult. I think this page will be remembered in history books as the “Andersonville” of our war, we will always regret it when things are over, yet we cannot avoid it.”
Charles stopped and turned back to Skip. In the background, the press conference wa
s continuing, unaware of their exchange.
“It’s not only that, Skip,” he said disconsolated, “It’s that I find it increasingly difficult to see you in the place of Ulysses Grant, and even less in that of Abe Lincoln.”
The Last Enemy - Parts 1,2 & 3 - 1934-2054 Page 70
