"Stop saying stuff like that," Zack says in a low, rough voice, scowling. "It's not funny, and the answer is still no, got it?"
Olivia looks up and sees Amy walking toward them with a carry-out bag. "Hey, Ames! Tell Zack he should totally go to the dance tomorrow!"
Caught off guard, Amy doesn't know how to respond. A fixed smile on her face, she sets down the bag and her tablet displaying the total bill. After a moment of panicked thought, she realizes what Olivia really wants. "Oh. Oh! Yeah, Zack, you should go. And take your sister! You guys will have a blast."
"Um, sure, I guess," Zack replies, his uncertainty plain in his voice and expression. "Maybe I'll see you there?" He taps his phone on the tablet to pay.
Amy picks up the tablet and starts walking back toward the register. Then she stops and turns abruptly, having made up her mind. "Definitely! And you better save me a dance!"
Emma is doing the robot dance again when Amy returns to the back room a moment later.
❖❖❖
A tall, solidly built bald man of few words who calls himself Dr. John Buchanan adjusts his seat in the train pod to get a better view of Manhattan. Once the financial and cultural hub of the United States, the island is now much less than it was, and is administered by and under the control of the United Nations. Few of its skyscrapers remain, and many thought the city's fate lay underwater when the ice sheets of both Greenland and Antarctica slipped into the ocean and the sea levels rose by several dozen feet. Battery Park and other low-lying neighborhoods were lost, but a collective desire to conserve what remained of the past came together to save the last great metropolis still standing after the Great War. Now a high plascrete wall holds back the ravaging Atlantic.
Tonight, the city will come alive once again. All eyes will be on the diminished core of the Big Apple as individuals of all kinds and species travel from every part of the world to protest or defend tomorrow's controversial announcement. Tomorrow is the sorry day when the United Nations, a puppet government controlled by the planet's alien saviors, will recognize the Ucte government as the ruling party of Planet Azha.
The train dips underground as it enters Manhattan, and a few moments later, Buchanan exits at the City Hall train stop. The station is crowded with police officers and individuals already heading to Central Park for tonight's rally. New Yorkers know all about getting in place early and camping out for an event; he vaguely remembers reading about the days-long lines for Hamilton tickets when he would have been a young child. What gluttons for punishment humans are, he thinks.
Buchanan walks up the stairs, slaps his hand on the scanner panel at the egress, and pushes open the double door panels to exit the station as it beeps him through.
When he emerges topside, he stalks down Broadway until he reaches the entrance of the Woolworth Building, now home to New York's United Nations Special Task Force division. Two officers ask for his identification before allowing him to enter. He presents it, and is escorted into the building and taken to the 53rd floor.
Paul McKinnie, the Chief of the much-diminished New York Police Department, rises from behind his desk as he enters the man's office. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Doc," he says.
"Not a problem. Port Jervis takes less than an hour on the bullet train."
"Good," McKinnie says, shaking Buchanan's hand. "I can't have anyone die, alien or human, on my watch, so I'm counting on you." He hands the Doctor a tablet. "This lays out everything you need to know, including the people comprising your team."
"I'll do my best," Buchanan replies.
McKinnie sighs, his eyes looking ancient. "I know you will. You always do. But I need more than your best today, Doc." Without further ado, McKinnie opens the bottom drawer of his desk and takes out a bottle of Jack Daniels, which Buchanan knows is still made according to tradition in what used to be Tennessee. He fills two glasses and hands one to the doctor. Then he walks to his office window, and watches the gathering crowd chant and wave their posters in the park below.
"Why are we so divided?" he asks. "With so few of us left, we should be reclaiming what's ours. Earth belongs to us, not the aliens. It's our planet."
"I imagine the aliens would counter by saying that we wouldn't have a planet without their help," Buchanan says, sipping the whiskey thoughtfully.
"There's that," McKinnie agrees, before falling into a mood so deep and black that the Doctor can't pry him out of it. After finishing his Tennessee sippin' whiskey, Buchanan quietly departs.
Chapter 2
Although Zack isn't ordinarily into parties, he's excited about the opportunity to dance with the lovely Amy, the girl of his dreams. And the dance will be held at the newly renovated community center on the outskirts of town — the same place where his Earthling parents got married, what, 25 years ago now? Maybe that was a good omen.
He visualizes himself on the dance floor with Amy, holding her close during a slow dance as she rests her head on his chest. He wonders if he can remain calm and collected when that happens. He also wonders if Mike will remain cool and collected when that happens, instead of blowing a gasket, but he really doesn't care...
Zack's daydreaming is interrupted by his father, who launches his mug of beer against a wall. "I knew this was going to happen, DAMMIT!"
Zack focuses his attention on the TV. BREAKING NEWS crawls across the screen in uppercase red letters. Above the crawl, Head Minister Liam Bannon of the United Nations is shaking hands with Jabieko, the newly appointed ambassador and former Ucte general
