“It’s okay, I understand.”
“Everybody had to be off the brain control drug, too.”
“Of course, I can sympathize with the detox; it doesn’t put you in any position to make decisions.”
“Look, also as part of the negotiation, we didn’t have any proof of what Brookshire did. And he still has some supporters on the newly formed board. And while I didn’t want him to be vice president, some of the new officials pushed it. And, well, I was trying to negotiate to get you out. So, I supported that position in the end.”
“So, will he be…?”
“Yes, I had to give in to get you out. But we have an eye on him now, we know him, and I’ll only have a short interim trial presidency and vice presidency. After a few months, when things are more sorted, we’ll have a real election. If I run, he most certainly will not be my vice president selection. If I don’t run, because I’m not sure at my age if I want this responsibility, I will not endorse him.”
“What about everybody else?”
“It’s tricky. We have to regain the trust of everyone. Being off the brain control will help, but it will take time and patience. We’re trying to make the transition as easy as possible. Pods will remain open for a while until people decide where they want to live, what career they may want—time to reunite with family and friends. Also, private housing needs to have services restored so people can start moving back into their previous homes if they want. All the staff and wives in the Palace will be living here until we get the specifics worked out. Everett had many, many children too; some are adults now, and it needs to get sorted out. Nobody will be punished for the crimes of their father. Especially given the control he had.”
“Ok. And not to be selfish, but what will happen to me?”
“That’s the best part, Davis. After what you and Ruby went through, you’ll be special advisors on a new board that we’re setting up. You are welcome to stay at the Palace, too. And full transparency, it doesn’t escape us that it is good publicity to have your mom and yourself on the board. But, because of what happened to you two, we’re genuinely interested in your story and ideas, too, Davis.”
“Thank you, Namaguchi, thank you! I don’t even really know how to express my gratitude. Can we get out of here now, though?”
“Yes, Davis. With pleasure, and I’ll escort you to the shower. You can clean up, and then, well, you’re free.”
“Just one more thing, Namaguchi.”
“Yes?”
“My name is Amelia,” she said with a smile and a glint in her eye.
October 22, 2056 – Brookshire
Brookshire sat at his security desk, straightening up and packing a small box of his items. There was not much but a few things. The picture of President Everett and himself he’d toss out, no reason to keep that, he thought. He opened the box that came back with him from quarantine; on top was a picture of stick figures dancing. He crumbled it up and threw it in the trash bin. There was no reason to keep that; there was no time to be sentimental even if he wanted to be; the vice president’s office was waiting for him.
As he packed, he kept an eye on a closed-circuit security television where he watched Davis and Namaguchi in the prison cell. She played right into my hands! he thought. True, he hadn’t been sure she’d have enough grit to murder Everett, but when he convinced Ruby to give her the knife, he thought he’d made it simple enough. It surprised him a little that it didn’t play out as he had imagined, but it didn’t matter to him; Everett was dead, and his hands were clean. That was the goal. He smiled to himself at how easy it had been to convince Davis he was interested in having a relationship with her. He would have; maybe that’s why the part was so easy to play. But that’s not what the ultimate goal was. He hadn’t disclosed that he wanted to be president in the gymnasium because it wouldn’t have served him. But, of course, he wanted to be president, and now the pathway was clear. Just to kill that old goat, Namaguchi, now, Brookshire thought, feeling very proud of how his plan came together. It all came together beautifully!
He turned off the security screen and turned toward his computer. Taking one last look at his email, he noticed the screen glitched a little bit. He slapped the side of it and decided he didn’t care if it broke or not; it wasn’t his problem anymore. Brookshire resolved he would have someone come and get his property box tomorrow for him. I needn’t carry boxes anymore, he thought.
As Brookshire walked outside, he took a moment before departing to stretch his back and congratulate himself one more time. He looked up at the full moon, pale behind gauzy clouds and hanging large and heavy in the sky. He thought it looked like a big white plum, ripe for his picking.
The gears turned slowly in Brookshire’s head as if they were rusty and covered in a thick sludge. Finally, he realized, Ringo! The computer glitch! He’s hacking into my computer! Brookshire rushed back into his office and sat at his desk. He checked over his emails and saw in the sent files emails delivered to all the newly formed senate and congress members and the newspaper created to inform the public. The email was seemingly from him. Opening the email on top, he saw it was a confession—his confession—to organizing President Everett’s assassination and plans to assassinate Namaguchi and Davis next. His confession cited his immense guilt
