“All the big news networks. As soon as you get that video on a disk for me and a dropbox link I can share, I’m going to send electronic copies to everyone I can think of. They can’t suppress it if it goes viral.”
“If you want help with that too, sir…?”
“Brenda, you’re a godsend,” he told her.
“Sir, you’ve got blood on your shirt…”
“Oh, and I’m going to need the state police up here as well. I have to make a statement and plan for a public statement and…”
“Just let me get your files burned to a disk, give me two minutes and you just tell me who you want to get what, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks,” he said, grabbing her Rolodex anyway.
Stepping over General Rodgers’ corpse and sitting at his desk, he dialed up the local news network. He used his passphrase to let them know they were talking to the real him and not some pranksters, and then told his story. He asked for an email address he could send a dropbox link to, so they could download the files for themselves. They gave it to him, promising to wait for the link.
A Dropbox notification dinged, and he saw it was the first of the files being synched with his computer. He made the directory shareable by link, with rights to copy only and started firing it off. Using the email addresses Brenda had for the larger media outlets, he started doing the same.
“Sir, your disk,” she said, walking in, not bothering to knock, but then stopped, seeing the ruin of a man on the carpet. “Um… I’ll just put it here,” she said, setting the disk on a bookshelf nearest the door.
“That’s fine,” Governor Christian said, handing her the Rolodex. “Can you make this a torrent thingy?”
“A torrent? Yes sir,” she told him, “but it’s blocked from the capital’s networks.”
“Do you know a way around that?” he asked her.
“I do,” she said with a grin. “Permission to break the rules, sir?”
“Permission granted. We’re under a state of emergency, after all.”
Governor Tom Christian let her get to work. He knew life was about to get crazy. If he survived the week, he would count himself lucky. He pulled his cell phone out and texted one word to his wife. RUN. She knew what to do, they had anticipated this, but had prayed it wouldn’t happen. This signal would send her into action, one they had planned for. She was going to bug out to friends on the rez in Oklahoma. He just prayed he could join them there when the uproar died down.
Five
Luis was a happy man. Not only did his aquaponics system work well, a little too well. News had spread that he had freshly grown greenhouse greens. Some of what was coming to the market was starting to go out of season without greenhouses and season extenders. Luis’s crops? They were growing like gangbusters. He knew that the lack of sunlight would soon slow things down, but he was starting plugs with cool weather crops that would grow in lower light situations and which liked the cooler temperatures.
He was also letting some of his crops go to seed, so he could experiment with seed saving and harvesting, so this could truly be a self-sustaining enterprise. He was working on his spinach plants, almost twenty of them, when Angel and Harry came in to visit.
“Mister Luis!” Harry said running up, his arms out.
Luis gave him a quick one-armed hug, and then patted the wheeled bench he’d made for sliding up and down between the rows of plants.
“Hey little man, what brings you to the greenhouse today?”
“I wanted to come and say hi, and to ask you why the pond isn’t all cloudy anymore?”
“We’re pumping the water up the hill, to feed the plants. The plants eat the nutrients in the waters. We’re hoping it’ll pull some of the sediment out of the water to feed our veggies.”
“Does that mean the catfishing will be better, or worse?” Harry asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“That’s what’s been bugging him,” Angel told him, “but he hasn’t once turned down his greens at supper.”
“It shouldn’t hurt the fishing, unless they aren’t used to seeing your line and bobber so clearly,” Luis told him. “I think that we may have to start feeding the catfish some, off and on. I want to make this system bigger, and we only have a two-acre pond.”
“Will it hurt the fish if you make their water too clean?” Harry asked.
“No, actually it’ll help them. If the water is better, there can be more fish, more crawfish. We can also start hanging the guts of pigs in a bucket over the pond, with some holes cut in it so flies and larva can feed the fish.”
“Ok, now that’s kind of gross.” Angel didn’t look amused.
“Or we could just dump the guts right into the pond for the fish to eat?” Luis asked.
“No, no. Let’s let them eat the maggots,” Angel said, fanning herself. “I’m not sure I’m ready for… you know.”
“Si,” he said quickly. “Now, do you know where that extra automatic feeder is in the equipment barn?” Luis asked Harry.
“I do,” he told him. “It is in the back corner, but Dad says something is broke on it, and it only spits stuff out one way.”
“And that is why I think it would be a perfect feeder for the fish. We have it spit the food at the water. I want to expand the greenhouse operations to the next one over. Would you like to help me?”
“I think we all do,” Angelica told him. “How many of us would it take?”
“I think, maybe at least four, but I’ve done it with that many already once before.”
“And all of you worked together before,” Angelica said.
“Si,” admitted Luis. “I think four to six of us could have it done in an hour or less.”
“Why would clearer
