Perhaps a more tragic recognition of reality took place when it became clear to me that the war was doing far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population. We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. So we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools. So we watch them in brutal solidarity burning the huts of a poor village, but we realize that they would hardly live on the same block in Chicago. I could not be silent in the face of such cruel manipulation of the poor.
Cora understood the point; other black men and women understood as well. Was it worth going to war, taking up arms to fight Hitler, only to return to second-class citizenship in the United States? Already, black unions were frantically trying to find a position… in the face of increasing radicalism by some of their younger members.
A chime at the door interrupted her musings. She glanced up at the camera overseeing the main door and felt her blood run cold; the two men were famous and infamous, particularly on the Internet. John Edgar Hoover and Clyde Tolson; FBI senior officers, best friends… and supposed lovers.
“Come in,” she said politely, and buzzed them though. Tolson had been scowling at the one-way glass; Hoover had been more thoughtful. Hoover’s eyes glinted with anger at her computer – she’d minimised the incriminating websites – and Tolson’s eyes glinted angrily at her. Despite her revealing dress, quite subdued by the standards of 2015, neither man ogled her.
“We’re here to see your boss,” Hoover said. There was little charm in his voice; he’d had a rough eight months. “Please inform him that we are here.”
Cora felt a flicker of wry amusement; clearly both men would have been happier barging through the door and catching Oliver doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. However… Oliver was a power in Washington, and even the Director of the FBI had limits.
“Mr Oliver,” she said, manoeuvring so that both men caught a glimpse of her cleavage, “your two o’clock is here to see you.”
Neither man reacted to the top of her breasts, not even a hidden leer. They did scowl in unison at being referred to by a time; they perhaps found it annoying. Oliver’s voice, welcoming both men, was more welcome; they straightened up. They’ve come to beg favours, she thought, and smiled at them.
“You may enter, gentlemen,” she said, and hid her reaction as Tolson glared at her. “Right through that door.”
Hoover tipped his hat to her and entered through the door. Tolson followed him and the door clicked shut. Acting with as much speed as she could, Cora activated some of the security systems on the computer, storing information in a private cache before wiping all evidence of illegal websites. After all, the security staff had reported an FBI car that was packed with agents, who were clearly packing heat.
Jim Oliver had been reading the news too, in his case the New York Times. As partial compensation for the monies he’d expanded on having the paper sued for its errors over Goddard’s theories, he’d been given a free lifetime subscription. The front page story was more remarkable than the one two pages ago, in which the New York Times had managed to use a confusing mixture of phases to imply that the New York Times had never questioned the use of a rocket for space travel.
NEW OUTRAGES IN SOUTH, the first story ran, and he read on grimly. A sheriff had blamed the poor treatment of his wife – the New York Times didn’t quite speculate that it had been rape – on the local black community, and arrested nearly a dozen known ‘trouble-makers.’ The resulting unrest, when local blacks had fired back at the posse that had lynching in mind, had seriously damaged the town… and left both sides badly injured.
Oliver shook his head. The New York Times blamed everything on Communist subversives, who were clearly trying to undermine the American war effort. Southern politicians were talking about calling out the National Guard, but many of the Guard regiments had been earmarked for training with the new weapons and service against Germany. On different notes, the New York Times noted that the FBI had blamed the growth of this ‘subversive conspiracy’ on the Internet, and that it would be seeking legislation to have the Internet shut down.
Oliver chuckled. The ‘laptops for all’ program had been designed to defeat the evil manipulations of governments that outdid even Hitler in sheer bloody-mindedness; they had lacked any clear plan beyond holding power as long as they could. Even J Edgar Hoover wasn’t a match for the forces of unleashed social change…
“Mr Oliver, your two o’clock is here to see you,” Cora said. Oliver smiled; speak of the devil.
“Send them in, Cora,” he said. He pasted a smile on his face, ones that had fooled better cops than Hoover and considered; did Hoover know about his work for the Germans? For a long moment, he considered using the defences in the room, and then changed his mind. Hoover might have something else in mind.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Hoover said, taking the chair that Oliver waved him to and taking off his Stetson Hat. His companion, Clyde Tolson, stood behind Hoover rather than take the other chair; Oliver studied them with interest. He didn’t know much about homosexuals, but the men weren’t reacting like long-term lovers.
“I’m always willing to cooperate with the forces of law and order,” he said, and relaxed. If they’d known about his other activities, they would have kicked down the door and taken him off for trial. Or tried to; even Cora didn’t know the full extent of the surprises buried within the building. Still… what sources did the FBI of 1941 have in 2015 Britain?
“It’s always nice to meet a patriot,” Hoover said wryly. “Particularly someone who seems to have chosen to become an American citizen of his own free will.”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He was still a British citizen, at least according to his papers. He hadn’t applied for American citizenship at all. His mind raced, considering the possibilities. What was Hoover up to?
“I meant a patriot to Britain,” Hoover continued. His companion smirked. “You’ve done great service for your country.”
“I do try,” Oliver said. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
“I have a problem,” Hoover said, abandoning the attempt to be pleasant. “As you know, the sales of… computers with Internet access are growing constantly, mainly from your computer. I have reason to be aware that subversives are using the computers to communicate, therefore avoiding any possibility of interception. Their messages… include many lies about American patriots, striving to demoralise us for the coming struggle when communism seeks to take over the world.”
Including you? Oliver thought. He almost laughed; even if Hoover had had his way, it would have been impossible to recover all the laptops and desktop machines. “I have yet to see any evidence of subversion,” he said carefully. Hoover waved a hand at the copy of the New York Times on the desk. “That… was what happens when you try to push Americans too far.”