“No, I never thought that.”
“They said you were a sexual deviant. They had proof. They made me swear again and again I would make sure you lived a clean and moral life. That’s what I’m going to do. From now on, we’re going to be a normal family.” She stalked out of the room. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor of the foyer as she crossed to the stairs.
Ruppert stared at the blank video wall, which he’d turned off, leaving it like a slab of polished obsidian in the middle of the room. He could see his own dark reflection looking back at him.
It wasn’t just the constant surveillance and the secret laws and the powerful agencies, he thought. It wasn’t just the state church, or the crushing weight of propaganda generated through every available medium, though all these were important tools. Ultimately their power was to colonize individual relationships, to use ideology to isolate those who questioned the state of the world from their own families and friends. If you wanted any kind of intimacy or any kind of success in life, you had to play along. If you pretended to believe a thing long enough, eventually it just became easier to go ahead and believe the thing was true, especially when every mechanism of social and economic reward depended on you adhering to the prescribed beliefs.
“You guys really know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he said to his dark reflection. The reflection stared back at him, unblinking, and said nothing.
THIRTEEN
At the GlobeNet studio on Monday, a makeup girl painted over the bruises on Ruppert’s face and the injuries to his hands, then sprayed on a fake tan. One of the producers hung a plastic lei around Ruppert’s neck and told him they were going to “ad-lib” some chatter about Ruppert’s recent vacation. Ad-libbing meant they would read some scripted informal chatter, the type that reassured the audience that GlobeNet reporters were just regular folks like them.
When he’d settled in between Amanda Greene and the new, younger, hipper sports reporter, he waited for the theme music to pass and then read: “Good evening and welcome to GlobeNet-L.A.’s nightly news. I’m Daniel Ruppert, returning from a fantastic week on St. Lucia.” This confused him-wasn’t the lei associated with Hawaii rather than the Caribbean? Would the audience bother to notice?
“Looks like somebody wishes they were still on vacation.” Amanda delivered the line as if it were perfectly spontaneous. Following the stage direction floating before him in giant holographic letters, Ruppert pretended to notice he was wearing the lei.
“Oops!” Ruppert said, holding up the plastic flowers with a finger. “I guess I had such a good time I forgot I was coming back to work!”
“I think we all feel that way on Mondays, Daniel,” Amanda said.
“That’s right, Amanda.” Ruppert forced his charming newsguy smile. “Well, big news from the mayor’s office: This year’s Fourth of July parade is going to be bigger than ever, including tanks driven by the brave men and women at Fort Irwin and a spectacular air display courtesy of the fine boys at Los Angeles Air Force Base. Ten thousand flags will hang along Sunset Boulevard to celebrate.” Video of workers hanging flags and bunting played as he spoke. “Police are promising to sweep up the homeless and the drug addicts to make the parade safe for good citizens…”
After the taping, a notice appeared on the green desk in front of Ruppert summoning him to George Baldwin’s office. He trudged down the wide corridor, keeping his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. The Terror agent’s office was at the end of the hall, walled with black glass where most offices had clear windows. His body seemed to grow heavier with each step. Could they be displeased with him already?
As Ruppert drew near the closed glass door, a glowing female face emerged from the black glass as if swimming up from deep waters-Baldwin’s digital assistant.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Ruppert,” she said.
“I had a notice to see George,” he told her.
“One moment please.” The beautiful face sank back into the darkness, then returned a few seconds later. “Please come in. Mr. Baldwin is ready for you.” The glass door slid aside.
From inside Baldwin’s office, you could see the hallway clearly through the black glass. The remainder of Baldwin’s walls were video panels. Images of paintings floated on them now-Baldwin appeared to have a strong affinity for the work of Hieronymus Bosch. The Department of Terror seal dominated the entire wall behind Baldwin’s desk, and its soaring silver eagle appeared six feet tall. Ruppert shivered at the sight of it.
Baldwin stood, all smiles, and shook Ruppert’s hand, grasping it just a little too hard. Ruppert tried not to look at the silver skull pin on the lapel of Baldwin’s black coat, remembering how the gleaming skulls had snapped at him in cyberspace. Baldwin was an imposing presence, taller and broader and no doubt stronger than Ruppert.
“Daniel!” Baldwin said, with a cheerful tone that implied they were old water-cooler buddies, though they’d rarely spoken. “Great to have you back. Have a seat.”
Ruppert did as he was told, facing the Terror man across a broad expanse of black desk.
“Can I order you anything?” Baldwin asked. “Water? Coffee?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Ruppert’s knees were trembling. The wounds in his hands, now invisible under concealer, started to ache.
“I was so happy to hear from my director that you’re working with us now. I know there were some suspicions-you have to be suspicious, in a time of war-but I told them, no, not Daniel Ruppert. He’s a good, state-fearing man, a real patriot. He’ll be happy to help out. I said I’ve worked with this guy, I’ve studied him, and I think he will do anything his country asks.” Baldwin’s large hand slapped the glossy black desktop at the word “studied,” and Ruppert jumped a little in his seat.
“I appreciate it, Mr. Baldwin-”
“George.”
“George,” Ruppert said. “We all have to do our part to support our brave men and women in uniform.”
“That’s absolutely right. We live in dangerous times, Daniel. Enemies without and enemies within. The role of my organization is, as you know, to search out the enemies within. Now you have your part to play. I want you to know I’m here if you need any support on this.”
“Thank you…George. I appreciate it. I’m not entirely sure why I was chosen for this task-though of course I’m happy to help my country in any way I can.”
“Well, we didn’t do the choosing-I’d rather have kept you out of it, naturally, so you could focus on your work and family like a regular citizen. But they chose you, so now we have to play along.”
“Who are you saying chose me?”
“They. Them.” Baldwin waved a dismissive hand. “The enemies of the state.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s why you’re perfect for this, Daniel. You’re not meant to know very much about the situation, and you don’t. You’ll be able to play your role with great honesty.”
“You mean capturing the neo-Nazi guy.”
“Exactly right.” The graying, age-progressed image of Hollis Westerly appeared on one wall. The man had the glazed eyes of a corpse.
“I have to tell you,” Baldwin said, “This is a dangerous job. You’ll be exposed to all kinds of enemy propaganda. I’m sure you can hold up, but I want you to be warned.”
“I would like to know a little more about who this guy is, why you need me to-”
“No need for that. The op requires you to be unaware. You’ll act much more naturally that way.”
“Okay.”
“I know it’s difficult to understand. You just play along with whatever they offer you, and you’ll be fine. Now, have you attempted to make contact yet?”
“Not exactly. I was still recovering from-from my vacation, over the weekend.”
“Probably a smart choice. We need you at the top of your game. I’d suggest you wait another day or two, in fact, but no longer than that. We need to move while this is hot.”