Because he’s a fag, said Ricky. Steve laughed.
It’s guy stuff, said Bryan. We forget we have a girl here. We tried to get a bunch to come but you’re the only one who said yes–
You wanted to have a party?
We were gonna play spin the bottle. She felt her ears get hot again. Have you ever fucked before, said Ricky.
What?
Have you ever fucked before? It’s OK if you haven’t.
I haven’t.
Well what about now?
She felt like she’d stood up too fast. The windows wouldn’t stay straight. She looked for Bryan. He was next to her but it took a long time to find him. He was biting his lip.
I can’t.
It’s all right, we won’t tell. The girls in our class do it. Even Stacey, she’s got that college boyfriend. Plus the horses. Steve laughed.
I can’t, I have to go–
Where are you gonna go? We’ll get you home. Relax–
Bryan will you please take me home. I can’t, he said.
Don’t worry honey, said Ricky. It’s fine– you need another beer? I have half left.
I have to go back–
Why did we come all the way out here then. She couldn’t talk, and he said: answer me.
What?
Why did we come here and spend the whole day with you? Are you wasting my time?
No–
Are you gonna cry? Are you a baby?
No–
Why can’t you just be cool then, he said.
Bryan went last. He wore after shave on his neck even though you could have counted his beard hairs. His eyes looked sad at first. Then he made a face like he was concentrating on a math problem. Then a sound like he was hurt, and his eyes looked like nobody was in there. An old nail was biting into her hand. Her dad would make a big deal about getting a tetanus shot.
She had to bike back home. The seat was wet and she couldn’t stay on the road. When she got there she was crying. Her mother was out beating rugs with a broom and said oh My God what’s wrong. And she just said I don’t want to tell, I don’t want to tell.
Her mother didn’t push it. Just held her hand. At school they started calling her Easy Marcy. It was her birthday. She was thirteen.
What Can You Do
Hello, FBI.
Yes, I’d like to report a… a threat, it’s a threat to seize nuclear weapons–
I’m sorry can you repeat that sir?
Yes, I am aware of a terrorist– it’s… they’re trying to get nuclear weapons, they’re going to–
Can I get your name please sir?
I’d rather not say.
He was on a phone he bought at 7-11. Where he couldn’t not notice the Evian rack. $35 but had full smartphone functionality. Barely a signal. Walking fast down the sidewalk and it felt like he had no knees. Vagrants sitting in zipped open pup tent doors stared him down with eyes like opossums. One looked up meaningfully as he passed. Screamed: I’m the Polish Prince of Penis.
This tipline is 100% confidential, sir.
It’s fucking Ben Dover, OK? Listen, ISIS is trying to get American nukes, they’re going to blow up the world–
What you’re telling me sir, is that ISIS would like to have nuclear weapons. Sir, the Bureau has been aware of that–
No it’s a specific plan, they have– they use a woman in the Philippines… she gives you a backrub and makes you fall in love with her, and then–
Are you referring to the MILF, sir?
No, she’s 22–
The Moro Islamic Liberation front, sir
No it’s Abu, fucking– ISIS is using marketing data to get nukes, I gave it to them-
You’re involved in this yourself sir?
No, I– I gave them data but I didn’t know what it was for, I swear.
What sort of data?
It’s, they– it’s credit card purchases of individuals, for, it’s used for refining branded content–
And this… is going to be employed for hostile purposes?
They’re going to blackmail people with it.
All right. It sounds like this is a problem related to wire transfers, is that correct?
What?
It sounds like this is a problem related to wire transfers and/or interstate commerce.
I mean I guess they have to wire money–
OK great sir, it’ll be just one moment.
Then he was on hold.
He was on Tinder. And what do you do, she asked.
He worked in a call center. People reported national security threats. Their caller ID appeared on his monitor. He typed notes. When they finished he selected an onscreen button.
The system had three tiers. Green was credible threat. Yellow was potential threat. Red was non-credible. Drunk women reporting their boyfriends for cheating. Mentally ill or mentally challenged callers. The Fuck You Button, they called it. It has to do with counterterrorism, he said. The phone was ringing.
What exactly, she said, and he said Homeland Security, then picked up the phone and said it again.
After 9/11 the public-facing counterterrorism efforts of various agencies had merged under the rubric of the Department of Homeland Security. DHS had rerouted tiplines for the CIA and NSA, and FBI liked to transfer their cranks in too. But mostly it was the US Post Office, Office of the Inspector General. Elderly callers. Someone tampering with their mailbox. Someone living in their mailbox. The mailbox was a demon. Oh so you’re like James Bond, she said.
The phone said hello? He said yes, Homeland Security again while he typed
…Kind of…
with his thumbs. He’d thought of himself more like Felix Leiter when he pursued a career in federal law enforcement. But she wouldn’t know it. James Bond was a pathetic plea for relevance from the British, who were more like George Smiley. Or not even. One of his other crusty colleagues. Whichever one was gay. Homeland Security?
How can I help you sir.
Is this a different guy?
Yes sir, it looks like you’ve been transferred here from FBI?
Jesus Christ, OK– I just need to report this to somebody.
If this an emergency please hang up and dial 911 for your local poli–
Who is this?
This is the Department of Homeland Security, sir. Mouse hovering over red. Mentally challenged caller.
Listen I need to report a serious nuclear threat. OK, he said. That sounds hot, she said. Go on.
Approximately one mile south of the Palawan Seashore Resort in a mangrove forest there’s a Filipino ISIS operation. They’re using a girl to get lonely guys to give them information on military officials. They’re coordinating with Somali terrorists based in California to get access to American nuclear weapons. They’re going to reroute them to attack major population centers. I know this because I gave them consumer credit card data tracked at the individual level–
You were involved in this, sir? he said, and typed Haha it’s not that sexy. Then erased it, not wanting to say any variant of sex too early.
I don’t want to talk about my involvement, said the crank on the phone. I need you to know that there is going to be a blackmail effort against the… against high ranking nuclear security officials.
This was credible. A shell company run by the Chinese government had recently purchased Grindr. Grindr was a smartphone app to help men have raw anal sex in toilet stalls. Idea being that the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and/or a Federal Reserve Board Member liked to meet in mall bathrooms with 18 year old black boys. Not check ID. The idea for Tinder had been stolen from Grindr. It didn’t work, because of women. U still there, she said. I’m getting bored