Glenn Beck - The Overton Window

This was one of the topics of light conversation in the wee hours of that first night when he and Molly had met. Noah had been so fascinated by the woman that he hadn’t stopped to wonder why she seemed to know so much about the art of deception.

Don’t be afraid, she’d said; that’s the key, no matter how bad it gets. If locked in a car that’s speeding toward a gap in the bridge and it’s clearly too late to stop, most people would still waste their last mortal seconds stepping on the brakes. But what you really want to do is say a little prayer, and then floor it. If you’re going down anyway, go all in, go down with courage-because hey, there’s always that one slim chance that you’ll make it to the other side.

From behind her Noah saw Molly’s head tilt slightly, and this movement was accompanied by a subtle hip shift. There was a convex security mirror on a bracket above the metal detector, and in that reflection he saw a patient but serious expression on her face that meant, You didn’t really just say what I think I heard, did you?

The officer appeared unfazed.

“Would you take off your sunglasses for me, please,” he said.

That’s all, folks. Curtains, checkmate, game over.

Noah hoped only that his upcoming visit to prison would be more enjoyable than his first. He’d already begun to gauge the running distance to the door when Molly looked back at him. She appeared to be perfectly serene, and she mouthed something to him. He wasn’t much of a lip reader and it took his panic-stricken mind a few seconds to recognize her message. It had been the short phrase that’s always at the top of any good list of famous last words.

Watch this.

She turned to the officer, pulled back her hood and let it settle onto her shoulders, removed the baseball cap and let it fall to the floor at her feet, and then slow and sure, began to walk toward him.

“The Force is strong with this one,” Molly said, as calm and smooth as a Jedi master. Her accent was gone, and her voice was just breathy enough to obscure any other identifying qualities of the real McCoy.

The TSA man’s cheeks began to redden slightly. A power shift was under way, and as Noah had learned firsthand, when this girl turned it on you never knew what was about to hit you.

She continued nearer, put a finger to the frames and lowered her sunglasses partway down her nose, tipping her chin so she could look at the officer directly, eye to eye, just over the top of the darkened lenses. As she stopped barely a foot away she subtly passed an open hand between their faces, and spoke again.

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” Molly said. After waiting a moment she gave him a little nod, as though it had come time in their close-up scene for his own line of dialogue.

There was an eternal pause, and then before his eyes Noah saw this big, intimidating young man begin his grinning transformation from the TSA’s most vigilant watchdog into Natalie Portman’s biggest fan.

“These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.” The officer repeated her words, just as that spellbound storm trooper had said them at the Imperial checkpoint in Episode 4.

After holding his rapt gaze for a few more seconds Molly pulled out the secret weapon more fearsome than any light-saber-that sweet, wicked smile that made your knees feel like they could bend in all directions. She slipped the pen from his pocket protector, clicked it, took the hand that still held her necklace, and autographed his palm with an artful flourish.

“Bravo!” Kyle said, and his light applause was picked up by all the other employees who had turned their attention that way. That put a button at the end of the crisis; before any further delay could threaten his schedule he bustled around and retrieved her duffel bag, along with her cap, phone, and jewelry. Then with a cheerful, over-the-shoulder “Thank you, everyone,” he gathered his clients back under his wing and hurried them to the exit door.

They were to board the plane from the flight crew’s side stairway out on the tarmac. When they got outside Noah motioned to Kyle that he needed just a minute with his girl. Their escort nodded and moved off to a discreet distance, pausing only to tap the face of his watch as a reminder to be quick before he turned away to wait.

“How did I do?” Molly asked, obviously fully aware of exactly how she’d done.

“You quoted two different male characters from the wrong trilogy, but other than that, you nailed it.”

“I wrote a midterm paper on the first two movies in college. Never saw any of the others.”

“Film class?”

“Political science.”

He had to wait for a noisy vehicle to pass before he could speak again.

“I need to ask you something,” Noah said.

“Sure.” It seemed she could see that he’d become more somber.

“When we were there in Times Square, when we kissed that time…”

She took off the sunglasses and hooked them on her pocket, moved a little closer to him, brushed a windblown lock of hair from his eyes. “I remember.”

“Is that when you pickpocketed my BlackBerry?”

Molly smiled, and pulled him willingly into her embrace. It was no real surprise, but this kiss was every bit as stirring as that first one had been, and as he realized then for certain, as good as every single one would be thereafter.

She stood back a step, her face as innocent as a newborn lamb, and held up his wallet between them.

“I love you,” Noah said.

Molly looked up at him with all the courageous resolve of the doomed Han Solo at the end of The Empire Strikes Back.

“I know,” she replied.

By the time the jet reached its cruising altitude Molly had fallen sound asleep in his arms. They had the entire row to themselves and the crew had taken excellent care of them so far. Now it was quiet, and in the remains of this day a little peace and stillness were more than welcome.

Molly had taken only one thing from her bag to keep with her during the four-hour flight. He recognized the book as the hand-bound journal she’d shown him back in her apartment downtown.

It would be nice to have something to read, he thought, and after a brief consideration he decided that she wouldn’t be likely to object if he took a look through her little book as she slept.

Folded just inside the front cover he found the pencil drawing that had been pinned to her bedroom wall, that idyllic sketch of her someday cabin in the woods.

On the next page was the beginning of the texts she’d been given by the Founders’ Keepers, that portion of the writings from early American history she was meant to preserve and memorize on their behalf.

Thomas Jefferson

I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.

What followed didn’t really seem to comprise the most famous or succinct of Jefferson’s writings. Rather, it was as though a great deal of his written legacy, maybe all of it, had been distributed among quite a number of people, and Molly’s was only a small, random part placed in her care. Accordingly, the first section consisted of Jefferson’s Second Inaugural Address. Noah read through a portion of it.

I fear not that any motives of interest may lead me astray; I am sensible of no passion which could seduce me knowingly from the path of justice, but the weaknesses of human nature and the limits of my own understanding will produce errors of judgment sometimes injurious to your interests.

I shall need, therefore, all the indulgence which I have heretofore experienced from my constituents; the want of it will certainly not lessen with increasing years.

What struck Noah as he read these words was a fundamental difference in tone from the political discourse of later times. Here was one of the founders of the nation, maybe the greatest thinker among them, and yet he spoke with a quality that was so rare today as to be almost extinct among modern public servants. It was a profound humility, as though nothing were more important to express than the honor he felt in being chosen again as a guardian of the people’s precious liberties.