Anthony DeCosmo - Parallels

"As transformation occurs it is making much in radiation."

Evan suppressed a natural instinct to step away from the machine at the mention of 'radiation.' Meanwhile, Omar continued with the tour.

"And here you can be seeing the end result."

Technicians pulled bins from a compartment. Those bins carried a pale yellow liquid from the machine that emitted a fruity bouquet.

Evan acted like a kid on Christmas morning, "Absolutely wonderful! And exactly what is it you have produced today?"

Omar answered, "This substance is being Undecylenic Acid."

Evan seized the moment and suggested to Omar and the press, "No doubt a powerful weapon for use against hostiles such as Proto-Masses and Crawling Tube Worms!"

Omar corrected, "Actually, undecylenic acid is an ingredient in anti-fungal applications."

Evan’s smile faded a hair.

Hutch's eyes widened and he said, "Oh, yeah, like for athletes foot and jock itch."

"Well, I, um, see," Evan stumbled, but not very far.

With the demonstration complete, the half-dozen reporters shot questions from below the raised platform.

"Senator Godfrey, I see you’re touring this facility with Mr. Hutch. Does that mean you’re endorsing the idea of a laborer’s guild?"

Evan felt Hutch’s eyes and ears await his response.

"We are in a new world but there are some ideas from the old that are still applicable. I support Jim and his efforts to organize industrial workers, cargo handlers, and transportation drivers. I think the result will be a better work force and an improved quality of life."

Flash bulbs popped as Evan turned and shook Jim’s grateful hand.

Another question followed, "Senator, your colleagues appear ready to elect you President of the Senate later this week. How do you react to the news and do you worry that your position on the Emperor's advisory panel would then create a conflict of interest?"

Evan nodded as he heard the question, rubbed his chin as if contemplating deep thoughts, then responded, "First, let me say that I am honored my colleagues are considering me for President. Second, I believe my constituents know that my interests are never conflicted."

It is possible that those were the truest words Evan Godfrey ever spoke…

…Evan relaxed in his hotel room at the Atlanta Hilton and Towers, the only hotel in town operating in a manner even vaguely resembling the pre-Armageddon world. No maids, of course, and no sheets or swimming pool or bar. But he did have a penthouse view of Atlanta

The afternoon sun glittered through the windows while Godfrey hovered over a laptop computer putting the finishing touches on a speech he was to give at the train station that evening. It was all a part of his strategy to document every step in his journey from Washington, to New Winnabow, to Atlanta, and then back to Washington.

He billed it as a pilgrimage into the hearts and lives of the citizens of The Empire; a chance to show his credentials as a man of the people.

It kicked off with laying a wreath at the memorial in New Winnabow, then a show of gratitude to the garrison at Columbia, South Carolina. He spent three hours fishing off the coast of Savannah because fishermen deserved recognition for their work. On a farm he sheered sheep because people were cold up north that winter.

Then came Atlanta and Jim Hutch.

Godfrey saw Hutch as a disgusting, brute of a man. But that man was on the cutting edge of a new labor movement and, most likely, the cutting edge of the rebirth of organized crime.

The matter-maker had been a nice backdrop, the presence of Omar Nehru a means of impressing Hutch with Evan’s own connections; a reminder that he could build bridges.

Next he would go to the train station to recognize the challenges the railway workers faced; they had the third most dangerous civilian job in The Empire, you know.

"Ah, that’s it," a great line came to mind and he typed frantically on the keyboard but an interruption came in the form of a ringing phone.

He grumbled and answered, "This is Evan Godfrey."

"Is it really? Not the Evan Godfrey who has been all over the news. Did you know that on NBN you got more coverage than the Ohio front? Of course you know that."

The phone connection carried over a combination of hard lines and old cell towers but despite the static and distance, Evan recognized the voice.

"Hello, officer Roos. How are you this afternoon?"

Ray Roos, one of Dante Jones’ lieutenants in Internal Security and the top I.S. officer at the Imperial mansion. He had risen in the ranks without Trevor or Dante or anyone else realizing that Roos served as a conduit for information to Evan Godfrey. Information that had helped Evan make the right moves, the right decisions, and say the right words in advancing his interests.

If Ray took the time and hassle of making the necessary connections to reach Evan Godfrey in Atlanta it must be important. Evan listened close because Ray's words usually only framed the message.

"I am doing very well, thank you for asking, Senator. You’ll have to excuse the interruption. I figure you’ve got a lot to be doing down there."

Godfrey responded, "As a Senator it’s important that I stay visible. The people have to know that we’re getting things done."

Evan carried the phone over to the window. It was a nice day outside, even if overcast. The cityscape of Atlanta presented a mixture of human buildings and the remains of Hivvan structures. Even after more than a year, workers still demolished the walls, slave pens, and gun emplacements left behind by those invading lizards. Like all worthy projects, sanitizing Atlanta took time. Evan could appreciate that: time and patience to tear down the old and build the new.

Ray continued, "It’s all over the news that you’re going to be elected President of the Senate. Wow, that is something else, Mr. Godfrey. A pretty big achievement for you."

"Well, let’s not count our chickens, Ray."

"Oh, now, you know me, Mr. Godfrey. I usually don’t go counting those chickens until they’re hatched. That way you don’t end up with egg on your face, don’t you think?"

"Very true. Very true indeed."

"But Senator, it just really seems like this whole President-elect thing is going to happen. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say it’s in the bag. Still, I’m willing to wait for the election before I start sending my congratulations."

"I can appreciate that."

"Yes, Sir, being President of the Senate, that would be a heck of an accomplishment. So big, you would expect that as soon as they voted you in you should expect a phone call-sorta like this one-a phone call of congratulations from the Emperor himself, wouldn’t you think?"

Evan played the game, regardless of how it grated on him. For some reason, Ray Roos seemed to be the one man he had met who could see clearly through his political double speak. The one man capable of out-maneuvering him. Thankfully, Ray stood in his corner.

"Yes. I suppose I should expect a call of congratulations from the Emperor, should I be elected President of the Senate."

"Yep. I’d think so. Why, I can’t think of a good reason why the Emperor wouldn’t jump on that phone right away and give you a call to offer up a nice attaboy. Could you think of a good reason, Mr. Godfrey? I mean, is there any reason at all as to why the Emperor might not go calling you-or might not be able to call you-on your big day?"

Evan stood in his hotel room and gazed out the window.

"No, Ray, I can’t think of a good reason at all."

The old freight train station on Main Street in Washington Court House had long ago been converted into a live-stock feed factory. As was the case so often, Armageddon made something old new again.