John Barnes - Daybreak Zero

When they could hear again, Cameron said, apologetically, “This might take some time. Were they like this when you came in last night?”

Graham raised an eyebrow, and smirked. “It was terrifying, Cam. There were thousands of them out there chanting for ‘a precisely calculated, carefully designed, culturally nuanced mixture of incremental reform and necessary innovation.’ Must’ve taken them ages to learn to chant that whole phrase in unison.”

Cam’s small, wincing smile was about as close to an outright guffaw as he would ever manage. “Trust a bureaucrat to ask a dumb question, and get a flip answer from a professor.”

“Touché. It’s going to be a different world, isn’t it? Look at the way Grayson speaks, all that arm pumping and flying hands, like an old-time whistle-stop orator.” His hand closed around Allie’s. “I guess I’ll have to learn to do that too.”

When the reverend and the general had been torn from their adoring publics, James directed the TNG and PCG delegations to the row of carriages and buggies to be taken to Johanna’s What There Is, which Heather had reserved for a special breakfast. Once there, James moved quietly to a corner and concentrated on his plate, which might be the last chance to get food in for the rest of the day, given how busy life was about to become. Johanna paused beside him with a tray of eggs and trout, murmuring, “All clear upstairs as vetted by Heather.”

James finished the last bite just as Cameron announced, “You know, I don’t really feel the need to go to our rooms first. I slept like a brick on the plane and I feel pretty fresh. We had discussed holding the opening meeting this afternoon, if everyone was feeling up to it, but I was just thinking, why don’t we do it now and have time for some real work this afternoon?”

“Well,” Heather said, “it would take some time to move you all over there in buggies and carriages—”

“Isn’t there a meeting room here? I thought there was, the last time I was here.”

“This seems like a great idea to me,” Graham said. “I was wondering what I would be doing with myself till this afternoon.” He appeared to be completely unaware of Allie trying to hit his instep with her heel, except that his foot kept dodging just enough so that if she were going to hit her target, she would have to make it clearly deliberate.

In less than five minutes Heather had reached a deal to keep Johanna’s What There Is through the lunch hour if necessary, and they were all trooping upstairs to the meeting room that she, Johanna, and a couple of trusted agents had spent the morning creating. Last in the procession came Johanna and two slightly awkward waiters—Roger Jackson and Debbie Mensche—carrying coffee and water urns.

As soon as everyone was seated, and the transcriptionist signaled ready , Heather said, “All right, here we go. For the record: I am Heather O’Grainne and I am convening the Third Intergovernmental Summit of 2025, with Graham Weisbrod, President of the Provisional Constitutional Government, and Cameron Nguyen-Peters, National Constitutional Continuity Coordinator of the Temporary National Government, and—”

She rattled through the list, alternating between the governments and laddering down in order of rank, finishing with “… invited guest Jenny Whilmire Grayson. We will commence with opening statements. Call it, Mister President.” The coin was in the air.

“Heads.”

“Heads. Graham, when you’re ready.”

Wonder if she bothered with a two-headed coin or just figured no one else would get a look? James thought, idly.

Graham Weisbrod pulled out a short, typed document and spread it before him, adjusting his reading glasses. Okay, definitely, he cut Allie out of the game to do this, James thought, because she looks like she’s trying not to let anyone know she just felt a snake go up her pant leg.

Weisbrod’s grandfatherly smile had been famous in the media for more than a decade before Daybreak; somehow, seeing it now, James had a flash of the old sense of security. Weisbrod said, “Please keep in mind that this is preliminary and that large parts of it are intended to start discussion about details and implementation; this is merely the beginning of overworking our staffs.” He raised the paper and said, “The Provisional Constitutional Government proposes to issue an overall order stipulating that all Federal employees are to accept, support, and obey the government to be elected in 2026. By all, I mean all. All the military forces down to privates, every postal carrier and every clerk filling out forms. Accept means if you believe the restored Constitutional government’s not legitimate, you quit your job before you say so. Support means you do everything in your power to make the restored Constitutional government succeed even if its policies are exactly what you don’t want. Obey means just that.” He looked around the room. “Of course, the truth is, we’re just telling people to do what they’re supposed to do anyway: obey the 2026 restoration government. Fundamentally what it says is that whether either side likes the election results in 2026 or not, what’s elected is what there is. No option for either of us to stay in business and try to negotiate a deal we like better. Vote the new government in, hand off to it, and be done with it.”

Cameron Nguyen-Peters nodded. “I believe I understand your proposal in broad outline, and of course we’ll want to go over the text of your order. May I ask what you’re hoping we’ll do in return?”

“Nothing,” Weisbrod said. “This isn’t a negotiating position. It’s the right thing to do, so I’m doing it unilaterally.”

“Oh.” Cam was genuinely smiling. “I thought that might be the case. In that case, we’ll need to issue a similar order, also unilaterally, so that we’re all in good faith here. If you don’t mind I’d like to look over the exact text of your order; perhaps we could order exactly the same one.”

Grayson sat bolt upright. “Sir, this really requires discussion.”

Allison Sok Banh’s expression was very like the general’s, but prettier. “Shouldn’t the staff explore some proposals—”

“Oh, exactly,” Cam said. “If you’ve got copies of your text, Graham, maybe we should adjourn for twenty minutes or so to read it?”

“Right here,” Graham said. “And I have copies for my side as well. Heather, do we have any kind of separate conference rooms available?”

James, from his corner, thought that the biggest problem in moving to separate caucuses might be maneuvering everyone around all the dropped jaws on the floor.

The door had barely closed before Whilmire asked, “Did you even intend to consult with us?” in a tone suitable for asking a waiter what’s in the food while hoping not to learn anything.

“We agreed,” Cam said, “that you would always be informed . And so you are. You know what’s being said as soon as it’s said. As for the policy Graham Weisbrod announced, if it’s as advertised, it simply declares that we are going to do our duty, as bound by our oaths—that is my oath and the general’s, Reverend. As a gesture to allay some very legitimate public concerns about whether the Constitution is going to stand, considering the recent unrest about that very issue, it seems wise. Now let’s use our time and make sure it says what Graham Weisbrod says it says.”

“Just when what’s always been the best part of the country has the freedom to be the way it should be, you go running to bring these people back.” Whilmire stared at Cameron Nguyen-Peters as if he were a specimen in a pathology lab.