John Barnes - Directive 51

Izzy cleared her throat. “You know, that’s kind of a Daybreak image.”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of a Daybreak world. I don’t like it, but they won, and we have to admit it. We’re stuck living the Daybreak program for some decades or centuries; we might as well live it fat, prosperous, peaceful, and content.” She stood, enjoying once again the subtle shift that her balance had taken. “And speaking of fat and content, I’m about to go enjoy eating for two. Anybody want to come along and help celebrate peace? You too, Izzy, my treat till we regularize paying you.”

The young woman was still quite shy, but she nodded and seemed pleased to be included, especially once she knew that Bambi and Arnie would be coming along. The four of them strolled out into the pleasant Rocky Mountain spring, mostly just enjoying a day with less fear than they had had in a long time.

Heather heard the running feet behind her and the habits of a lifetime kicked in; she turned and crouched, ready to fight. The two young people running after them froze.

It was a couple in their early- to mid-twenties, a man with a mountain-man beard and long brownish hair, and a young woman with longish red hair, a pleasant, chunky Earth-mother figure, and large brown eyes. Each wore trousers and a belted jacket that was probably copied from a karate gi, with a thin underjacket and a heavy outer one—the coarse fabric was probably home-woven—and low moccasins. Scanning automatically for identifiers in case she ever needed them, Heather noted that the young man was deeply tanned— he must work outside —and the woman’s left hand hung a little funny, as if she were wearing her wrist wrong.

“I’m sorry we startled you,” the young man said. “Back at your building they sent us running after you. My name’s Jason, and this is Beth, and back at the office we were told to say we had a Code Fourteen Matter for you—”

Code Fourteen. Heather almost whooped; two heavily involved former Daybreakers for Ysabel and Arnie to study. Two more chances to see to the bottom of this.

“We were just going to lunch,” Heather said, “and it’s a special enough occasion that I feel like taking people to lunch, so why don’t you come along. Have you seen the newspaper today?”

“Peace,” Jason said. “Yeah. That’s so great.”

“Well,” Heather said, “Dr. Yang, here, will be one of the main people you will be talking with, along with Ms. Underhill.”

Ysabel smiled nicely. “Call me Izzy. Everyone does, or they will if I tell them.”

Since “Code Fourteen Matters” could not be talked about in public, instead the group spent some time getting to know Jason and Beth, who, it turned out, had been living a carefully anonymous life in Antonito, until they had spotted the ad in the Weekly Wrapper . They seemed likeable enough, and after lunch, Arnie and Ysabel took them off for their first extended interview.

“Well, that’s more progress,” Heather said. “Surprising how much of that there’s been lately. I almost feel like I’ll be able to take my maternity leave with an easy conscience.”

“Shh,” Bambi said. “Murphy hears us.”

“Oof. And so apparently does the kid who just kicked me. Hey, little person, don’t be too eager to get out here; we’re not going to be ready for you.”

As they settled into the room where they’d be staying while Arnie and Izzy debriefed them, Beth observed, “I wasn’t sure we were doing the right thing, and now I feel sure we are.”

“Ha. You’re just as tired as I am of manual labor.”

“Well, yeah, a bed and meals just to be hypnotized, and talk and talk and talk—that’s a pretty good deal,” she admitted. “There’s hot showers here you don’t gotta chop no wood for, baby. How freakin’ cool is that ?”

“I may never come out until I’m one big wrinkle.”

“Let’s take our showers together, then, so we share all there is. I’ll wash your back if you’ll wash mine.”

Later, after they had made love and cuddled up in the strange bed, Beth said, “Even with peace, and being that we found our way here, and everything, I’m still kinda scared.”

“About what?”

“Just that it’s different.” She turned to press against him more firmly, and said, “But I’ll get used to it, baby, I’ll get so brave . Besides, it’s kind of cool that the big leader-lady here, what’s her name, that big lady with the auburn crew cut—”

“Heather.”

“Yeah, Heather, it’s cool that she’s totally pregnant. Means she thinks there’s hope, don’t you think?”

“Babe, of course there’s hope. This is America.”

Presidential Directive 51 is real, but despite what you may read on the web, it is probably not anything to fear. The unclassified part of Directive 51, like its predecessors, specifies what we will do in case of “decapitation”—sudden destruction of the top echelons of the Federal government.

President Bush signed it into existence in 2007, replacing the Clinton Administration’s Directive 67 (1998), which replaced George H. W. Bush’s Directive 69 (1992) and Directive 37 (1990). The earliest continuity-of-government directive whose existence is public seems to be Reagan’s Directive 55 (1982). It is believed that the first continuity-of-government policy may have been issued as a classified Executive Order in 1947 or 1948 by President Truman.

To his credit, George W. Bush was the first president to make any substantial part of a continuity-of-government directive public. All continuity-of-government directives prior to Directive 51 remain entirely classified. Much—we citizens don’t know how much—of Directive 51 itself is classified, on grounds that an enemy who knew our national survival plans prior to an attack would be in a position to do much more harm.

By its nature, continuity-of-government planning violates the separation of powers, which, you probably learned in high school, is a cornerstone of Constitutional government. The Constitution gives Congress the power to determine the succession to the presidency, and puts the President or his subordinates in charge of carrying out the will of Congress.

But Congress cannot know which of the president’s officers would survive a decapitation attack, what resources would be available, or what the situation might be. Therefore Directive 51, like every succession directive or executive order before it, provides that in case of an unprecedented disaster, a specific Federal official will become a temporary dictator, with nearly unlimited power and a mission to restore Constitutional government as quickly as possible. The person on whom this terrible responsibility might fall is to be called the National Constitutional Continuity Coordinator, or NCCC. We do not have an NCCC as I write this; the office exists only if the worst has already happened, a practical precaution so that the NCCC cannot take power arbitrarily.

Directive 51 designates the person in charge of assuming power as NCCC after a disaster; at the moment I write this, it is to be the Chief of Staff of the Department of Homeland Security. In normal times, this is the person who ensures that DHS personnel are assigned to appropriate duties and coordinates things like high-level meetings and major long-term projects. The reason for designating the DHS Chief of Staff as the NCCC-in-waiting is that the job entails:1. a very high security clearance 2. extensive knowledge of security/military/police/intelligence operations in progress, and 3. no direct responsibilities during an attack.

Or in short, this is the person who knows the most while having the least to do; the best-informed person we can afford to send out of Washington just before the nuke goes off or the gas is released. In all probability, the NCCC-in-waiting will be the holder of some different office by the time you read this—presidents change and there are innumerable reasons for designating one office or person rather than another—but the general principle of the best-prepared least-essential person has been followed for at least a quarter century.