Christopher Nuttall - A Learning Experience

“I’d like to set you up with a reporter or two,” Kevin added. “Like it or not, we have to shape the public relations battleground to our advantage…”

“Why?” Steve asked. “What does it matter what sort of crap the reporters spew out about us?”

“I wasn’t thinking of going to the MSM,” Kevin said. His voice tightened. “It matters, Steve, because we still need to recruit people from Earth. If they think of us as some new-age version of The Authority , they’re going to be fearful. We need them to consider us rational agents, not monsters. And if we can get public opinion on our side, it will make it harder for the governments to move against us.”

Steve scowled. He had to admit that Kevin had a point, but he didn’t like it.

“Very well,” Steve said, finally. “But someone reasonable . I want to see the name before you make the arrangements.”

“Of course,” Kevin said. “And the meeting at the UN?”

“I will not be sucking their cocks,” Steve said. “You make it damn clear to them that if they treat us as naughty children who need a spanking we will simply walk out and to hell with the UN. We are an independent nation and will be treated as such.”

“They let the Libyan nut lecture them for hours,” Kevin said. “I think they can put up with you.”

He paused. “One other thing?”

Steve sighed. “What?”

“Take a break from trying to write the constitution in a day,” Kevin advised. “The Founding Fathers took over a hundred days. You cannot be expected to write a complete document for the ages in less than a couple of months. Frankly, you really need a carefully-selected committee and a complete absence of pressure.”

Steve snorted, but he took his brother’s point. “Read through what I’ve written so far, then let me know what you think,” he said. “And I’ll try to keep up with the news.”

“That’s definitely your face on television this time,” Mariko said, an hour later. She’d taken one look at his face and ordered him into bed, where she’d massaged him until he’d started to relax. “I think that’s your photo from Boot Camp.”

“It is,” Steve said. He couldn’t help noticing that the tagline claimed it was his High School graduation photograph, which was definitely a critical research failure. He’d never been to High School. “And I bet that reporter is coming down against me.”

“Or maybe he has a crush on you,” Mariko teased. “It’s not that bad a photograph.”

Steve gave her a doubtful look. The photo had been taken four weeks into Boot Camp and he looked ghastly . His eyes were sunken, his face was pale and he looked suspiciously like a drug addict trying to resist the temptation to start taking drugs again. All things considered, it was a minor miracle Mariko managed to like it. But then, she did have strange taste in men.

He flipped through the channels, shaking his head. Both FOX and CNN seemed to have their doubts about the whole affair, suggesting their senior management hadn’t quite decided which way to jump. The BBC reported the whole thing in tones that suggested that it was all a giant joke, despite the President’s speech, while Al Jazeera seemed to believe it was all a Western plot with dark motives. Online, some bloggers were tearing apart the President’s speech while others were pointing out the clear evidence of extraterrestrial life. It was a complete madhouse.

Turning back to the original reporter, it was clear that news teams were already heading towards the ranch. Steve had largely shut down family operations there, but there were still supplies moving towards the area for transport to space. Activating the interface, he sent orders to keep the reporters out of the ranch if possible — and, if not, to pull out completely and abandon the ranch. It would be painful, but he didn’t want another incident. In hindsight, embarrassing the DHS so thoroughly might just have been a major mistake. There were already leaks from the Department, now the President had opened the floodgates.

He started to flip through channels again. A preacher he vaguely recognised was screaming about the End of Days, predicting fire, floods and nuclear disaster. In Washington, a crowd was gathering in front of the White House, although it was impossible to tell what — if anything — they wanted from the government. A handful of Congressmen and Senators were being interviewed, but it was clear that they knew little about what had been going on. Most of the comments included threats to impeach the President for not telling them about the starship and the existence of aliens.

“Business as usual, really,” he said.

Mariko nodded, then pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. “I’m a doctor,” she said, “even though I’ve felt as ignorant as a new intern over the last month or two.”

Steve nodded. Mariko had had to get used to using alien technology that did just about everything for the doctor, including mending old wounds and removing scars. It was so far in advance of human technology that all she really was in the ship’s sickbay was a button-pusher. Steve could understand her frustration with not really knowing what was happening when she used the technology, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“You are pushing yourself too hard,” Mariko continued. “You’re in the prime of health for a man your age — and the alien treatments will ensure you remain youthful for quite some time. But you are still pushing yourself too hard. The Head of Government cannot do everything on his own. You need to delegate more to your friends and allies.”

“I could appoint you Minster of Heath,” Steve said.

He gasped as Mariko poked a finger into his chest. “Be serious,” she said. “You’ve already had to hand recruitment over to Charles. Start handing over some other matters too. You won’t do anyone any good if you work yourself into an early grave. Or don’t you want to give up control?”

Steve gritted his teeth. She was right, he knew. Part of him didn’t want to give up control over the fundamentals of their new society. How could he trust anyone else to write the constitution? But, at the same time, he was pushing himself too hard.

“I understand,” he said. “I’ll see who I can find to help.”

New York, USA

After some careful diplomatic negotiation, it had been decided that Steve could beam directly into the United Nations itself, rather than face the gathering crowds outside the building. All of New York seemed to have come to a halt as protesters, in favour of Steve or against, had descended on the city. According to the reports Steve had seen, the NYPD — completely overwhelmed — had called for reinforcements from all over the State and convinced the Governor to call up the National Guard. It was still proving hard to control the crowds.

The silver light faded away, revealing a UN staffer who looked rather shocked by what he’d seen. Steve smiled at him, noted the man’s nametag — KOMURA — and then allowed the Japanese man to lead him towards the waiting room. According to Kevin, who had slipped bugs into the UN after the emergency session had been called, several ambassadors had been replaced in a hurry by more senior representatives, while hundreds of deals were being struck under the table. But then, Steve acknowledged, they’d done the same themselves. His representatives had spoken to several democratic governments, offering fusion and other technological goodies in exchange for recognition. He had a feeling that the overall response relied upon the outcome of the coming session.