Текст книги "The Human Division"

Автор книги: John Scalzi

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“Then you will understand when I say that what you tell me now, here in our little side room, away from the larger negotiation between the Colonial Union and the Bula, will have an immediate impact on the health of the whole process,” Ting said. “I asked for the right to do this, on the grounds that the specifics of our negotiation—the physical visitation of our people between our planets—lent itself to this particular task. All I had to do was wait until we had all the information we needed.”

Abumwe smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely following you, Sub-Ambassador Ting.”

“I’m very sure that’s not true, Ambassador Abumwe,” Ting said. “Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji.”

“I beg your pardon?” Abumwe said.

“Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji,” Ting said.

Schmidt glanced over at his boss and wondered if the tension that he could see in her neck and in her posture would be at all noticeable to an alien not entirely familiar with human physiological cues. “I’m not a member of the Colonial Defense Forces, so I’m not sure that I would be qualified to answer a question about its presence on anyworld,” Abumwe said. “But I know people in the CDF who would be better able to answer your question.”

“Ambassador, that was a delightfully artful evasion,” Ting said. “I couldn’t have done it better, were I in your position. But I am afraid I really must insist that you give me a direct answer this time. Please tell me what you know about the Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji.”

“I can’t tell you anything about it,” Abumwe said, opening her hands in a I would help you if I couldgesture.

“‘Can’t’ is a strategically ambiguous word to use here,” Ting said. “Can’t because you don’t know? Or can’t because you’ve been ordered not to say? Perhaps the fault here is mine, Ambassador. I have been too imprecise in what I’ve been asking. Let me try again. This is a question that you may answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Indeed, I must insist that it is answered with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ Ambassador Abumwe, are you personally aware that there was a Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji?”

“Sub-Ambassador Ting—,” Abumwe began.

“Ambassador Abumwe,” Ting said, pleasantly but forcefully, “if I do not receive a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to my question, I am afraid I will have to suspend our negotiations. If I suspend my negotiations, then my superiors will suspend theirs. The entire process will fail because you have not been able to offer a simple response to a direct question. I believe I am being perfectly clear about this. So, a final time: Are you personally aware that there was a Colonial Defense Forces presence on Wantji?”

“No,” Abumwe said. “I am not aware of that.”

Ting smiled a Bula smile and opened her hands in a very humanlike gesture, as if saying, There, see?“That’s all I needed, Ambassador,” she said. “A simple answer to a direct question. Thank you. I do apologize for adding this conflict to our negotiations, and especially sorry to do it to you. As I said, I believe we’ve had excellent rapport up to now.”

Schmidt saw the tension drain out of Abumwe’s neck and shoulders. “Thank you for your apology, but it’s not necessary. I would just like to finish up our work.”

“Oh, we have,” Ting said, and stood. Abumwe and Schmidt hastily stood with her. “We finished the moment you lied to me.”

“When I lied to you,” Abumwe said.

“Yes, just now,” Ting said. “Bear in mind, Ambassador Abumwe, I am almost entirely certain that you were ordered to lie to me by your superiors. I have negotiated with enough humans to know what someone being ordered to lie looks like. Nevertheless, you didjust lie to me, and that was the test, to see whether you would or not. You did.”

“Sub-Ambassador Ting, I assure you that whatever you believe I know, my actions should not have an effect on the larger negotiations—,” Abumwe said.

Ting held up her hand. “I promise you, Ambassador Abumwe, that your people and mine are not done negotiating,” she said. “What we are negotiating, however, has changed substantially.” She motioned toward the case. “And now, at last, we come to this.”

“What is in the case?” Abumwe asked.

“A gift,” Ting said. “Of sorts. It’s more accurate to say we’re returning something that used to belong to the Colonial Defense Forces. It’s actually two objects, one inside the other. We considered removing the second from the first, but then we realized that you—humans, not you personally—could argue the first didn’t come from the second. So we felt it best to leave it in place.”

“You’re being vague,” Abumwe said.

“Yes,” Ting said. “Perhaps I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You may open it if you like.”

“I think it might be better if I didn’t,” Abumwe said.

“Your choice,” Ting said. “However, I would appreciate it if you convey to your superiors a message I have from my superiors.”

“What is it?” Abumwe asked.

“Tell them that after they’ve opened that case, when we reconvene, the subject of negotiations will be remuneration for the Colonial Union’s illegal Colonial Defense Forces presence in our territory,” Ting said. “Not only for the illegal settlement on Wantji, but also the warship we’ve currently in our custody. The Tubingen,I believe it is called.”

“You’ve attacked the Tubingen?” Schmidt said, and immediately regretted the lapse.

“No,” Ting said, turning to Schmidt, amused. “But we’re not letting it go anywhere, either. Its crew will be returned to you eventually. Our new round of negotiations, I believe, will set the price for the return of the ship itself.” She turned back to Abumwe. “You may tell your superiors that as well, Ambassador Abumwe.”

Abumwe nodded.

Ting smiled and gathered up her PDA. “And so farewell, Ambassador Abumwe, Mr. Schmidt. Perhaps your next set of negotiations will fare better for you.” She left the room, followed by her assistant. The case was left on the table.

Abumwe and Schmidt looked at it. Neither made a move to open it.

EPISODE FOUR

A Voice in the Wilderness

Albert Birnbaum, the “Voice in the Wilderness” and once the fourth most popular audio talk show host in the United States, told his car to ring his producer. “Are the numbers in?” he asked when she answered, not bothering to introduce himself, because, well. Aside from the caller ID, she would know who he was the second he opened his mouth.

“The numbers are in,” Louisa Smart said, to Birnbaum. He imagined her at her desk, headset on, mostly because he almost never saw her in any other context.

“How are they?” Birnbaum asked. “Are they good? Are they better than last month? Tell me they are better than last month.”

“Are you sitting down?” Smart asked.

“I’m driving,Louisa,” Birnbaum said. “Of courseI’m sitting down.”

“You’re not supposed to be driving yourself,” Smart reminded him. “You’ve had your manual driving license pulled. If you get pulled over and they check your car’s trip monitor and see you have the autodrive off, you’re going to get it.”

“You’re my producer, Louisa,” Birnbaum said. “Not my mom. Now quit stalling and give me the numbers.”

Smart sighed. “You’re down twelve percent from last month,” she said.

“What? Bullshit,Louisa,” Birnbaum said.

“Al, why the hell would I lie to you?” Smart asked. “You think I likelistening to you panic?”

“That’s gotta be bullshit,” Birnbaum continued, ignoring Smart’s comment. “There’s no possible way we can lose one listener in eight in a single goddamn month.”

“I don’t make up the numbers, Al,” Smart said. “I just tell you what they are.”

Birnbaum said nothing for a few seconds. Then he started hitting his dashboard, making him swerve on the road. “Shit!” he said. “Shit shit fuck shit shit shittity shit!”

“Sometimes it’s amazing to me that you talk for a living,” Smart said.

“I’m off the clock,” Birnbaum said. “I’m allowed to be inarticulate on my own time.”

“These numbers mean that you’re down by a third for the year,” Smart said. “You’re going to miss your ad guarantees. Again. That means we’re going to have to do another set of make-goods. Again.”

“I know how it works, Louisa,” Birnbaum said.

“It means we’re going to finish the quarter in the red,” Smart said. “That’s two quarters out of the last three we’re down. You know what thatmeans.”

“It doesn’t mean anything other than we make sure we’re in the black next quarter,” Birnbaum said.

“Wrong again,” Strong said. “It means that Walter puts you on his watch list. And when Walter puts you on the watch list, you’re one step away from cancellation. Then that ‘Voice in the Wilderness’ bit of yours won’t just be a clever affectation. You really will be out in the cold.”

“Walter’s not going to cancel me,” Birnbaum said. “I’m his favorite talk show host.”

“You remember Bob Arrohead? The guy you replaced? He was Walter’s favorite, too,” Smart said. “And then he had three bad quarters in a row and he was out on his ass. Walter didn’t build a multibillion media empire by being sentimental about his favorites. He’d cancel his grandmother if she had three red quarters in a row.”

“I could make it alone if I had to,” Birnbaum said. “Run a lean, mean operation on my own. It’s totally possible.”

“That’s what Bob Arrohead does now,” Smart said. “You should ask him how that’s working out for him. If you can find him. If you can find anyone who knows how to find him.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have you,” Birnbaum said. He was not above base flattery.

And Smart was not above throwing it back in his face. “And if you get canceled and leave SilverDelta, neither will you,” she said. “My contract is with the company, not with you, Al. But thank you so much for the attempted head pat. Where are you, anyway?”

“I’m heading to Ben’s soccer match,” Birnbaum said.

“Your kid’s soccer match doesn’t start until four thirty, Al,” Smart said. “You need to lie better to someone who has your calendar up on her screen. You’re going off to meet the groupie you met at the Broadcasters Association meeting, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Birnbaum said.

Smart sighed, and then Birnbaum heard her count to five, quietly. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not your mother,” she said. “You want to bang some groupie, again,fine with me. Just bear in mind that Walter is not going to be as free with the hush money when you’re two quarters in the red as he was when you were his top earner. And remember that you have no prenup, and Judith, unlike your second wife, is notstupid, but youmight be, which is how she maneuvered you into not having a prenup. I hope the validation of your middle-aged ego and three minutes of exercise is worth it.”

“I treasure these calls, Louisa,” Birnbaum said. “Especially your subtle digs at my sexual technique.”

“Spend less time banging groupies and more time on your show, Al,” Smart said. “You’re not fading because your politics have suddenly gotten unpopular. You’re fading because you’re getting lazy and bored. You get lazy and bored in this business, and guess what? You’re out of the business. And then the groupies dry up.”

“Thanks for thatimage,” Birnbaum said.

“I’m not kidding, Al,” Smart said. “You got a quarter to turn it around. You know it and so do I. You better get to work.” She disconnected.

*   *   *

They caught up to him as he was heading out of the lobby of the hotel. “Mr. Birnbaum,” the young man said to him.

Birnbaum held up his hand and tried to keep walking. “Can’t sign autographs now,” he said. “I’m going to be late for my kid’s soccer match.”

“I’m not here for an autograph,” the young man said to him. “I’m here with a business proposition.”

“You can direct those to my manager,” Birnbaum said, yelling back to the young man as he blew past. “That’s what I pay Chad to do: field business propositions.”

“Down twelve percent this month, Mr. Birnbaum?” the young man called out to him as he headed into the revolving door.

Birnbaum took the entire circuit of the revolving door and came back to the young man. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I said, ‘Down twelve percent?’” the young man said.

“How do you know about my numbers?” Birnbaum said. “That’s proprietary information.”

“A talk show host who spends as much time as you do linking to leaked documents and video shouldn’t need to ask a question like that,” the young man said. “How I know your numbers isn’t really the important thing here, Mr. Birnbaum. The important thing here is how I can help you get those numbers up.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are,” Birnbaum said. “As a corollary to that, I have no idea why I should care about or listen to you.”

“My name is Michael Washington,” the young man said. “On my own, I am no one you should particularly care about. The people who I represent, you might want to listen to.”

“And who are they?” Birnbaum said.

“A group who knows the advantage of a mutually beneficial relationship,” Washington said.

Birnbaum smiled. “That’s it? Are you serious? A shadowy, mysterious group? Look, Michael, I may get traction on conspiracy theories from time to time—they’re fun and the listeners love ’em. It doesn’t mean I think they actually exist.”

“They’re neither shadowy nor mysterious,” Washington said. “They simply prefer to remain anonymous at this point.”

“How nice for them,” Birnbaum said. “When they’re serious about whatever thing it is they want, and they have names,they can talk to Chad. Otherwise you’re wasting my time and theirs.”

Washington offered Birnbaum his card. “I understand entirely, Mr. Birnbaum, and apologize for taking up your time. However, once you have your meeting with Walter tomorrow, if you change your mind, here’s how you can reach me.”

Birnbaum didn’t take the card. “I don’t have a meeting scheduled with Walter tomorrow,” he said.

“Just because you don’t have it scheduled doesn’t mean you’re not going to have it,” Washington said. He waggled the card slightly.

Birnbaum left without taking it and without looking back at Washington.

He was late for Ben’s soccer match. Ben’s team lost.

*   *   *

Birnbaum wrapped up his morning show and was texting his new toy about the possibility of another hotel get-together when he looked up from his PDA and saw Walter Kring, all six feet ten inches of him, standing right in front of him.

“Walter,” Birnbaum said, trying not to lose composure at the sight of his boss.

Kring nodded toward Birnbaum’s PDA. “Sending a message to Judith?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” Birnbaum said.

“Good,” Kring said. “She’s a great lady, Al. Smartest thing you ever did was marry her. You’d be an idiot to mess with that. You can tell her I said so.”

“I’ll do that,” Birnbaum said. “What brings you down here to the salt mines today, Walter?” SilverDelta’s recording studios were on the first two floors of the company’s Washington, D.C., building; Walter’s offices took up the whole of the fourteenth floor and had a lift to the roof for his helicopter, which he used daily to commute from Annapolis. The CEO of SilverDelta rarely dropped below the tenth floor on any given day.

“I’m firing someone,” Kring said.

“Pardon?” Birnbaum’s mouth puckered up as if he’d sucked on a block of alum.

“Alice Valenta,” Kring said. “We just got the numbers in for the quarter. She’s been down too long and she’s not coming back up. Time to move on. And you know how I feel about these things, Al. Firing people isn’t something you farm out. You should be able to shoot your own dog, you should be able to fire your own people. It’s respectful.”

“I agree entirely,” Birnbaum said.

“I know you do,” Kring said. “It’s Leadership 101.”

Birnbaum swallowed and nodded, suddenly having nothing to say.

“I’m just glad you haven’t made me come down here on your behalf, Al,” Kring said, leaning over him in a way that he probably couldn’t help, being two meters tall, but which made Birnbaum impressively aware just how much he was the beta dog in this particular situation. It took actual force of will not to avert his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” Kring said.

“Of course not, Walter,” Birnbaum said. He actually turned on his performance voice to say it, because if he used his normal voice, it would have cracked.

Kring straightened up and clasped Birnbaum on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. We should do lunch sometime. It’s been far too long.”

“I’d like that,” Birnbaum lied.

“Fine,” Kring said. “I’ll have Jason set it up. Sometime next week, probably.”

“Great,” Birnbaum said.

“Now, you’ll have to excuse me, Al,” Kring said. “Not every meeting I’m having today is going to be as nice as the one we’re having.” Birnbaum nodded his assent and Kring wandered off without another word, down the hall to Studio Eight, soon to be Alice Valenta’s former work space.

Birnbaum waited until Kring was out of sight and simultaneously exhaled and shuddered. He reached into his pants pocket, ostensibly to retrieve his vehicle fob but in reality to check if he had spotted himself.

Birnbaum’s PDA vibrated, alerting him to an incoming text. It read, When do you want to meet?Birnbaum started writing back that under further consideration, another hotel meet-up wouldn’t work this week, when he realized the text hadn’t come from his new toy. He backtracked the text.

Who is this?he wrote, and sent.

It’s Michael Washington,was the reply.

How do you know this PDA?Birnbaum sent. It was his private PDA; he was under the impression that the only people who knew the number were Judith, Ben, Louisa Smart and the new toy.

The same way I knew which hotel you were at with that woman who is not your wife,said the response. You should focus less on that and more on how to save your job, Mr. Birnbaum. Do you want to meet?

He did.

*   *   *

They met at Bonner’s, which was the sort of wood-paneled bar that people making entertainment shows used when politicians had meetings with shadowy figures.

“Before we do or say anything else, I need to know how you know so much about me,” Birnbaum said as Washington sat in his booth, not even bothering with the pleasantries. “You know both my personal and professional business in a way no one else in the world knows or should know.”

“Louisa Smart knows,” Washington said, mildly.

“So you’re getting the information from her?” Birnbaum said. “You’re paying my producer to spy on me? Is that it?”

“No, Mr. Birnbaum,” Washington said. “After ten years you should know your producer better than that.”

“Then how are you doing it? Are you with the government? Our government? Someone else’s?” Birnbaum unconsciously slipped into his paranoid rhetoric mode, which brought him much fame in earlier years. “How extensive is the surveillance web on me? Are you monitoring people other than me? How high up does this go? Because I swear to you, I will follow up on this, as far up as it goes. At the risk to my own life and freedom.”

“Do you really believe there is a government conspiracy against you, Mr. Birmbaum?” Washington said.

“You tell me,” Birnbaum said.

Washington held out his PDA. “Your PDA,” he said.

“What about my PDA?” Birnbaum said.

“Give it to me for a moment, please,” Washington said.

“You bugged my PDA?” Birnbaum exclaimed. “You’re tapped into the network at the root!”

“Your PDA, please,” Washington said, still extending his hand. Birnbaum gave it to him, with some trepidation. Washington took it, made a few wiping motions, pressed the screen and then handed it back to Birnbaum. He looked at it, confused.

“You’re showing me the Voice in the Wilderness’gram,” he said.

“Yes,” Washington said. “The free ’gram you give out so people can listen to your show and then send text or voice comments, along with location tags so you know where the comments are from, geographically, when you read or play them on air. Which means your ’gram has the ability to send and receive audio and also track your movements. And because you had it built cheaply by flat-rate coders who make their money banging out ’grams like yours fast and sloppy, it’s incredibly easy to hack into.”

“Wait,” Birnbaum said. “You used my own ’gramagainst me?”

“Yes,” Washington said. “You get what you pay for with coders, Mr. Birnbaum.”

“What about Walter?” Birnbaum said. “You said I would have a meeting with him and I did. How did you know that?”

“The monthly numbers were in,” Washington said. “The quarter was ending. There were show hosts who have been lagging. Kring is famous for firing people face-to-face. So I made a guess. Work the odds, Mr. Birnbaum, on the chance you might see Walter Kring today. And since I put the suggestion into your head that you’d have a meeting, any encounter you might have would qualify. After that, it just took monitoring your PDA to catch you after the ‘meeting’ took place.”

Birnbaum put his PDA away, a certain look on his face.

Washington caught it. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you,” he said. “That I’m notfrom the government. That there’s not a global conspiracy following you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Birnbaum said. “I already told you that I don’t personally go in for that stuff.” His expression was unchanged.

“I do apologize,” Washington said. “I’m sorry I’m not more nefarious or well connected into the murky corners of national and global politics.”

“Then who are you?” Birnbaum said.

“As I’ve told you before, I represent a group who wants to offer you a solution to your current set of problems,” Washington said.

Birnbaum almost asked, Who are your clients, really?but was distracted by what Washington said. “And what exactly is my problem?”

“Namely, that you’re shedding listeners at an accelerating rate on your way to becoming a has-been in the national political conversation,” Washington said.

Birnbaum thought about arguing that assertion but realized that would not actually get him any answers, so he let it go. “And how do your friends propose to fix that?” he asked instead.

“By suggesting a topic for you to consider,” Washington said.

“Is this a bribe?” Birnbaum asked. “A payment for espousing a certain view? Because I don’t do that.” He had in fact done it, once or twice or ten or more times, in deals that were in point of fact often negotiated at Bonner’s. Birnbaum squared it with his morals by figuring they were usually things he was likely to say anyway, so what he was doing was merely illegal, not unethical. However, one always led with being nonbribable. It gave those attempting to bribe a sense of accomplishment.

“There is no money to be exchanged,” Washington said.

Birnbaum made that face again. Washington laughed. “Mr. Birnbaum, you have more than enough money. For now, at least. What my clients are offering is something much more valuable: the ability to not only climb back up to the position of fame and personal power that you held not too long ago, but to exceed it. You were the number four audio talker in the land once, although not for very long. My clients are offering you a chance to go to number one and stay there, for as long as you want to be there.”

“And how are they going to manage that?” Birnbaum wanted to know.

“Mr. Birnbaum, I assume, given your profession, you know who William Randolph Hearst was,” Washington said.

“He was a newspaper publisher,” Birnbaum said. That was the extent of his knowledge; Birnbaum’s knowledge of American history was solid regarding the founding and the last fifty years, and everything else was a bit of a blank.

“Yes,” Washington said. “A newspaper publisher. In the late 1800s the United States and Spain were warming up for a war over Cuba, and Hearst sent an illustrator to Cuba to make pictures of the event. When the illustrator got there, he sent a telegram to Hearst saying that as far as he could see, there was no war coming and that he was going home. Hearst sent back that he should stay and said, ‘You furnish the pictures, and I will furnish the war.’ And he did.”

Birnbaum looked at Washington blankly.

“Mr. Birnbaum, my clients need someone to furnish the pictures, as it were,” Washington said. “Someone to start a discussion. Once the discussion starts, my clients can take care of the rest. But it has to start and it has to start somewhere other than with my clients.”

“I furnish the pictures and they will furnish the war,” Birnbaum said. “What’s the war, here?”

“Not a real war,” Washington said. “And indeed, what you’d be saying could prevent a real war.”

Birnbaum thought about this. “No money, though,” he said.

Washington smiled. “No,” he said. “Just audience, fame and power. Money often follows those, however.”

“And you can guarantee the first three,” Birnbaum said.

“Furnish the pictures, Mr. Birnbaum,” Washington said, “and the war comes. Pretty damn quickly, too, I would add.”

*   *   *

Birnbaum’s opportunity to furnish the pictures came the very next day.

“Can we talk about world government?” Jason from Canoga Park was saying to Birnbaum. Jason from Canoga Park was one of Birnbaum’s most reliable listeners in that sooner or later everything came back to world government, the fear of world government and how whatever topic was the subject of discussion would eventually lead to world government. You could set your world government clock by Jason from Canoga Park.

“I love talking about world government, Jason, you know that,” Birnbaum said, more or less on automatic. “How is it coming this time?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Jason said. “Right now the big discussion is whether or not we should resume diplomatic relations with the Colonial Union. Note the ‘we’ there, Al. It’s not ‘we’ as in ‘we the United States,’ is it? No, it’s not. It’s ‘we’ as in ‘we the people of Earth.’ Which just means ‘we the world government of Earth, which is being constituted in secret, right under your nose.’ Every day we talk about relations with the Colonial Union, every day we discuss whether to send diplomats to the Colonial Union, is a day the tentacles of the world government constrict further on the throat of individual freedom, Al.”

“It’s a compelling point, Jason,” Birnbaum said, using the phrase that in his mind meant You are completely full of shit, but arguing with you would be pointless, so I am going to change the subject on you,“and you bring up a topic which has been on my mind a lot recently, which is the Colonial Union. Have you been following the official narrative on the CU, Jason?”

“As it relates to world government?” Jason asked.

“Sure,” Birnbaum said, “and every other topic, too. The official narrative, the one the government is fronting and all the other governments fell in line behind, is that for—what? two hundred years?—the Colonial Union has been holding back the people of Earth. It’s been keeping us from leaving the planet except under its own terms, using us to farm soldiers and colonists, and keeping us down by not sharing its technology and understanding of our place in the universe. And you know what, Jason? Despite everything this particular administration in Washington has been wrong about over the last six years, and there’s been a lot,that’s fair. Those are fair points to make.

“But they’re also the wrongpoints to make. They are the myopicpoints to make. They are—should we say it? dare we say it? let’s go ahead and say it—they are the politically advantageouspoints for this administration to make. Look at the facts. What’s the U.S. economic growth been for the last three or four years? Come on, people, it’s been in the Dumpster. You know this. I know this. Everyone knows this. And why has it been in the Dumpster? Because of the economic policies of this administration, hundreds of millions of decent Americans, the ones that wake up every morning and go to work and do what they’re supposed to do, do what we ask them to do—people like you and me, Jason—well c we’re hurting, aren’t we? We are. Every day of the year.

“Now we come to the point where our beloved leader, the resident in the White House, can no longer hide under the canard of a so-called global economic downturn, and has to face the music with the American people about his policies. And then, like a miracle from the skies, here comes John Perry and that Conclave fleet, telling us that the Colonial Union, notthe president, notthe administration’s policies, notthe so-called global recession, is the root of our woes. How convenientfor our beloved leader, don’t you think, Jason?”

By this time, Louisa Smart was tapping on the glass from the control room. Birnbaum looked over. What the hell?Smart mouthed silently. Birnbaum held up his hands placatingly, to say, Don’t worry, I’ve got this.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with the world government,” Jason said, doubtfully.

“Well, it’s got everythingto do with the world government, doesn’t it, Jason?” Birnbaum said. “For the last several months we’re not talking about anything butthe Colonial Union, and what we should do concerning the Colonial Union, and what we should do about the Colonial Union, and whether it can be trusted. Every day we talk about the Colonial Union is a day that we don’t talk about our own needs, our own problems, and the faults of our own government—and the current administration. I say it’s time to change the discussion. I say it’s time to change the official narrative. I say it’s time to get to the truth, rather than the spin.

“And here’s the truth. I’m going to give it to you now. And it’s not going to be popular because it’s going to run maybe a little counter to what the official narrative is, and we know how protective the administration and its little enablers in the media are about the official narrative, don’t we? But here’s the truth, and just, you know, try it on for size and see how you like the fit.

“The Colonial Union? It’s the best thing that ever happened to the planet Earth. Hands down, no contest, no silver or bronze. Yes, it kept the Earth in its own protective bubble. But have you seen the reports? In our local neighborhood of space, there are, what? Six hundred intelligent alien species, almost all of whom have attacked humans in some way, including John Perry’s hallowed Conclave, which would have wiped out a whole planetary colony if the Colonial Union hadn’t stopped them? If you think they would wipe out a colony, what makes you think any of them would spare the Earth if they thought we were important?