Chapter Thirty-One
May 11
th
, 2021
"I don't understand why you're not wearing a tie," Phil said to Andy in a grumbling tone of voice as the two sat in the back of the SUV on opposite sides, Lexi and Melody flanking Andy, Violet and Linda flanking Phil. Fi and Ming were in the car following behind them. "We're going to go see the President of the United States at her request and you look like you're going to take a meeting with the head of Warner Brothers."
"I told the President when I agreed to take this job in the Oversight Committee that I wasn't going to wear a suit and tie for anyone," Andy shot back. "I didn't wear a tie at my own wedding, and I had seven women pestering me about that, not just one."
"She's going to make a crack about you disrespecting her just because she's the first female President. You know that don't you?"
"Then I can make a crack about how she's asking a sci-fi writer for advice in dealing with world affairs and ask if I should consider starting my own religion," Andy chuckled.
"Thanks L. Ron."
"I'm sure I can come up with some bullshit electronic doodad to pretend to sense blerbtron rays that are slowly poisoning the moral turpitude of America," Andy said with a grin. "It would be nice to never pay taxes again. It's insane the shit people will believe if you simply present yourself as confident enough."
"Just don't go claiming you're a god or anything," Melody said to him.
"Oh, I'm never going to
declare
I'm a god, but if someone
asks
you if you're a god, you say yes," Andy laughed. "Have we learned nothing from our 'Ghostbusters'?"
"I, for one, know whom I am going to call," Linda jeered.
"You're not nervous about going to the White House?" Phil asked Andy.
"Of course I'm nervous, but if I stop and think about it, I'm only going to make myself more nervous, and what good is that going to do anyone? Besides, we're just doing what's been asked of us, and if we don't tell the President all this shit, who will?"
"Please, God, let it be anyone but us."
"Phil, baby, you helped save the
world
," Linda said to him. "Maybe a little less with the fear and nervousness?"
"You're not expected to give a presentation that includes words like 'survivability rate' and 'life adjustment,' Linda," Phil sighed, looking down at his hands. Phil had been veering back and forth between manic and depressed nonstop for the last few weeks. "Between the strange variants and the odd side effects, there's so much information to present to them that I'm surprised they didn't schedule us to be here for longer. We're going to have to be succinct and to the point on just about everything, and when she asks us to get into more details, we're still going to have to stick to the highlights and try not to get too in-depth."
"Cover the big stuff, Phil. And if you drop anything, I'll do what I can to pick it up," Andy said.
Looking out the window of the SUV, Andy was surprised to see there was a large crowd outside of the White House, although it seemed to be split into two groups, with a few women in law enforcement tactical gear in the midst, making sure there was a safe space in the middle, although both groups seemed to be shouting at each other furiously. He was sure Fi was taking plenty of photographs in the car behind them - that was why she'd traded places with Melody, so that she could move around a bit more and have more space to take pictures.
On the east side, Andy could see signs with slogans like "Men Have Rights Too!" "My Gun, My Life!" "The MPA Is a Death Sentence!" "A President Nobody Voted For!" "Nobody Owns Me!" "I Will Not Be Locked Up At Home!" "2022 Is Too Long To Wait For Elections!" "My Home Is Not a Prison!" "American Women First!" and, most depressingly, "I Will Die Free Instead of Living In Chains!" There were a few men out there, but for the most part, it was women holding the signs. What broke his heart was seeing a few young children out there, clearly kids no older than nine or ten, too young to truly understand what they were even doing.
On the west side, Andy could see contrasting signs with things like "Keep Our Men Safe!" "Our Country Trumps Your Personal Freedoms!" "The Next Generation Is Counting on Us!" "The Women Are In Charge Now!" "American Women First!" (a sign he was confused to see on
both
sides) "Our Turn To Legislate Your Bodies!" and, most remarkably, "We're Doing This For Your Own Good!" On that side, however, Andy couldn't see a single man, just lots and lots of angry women.
It was a stark reminder that even though the issues had changed, the country was still heavily divided. He'd been watching the news, and the reporting had been forced to change. Some of the issues that had been hot button issues before the plague were still there, just in new forms.
The entire "American Women First" movement had been a direct reaction to Operation: Funnel Cake, and they were starting to sound less and less like a bunch of pissed off women and more and more like an up-and-coming political movement. Their claims were that American women had been overlooked for better jobs and better pairings in favor of women being imported from overseas. It wasn't
entirely
inaccurate, but also ignored the point that the women who were protesting didn't have the skills, training or education needed to get the jobs that Funnel Cake was filling in. The AWF movement was, at least, correct that the American system could've been teaching and training upwards instead of replacements, something that was usually argued against with 'we don't have the time.'
Much of the last year had been soul crushing for a variety of reasons. Beyond all the deaths of so many millions of men and children, many women had been wracked by survivor's guilt, a sense that there was no rhyme or reason as to why they survived when their spouses and children hadn't. The number of people who had died by suicide had been terrifyingly on the incline, more women than men, even though the numbers for suicide had traditionally gone the other way. There had definitely been male suicides over the last year, but the reported count for women suicides was truly frightening, and quite sizably larger.
The loss of a lover or a child could tax even the strongest souls, but both was enough to break plenty of spirits.
The religious movement's pressure to try and influence the national debate had gotten wild, as abortion was no longer the number one hotplate issue. That award had fallen on whether religion would be taught in schools again. Schools were expected to reopen in the fall, not just lower-level schools, but universities as well. And colleges had begun making pitches for students of all ages to attend, hoping to lure lapsed twenty-somethings who'd never gone to college, offering highly discounted rates to Train Up America, giving skills to help replace lost workers and reestablish lost systems. Some of the more organized religious groups in America were pushing to make sure that they were getting their beaks wet with that policy as well.
Remote learning was set to be a big part of it, but many of the college dormitories had been revised for Teams rather than individual students, and in the coming months, they would start to figure out if that new system was viable.
For better or worse, America wanted to try and feel normal again, even if only for a moment.
Also scheduled for the fall was the 'Open For Business' movement to kick off, a statement to the rest of the world that America had settled with its Teams and that they thought they could start trying to go back to things being 'the way they were,' except, of course, for the new norms.
According to all the reports, America was now 92% vaccinated against DuoHalo, and before August 1
st
, they would be at 100% coverage, or at least as close to possible as it was to get. (There were tiny pockets of holdouts insisting they didn't need it, and the government was still debating whether to force these people to take the serum or to simply let them die.) Still, there was the sense among some of the population that the country hadn't healed back quite right.
Maybe it was just the insane number of ghosts looming over them.
Over the last few months, Andy had been able to witness the slow awakening of the American people. He'd been making regular trips to work on projects and help promote the books. On those trips he'd gotten to witness Americans no longer confined to their houses, trying to adapt to their new family units in public, something that in and of itself had been great fun to watch.
Andy's first trip to a shopping mall in over a year just a few short days ago had been wild. He'd expected to find the place a virtual ghost town, but instead, it seemed more packed than he'd remembered it being in years, with the food court filled to the brim with women catching up with each other after having been locked away for so long. Sure, there were the occasional men scattered around, but for the most part, it felt like a female-centric society.
Andy was starting to realize he had to get used to being pointed at and gossiped about in public.
The mall staff hadn't been entirely devoid of men, though. It often felt like a shop, or a series of shops, would have one man staffed somewhere with other members of his Team circled around in nearby stores, so that needs could be handled in back rooms during lunches or breaks. It also felt like the stores were managed by a lot less people than they had been before, but nobody seemed to be thinking about shoplifting or robbing, almost like the mall had turned into a village of its own.
Team Rook hadn't just gone to the mall to pick up new clothes, although several of his partners had certainly used the opportunity for that. They'd also gone to see the first movie released into theaters since the pandemic, "Top Gun: Maverick." The film included a dedication to all the actors and crew who had passed away between when the movie was filmed and when it was released. Andy hadn't been surprised that Tom Cruise hadn't died, but the giant list of 'in memoriam' names at the end of the movie was a bit overwhelming. It had been nice to see a movie in a public movie theater, though, even if he had a movie theater in his own house. The roar and rush of having random strangers around with you, caught up in the moment, that was too precious to overlook, something he hadn't realized he'd missed quite as badly as he did.
Andy's Team had even gone and had dinner at the food court, enjoying some Mongolian BBQ at Khan's, something most of his teammates had never tried before, as they tried to emulate Andy's mixing of meats, veggies, noodles and sauces in the bowl before handing it over to be cooked up. And during that time, several of Andy's wives had struck up conversations with other random women sitting around the food court, being aggressively social in a way that Andy just couldn't comprehend. By the time they'd left an hour later several of his partners had made new friends who they'd made plans to either call or hang out with on another day.
Now, being driven by Secret Service into the White House, seeing the two groups of protestors shouting loudly at one another, Andy wondered if that idyllic moment at the Great Mall had been the outlier, or if this was.
"You're freaking out about the protesters, aren't you, Andy?" Phil teased.
"Knock it off, Phil," Linda said to him. "He's still got that shooting from last year on his mind, and I don't blame him."
"They weren't shooting
at
him," Lexi scolded.
