Chapter 3
COMMAND AND CONTROL
It was always quiet down in the core of the Undisclosed Location, quiet save for the gentle but purposeful throb of the environment maintenance system, the C.O.R.D.I.S. (Core Reaction, Diffusion and Intake System). Every now and then, a self-contented purr or beep came from the Central Nerve Terminal, a thrilling room full of monitors and consoles and telecommunications units, hooked-up and plugged-in to every government network, communications system, and data base.
Here he was, more than a hundred miles from the capital, thousands of feet underground, and yet Vice President Rod Meaney was fully on top of things – he could run the country – hell, he could run the world – from the Undisclosed Location for as long as need be (if anything, God forbid, should happen to the President). That was the whole point of the Undisclosed Location. That was the whole point of the C.O.R.D.I.S. and the Central Nerve Terminal. That was the whole damned point of the whole damned thing – anybody could see that. But some people out there – and there were more, many more, than you’d think – couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And that was part of the problem. Vice President Rod Meaney snorted contemptuously at all the fools out there who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – see that that was the whole damned point of the whole damned thing.
He emitted this snort while stirring a cup of instant decaffeinated coffee. This was really the life for him – down in his cozy nook, about to enjoy a cup of instant coffee, shuffling towards the Central Nerve Terminal in his slippers and plaid bathrobe. How many people around the world would have imagined that the Vice President of The Most Powerful Nation The World Has Ever Known was running things in fleece slippers and a black-watch tartan bathrobe? Few, if any. There was no question about that.
Meaney chuckled darkly at the ignorance of people. They had no idea. Which was exactly why they needed people like him to run things while they went about their lives in blissful ignorance of who was really running things, and what he might or might not be wearing while he was doing it. And what did they care what he was wearing, anyway? What the hell business was it of theirs? And what the hell did it matter? It didn’t matter a damn what a man wore while he was running The Most Powerful Nation The World Has Ever Known, keeping things steady and making the world safe for Democracy. What mattered was acumen and toughness and above all vigilance, and Vice President Rod Meaney had more, much more, than his fair share of those. So people should just mind their own damned business and let him get on with his job. It’s not like he had time to answer all these ridiculous questions – catastrophe was imminent, threats were gathering, and dark forces were encroaching from every side at all times. Didn’t people understand that? Didn’t they get it? Obviously not.
The Vice President removed a blue plastic bottle from the pocket of his bathrobe, opened it and shook a little white pill into the palm of his hand. He popped his first Priapax™ of the day and swallowed it as he entered the CNT.
Next chapter:
THE THRILL OF SECRET KNOWLEDGE, in which the First Lady keeps something to herself.
It was always quiet down in the core of the Undisclosed Location, quiet save for the gentle but purposeful throb of the environment maintenance system, the C.O.R.D.I.S. (Core Reaction, Diffusion and Intake System). Every now and then, a self-contented purr or beep came from the Central Nerve Terminal, a thrilling room full of monitors and consoles and telecommunications units, hooked-up and plugged-in to every government network, communications system, and data base.
Here he was, more than a hundred miles from the capital, thousands of feet underground, and yet Vice President Rod Meaney was fully on top of things – he could run the country – hell, he could run the world – from the Undisclosed Location for as long as need be (if anything, God forbid, should happen to the President). That was the whole point of the Undisclosed Location. That was the whole point of the C.O.R.D.I.S. and the Central Nerve Terminal. That was the whole damned point of the whole damned thing – anybody could see that. But some people out there – and there were more, many more, than you’d think – couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And that was part of the problem. Vice President Rod Meaney snorted contemptuously at all the fools out there who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – see that that was the whole damned point of the whole damned thing.
He emitted this snort while stirring a cup of instant decaffeinated coffee. This was really the life for him – down in his cozy nook, about to enjoy a cup of instant coffee, shuffling towards the Central Nerve Terminal in his slippers and plaid bathrobe. How many people around the world would have imagined that the Vice President of The Most Powerful Nation The World Has Ever Known was running things in fleece slippers and a black-watch tartan bathrobe? Few, if any. There was no question about that.
Meaney chuckled darkly at the ignorance of people. They had no idea. Which was exactly why they needed people like him to run things while they went about their lives in blissful ignorance of who was really running things, and what he might or might not be wearing while he was doing it. And what did they care what he was wearing, anyway? What the hell business was it of theirs? And what the hell did it matter? It didn’t matter a damn what a man wore while he was running The Most Powerful Nation The World Has Ever Known, keeping things steady and making the world safe for Democracy. What mattered was acumen and toughness and above all vigilance, and Vice President Rod Meaney had more, much more, than his fair share of those. So people should just mind their own damned business and let him get on with his job. It’s not like he had time to answer all these ridiculous questions – catastrophe was imminent, threats were gathering, and dark forces were encroaching from every side at all times. Didn’t people understand that? Didn’t they get it? Obviously not.
The Vice President removed a blue plastic bottle from the pocket of his bathrobe, opened it and shook a little white pill into the palm of his hand. He popped his first Priapax™ of the day and swallowed it as he entered the CNT.
Next chapter:
THE THRILL OF SECRET KNOWLEDGE, in which the First Lady keeps something to herself.
© by N. Ominous 27.12.04
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