32 The Two Toasts (1/2)
But the very next day, news arrived that made Carlton Brock's life even more difficult than it already was. A telex had arrived from Washington! It ran:
QUEEN OF ROSES ARRIVED SAFELY STOP INSTRUCTIONS RECEIVED UNDERSTOOD AND IMPLEMENTED STOP SITREP WASHINGTON NUMEROUS FIREARMS INCIDENTS BUT SITUATION NOW UNDER CONTROL STOP POWER PARTIALLY RESTORED STOP SEVEN CUBES WITHIN A RADIUS OF SIXTY KILOMETERS STOP ALL DISAPPEARED AFTER COLLECTING BETWEEN SEVENTY SIX AND NINETY THREE THOUSAND ITEMS PER CUBE STOP DETAILED VERBAL REPORT AS SOON AS TELEPHONES ON YOUR END START WORKING STOP MESSAGE ENDS
Brock shouted at his staff to stuff a red-hot poker up the collective ass of people working on the landline phone system. Of course the delegates got wind of what was happening. When he went to the general assembly for yet another round of voting, they rushed him like a bunch of groupies mobbing a rock star. Carlton Brock liked this sort of thing, but it was damned inconvenient at this moment.
He brushed off anxious enquiries as well as he could. Yes, it appeared that telephone landlines were working. Landlines, which meant communication by phone throughout the United States and maybe, maybe Canada and Mexico, but not overseas.
Fifty voices had immediately started reminding him that there were numerous undersea cables between all the continents in the world. Luckily, Nelson Odongo took the stage and got the day's agenda under way. It was a very busy agenda that included voting on a dozen separate pieces of important legislation.
Brock slipped out of the chamber as soon as his 'aye' was counted during the final vote, and beat a strategic retreat to his room. But he found no peace, because a stream of aides began bringing him the first comprehensive reports on the situation in New York.
Over the past week, there had been over fifty thousand reported firearms incidents and most likely as many unreported ones. Eighty seven policemen and twenty soldiers had lost their lives. This tally would have been much lower had the medical services operated normally.
They didn't. The power cut and the water shortage that followed had greatly affected hospitals and clinics in the city. The number of people they could treat, and the types of injuries they could treat were both severely limited. Even light wounds were lethal.
But the casualties among the policemen and servicemen were tiny compared to casualties among the civilian population. Most of the deaths weren't due to violence. Something as trivial as catching a light cold could be fatal. Lack of heating turned the cold into flu, and flu into pneumonia.
Nearly all the stores in the city had been thoroughly looted. The loot had included everything that could be eaten or drunk. Both in spite of this and because of that, many people ran out of food. Even more had run out of water and drank from the river and died. Drinking water from the river was a very bad move. It produced vomiting, often followed by diarrhea and a painful death for a lot of people.
There was no precise death toll available, but estimates put fatalities in tens of thousands.
A big part of Central Park had been turned into a makeshift cemetery. Fortunately, that provided a good excuse to keep the area cordoned off in spite of the cube's disappearance. The goods transported had included a slab of dirty pig iron! Soon, the New York in the New World would be producing iron tools.
This last piece of news cheered Carlton Brock up considerably. He assembled his staff in his suite and ceremoniously opened the gas-powered, mobile-home fridge that had been stolen for him by his bodyguards. He took out all six bottles of champagne, opened them to whoops from his staff, and poured them out.
Raising his glass, he said:
”I propose a toast. To the brave men and women building a new America in the New World!”
A few kilometers away, Li Yang, Charlene Lee, and a visibly chastened Harper Lee raised their cups in a toast of their own. The cups contained coffee, and bad instant coffee at that. Li Yang did not drink alcohol, and it never crossed his mind to loot a few bottles.
”To freedom!” said Li Yang, meaning freedom from hunger - he had been eating very well indeed for almost a week.
”To freedom!” Charlene Lee, meaning freedom from paying rent.
”To freedom!” said Harper Lee, meaning it very literally. He had been released from jail just a few hours earlier. His clothes were torn and stained in several spots - he hadn't yet had the time to change. His face was stained too, with dirt and bruises.
Harper Lee had been on the receiving end of three beatings during his short time in jail. The first was from the cops, for stealing. The second was from some white boys that had also been jailed, for being a nigger. After he was moved to a different cell, he received his third beating - from black boys, for being a nigger.
He put away his cup, looked at Li Yang, and said:
”Hey, Bruce. I see you've laid in a hell of a water supply. So I would like to ask you, if I could... I am filthy. I just cannot stand myself like that. And I saw that the bathtub is full of water. Do you think I... Do you think I could...”
Harper always called Li Yang 'Bruce'. He maintained that Li Yang reminded him of Bruce Lee, the famous martial artist and actor. It was part of his training as an insurance salesman to compliment people, preferably in a special way meant for them only. That way, the compliment appeared genuine. That way, Harper Lee got to sell more insurance policies.
Li Yang said: