105 The Hand of God (1/2)
The padded seat of Kirk's chair had a small brown stain right in the center of the cushion. Kirk frowned at it for a while: it looked dry. He sat down cautiously and glanced left, then right.
The neighbor on his left was one of the few women in the room. Her name was Anabel Adams, and she was a senator from Alabama: the first black female senator ever elected in a southern state. The last few weeks had been good to her; she'd shed at least twenty kilograms of weight. She needed to lose another forty - her arms were as thick as Kirk's thighs.
On Kirk's right sat Edwin Looseberry, the octogenarian senator from Maine. Looseberry sported an improbably thick mop of white hair on the top of his head, painstakingly installed by a talented hair transplant professional. The mottled hands sticking out of his expensive suit looked as if they'd been transplanted too, from an ancient Egyptian mummy. He was always grinning, maybe because his eyesight and hearing were very poor.
Kirk exchanged how-are-yous with Adams, and patted Looseberry's shoulder to get his attention.
”What? What?” said Looseberry. ”Wait a moment. Wait a moment! I got it. Lander! Kirk Lander. How are you. You from California, right?”
”Correct,” said Kirk, wondering how the hell Looseberry could have been appointed Maine's governor. The other Maine senator, Chuck Piffel, would have been a much better choice.
Looseberry seemed to read his thoughts.
”Chuck went private,” he said. ”Chuck's starting a colony of his own. So here I am.”
”It's good to see you,” lied Kirk, stunned by Looseberry's prescience. He reminded himself that this was exactly why Looseberry kept being re-elected as senator. He seemed to have the ability to read people's minds.
He was doing it now. Grinning, he said:
”Didn't expect that, eh? I'll tell you something. Yes, I'll tell you something. We are all going to be very surprised, shortly. We -”
”Ladies and gentlemen,” the megaphone voice interrupted, ”May I have your attention please.”
The hubbub around the long table died; heads turned. With everyone's eyes on her, Lea Panatella confidently strode towards the empty chair at the head of the table, and sat down. What was this? Had she been appointed governor of the entire US territory? Impossible!
But Lea's enormous tits, seemingly unaffected by the laws of gravity, were a silent statement that anything was possible. She beamed at the shocked faces, and said:
”First of all I want to apologize very deeply on behalf of governor Brock. Governor Brock has been detained by unexpected developments. As we all know, these are difficult times. Governor Brock has instructed me to say he'll meet you all tomorrow at nine in the morning, for a working breakfast followed by a series of briefings and a working lunch. There will be a question and answer session next, and following that governor Brock will remain available for one-on-one consultations, until... until five o'clock. You are all invited to a working dinner at six, during which any remaining issues and questions will be dealt with. As long as it's possible, of course - as we all know, these are difficult times.”
She broke off and beamed at everyone once again, as if difficult times were a source of unending joy.
”Now wait a moment,” boomed Anabel Adams, making Kirk jump in his chair. ”Can you tell us something about the other arrangements? What about the rest of today? It's almost dinner time.”
Before Panatella could answer, another voice shouted:
”Where can I get a can of Raid or Black Flag or whatever? My room's crawling with bugs!”
A chorus of voices strongly supported that statement. Lea Panatella smiled, and waited for the ruckus to die down. When it did, she said:
”Unfortunately, given the ventilation situation we cannot use chemical insecticide inside the building. It could cause serious respiratory problems. And we have been unable to secure any insect traps. Believe me, we tried very hard. So in absence of everything else, we have provided each room with a supply of illustrated magazines.”
”Magazines?”
”You expect me to read myself to sleep with cockroaches crawling across my face?”
”I didn't see any magazines!”
”Neither did I!”
Lea Panatella rose from her chair and pulled her shoulders back, aiming her tits like a couple of nuclear warheads at the outraged faces. It worked. They fell silent, just like wailing babies plugged with pacifiers.
”You will find the magazines, along with food, when you return to your rooms,” she said. ”Once again, I'd like to apologize for all those inconveniences. Whatever they are, they are relatively minor in comparison to what's happening right now in most American families. In fact, in families all over the world. Which is why governor Brock has convened this conference. We have to find solutions!”
Kirk glanced around the table. The glum faces indicated proposed solutions would be few and far between. He felt Anabel Adams nudge his shoulder.
”What is it with those magazines?” she hissed into Kirk's ear. ”Has that woman gone crazy?”
”It's not like that,” said Kirk, edging away and turning to look at her. ”I mean, they aren't meant to be read. What you do is take a magazine, roll it into a baton, and use it to whack bugs.”
Unexpectedly, Anabel giggled.
”Lordy me,” she said. ”I haven't done that since I was a little kid! It might be fun.”
”I envy your optimism,” Kirk said, a little stiffly, and turned to look at Lea. Lea Panatella was saying something that sounded very important. However, he was late.
”... is no further questions, governor Brock and I would like to wish you all a good and restful night. See you in the morning!”