brother is going to want to know how it happened.”
“I know,” Arthur admitted.
Percival looked extremely disturbed about the notion. “Ron is already feeling the heat back in Washington. Stockwell, too. People are screaming ‘cover-up.’”
“People like to scream,” Ziusura said dismissively. He glanced around. “Do you have any cookies?”
Gwen stared at him. “Why?”
“I like cookies.”
“Oh.” She pointed to a cabinet, and Ziusura went over, pulled out a bag of chocolate-chip cookies, and proceeded to pop them in his mouth one at a time. Gwen looked at Percival incredulously, and continued, “There is genuinely sentiment that there’s some sort of government cover-up? How could people come to that conclusion?”
“Because Americans don’t like to hear the words ‘I don’t know’ from their leaders,” Arthur said grimly.
“They’d rather think that their leaders were lying to them?”
“Why not?” shrugged Percival. “They’re used to that. They figure that political leaders lying to them is a cost of doing business.”
“Arthur hasn’t lied to them.”
“No, I simply quit on them and went into hiding.”
“You didn’t go into hiding!” When he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, Gwen amended, “Okay, you did go into hiding. But for me.”
“And what about Ron? And Terrance? Don’t I have some degree of obligation to protect their interests?” He turned back to Percival. “How likely is this to turn into something ongoing and major?”
“There’s no point in discussing likelihood. It’s happening. And you certainly can’t be surprised by it, Highness.”
“No, I’m not. Not at all. The citizens of the world had an emotional investment in Gwen’s medical condition. Now they see her fully recovered. With a lack of information, a vacuum will exist into which any manner of misinformation can seep.”
“What sort?” asked Ziusura between crunches, wiping some crumbs off his face. “I’m curious. I’ve been rather insulated for the past millennia or so, and really don’t have much of a clue what passes for human reasoning these days.”
Arthur began to tick off possibilities on his fingers. “They might think that the entire shooting of Gwen was some sort of hoax.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah, well,” Gwen pointed out, “there are still people who think that the moon landing was faked on a sound stage in Area 51. It’s—”
“Wait,” Percival interrupted, looking at Arthur with curiosity. “I just realized. You were president. You had access to Area 51 and information about it. What’s the deal with that? If you don’t mind my asking, Highness, what is in Area 51?”
“Oh. A casino.”
Percival stared at him unblinking. “A…casino.”
“Yes. A very big one. Massive, really. Very festive.” He paused and added matter-of-factly, “It’s in Nevada, Percival. What else would be there?”
“But…sire…it’s one of the most tightly secured, secretive locations in the country!”
“Well, of course, Percival. It has to be that way. What happens in Area 51 stays in Area 51.”
The Grail Knight leaned back, his expression doubtful. “What I find most disturbing about this, Highness, is that you don’t lie.”
“That’s correct. Don’t ask questions, Percival, if you don’t truly want the answers.”
“Could we get back to me, please?” asked Gwen.
“Yes. Of course. So…hoax,” Arthur again started counting off possibilities on his fingers. “That’s one. And since, as Percival’s question indicates, people are so enamored of conspiracy theories, they might believe that Gwen was truly injured—”
“Which I was…”
“—and the government performed some remarkably secret, daringly experimental procedure upon her that cured her completely. A procedure that could no doubt be utilized on other poor devils who are in vegetative states.”
“Except, of course, the government is holding out on its
“I know,” Arthur admitted.
Percival looked extremely disturbed about the notion. “Ron is already feeling the heat back in Washington. Stockwell, too. People are screaming ‘cover-up.’”
“People like to scream,” Ziusura said dismissively. He glanced around. “Do you have any cookies?”
Gwen stared at him. “Why?”
“I like cookies.”
“Oh.” She pointed to a cabinet, and Ziusura went over, pulled out a bag of chocolate-chip cookies, and proceeded to pop them in his mouth one at a time. Gwen looked at Percival incredulously, and continued, “There is genuinely sentiment that there’s some sort of government cover-up? How could people come to that conclusion?”
“Because Americans don’t like to hear the words ‘I don’t know’ from their leaders,” Arthur said grimly.
“They’d rather think that their leaders were lying to them?”
“Why not?” shrugged Percival. “They’re used to that. They figure that political leaders lying to them is a cost of doing business.”
“Arthur hasn’t lied to them.”
“No, I simply quit on them and went into hiding.”
“You didn’t go into hiding!” When he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, Gwen amended, “Okay, you did go into hiding. But for me.”
“And what about Ron? And Terrance? Don’t I have some degree of obligation to protect their interests?” He turned back to Percival. “How likely is this to turn into something ongoing and major?”
“There’s no point in discussing likelihood. It’s happening. And you certainly can’t be surprised by it, Highness.”
“No, I’m not. Not at all. The citizens of the world had an emotional investment in Gwen’s medical condition. Now they see her fully recovered. With a lack of information, a vacuum will exist into which any manner of misinformation can seep.”
“What sort?” asked Ziusura between crunches, wiping some crumbs off his face. “I’m curious. I’ve been rather insulated for the past millennia or so, and really don’t have much of a clue what passes for human reasoning these days.”
Arthur began to tick off possibilities on his fingers. “They might think that the entire shooting of Gwen was some sort of hoax.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah, well,” Gwen pointed out, “there are still people who think that the moon landing was faked on a sound stage in Area 51. It’s—”
“Wait,” Percival interrupted, looking at Arthur with curiosity. “I just realized. You were president. You had access to Area 51 and information about it. What’s the deal with that? If you don’t mind my asking, Highness, what is in Area 51?”
“Oh. A casino.”
Percival stared at him unblinking. “A…casino.”
“Yes. A very big one. Massive, really. Very festive.” He paused and added matter-of-factly, “It’s in Nevada, Percival. What else would be there?”
“But…sire…it’s one of the most tightly secured, secretive locations in the country!”
“Well, of course, Percival. It has to be that way. What happens in Area 51 stays in Area 51.”
The Grail Knight leaned back, his expression doubtful. “What I find most disturbing about this, Highness, is that you don’t lie.”
“That’s correct. Don’t ask questions, Percival, if you don’t truly want the answers.”
“Could we get back to me, please?” asked Gwen.
“Yes. Of course. So…hoax,” Arthur again started counting off possibilities on his fingers. “That’s one. And since, as Percival’s question indicates, people are so enamored of conspiracy theories, they might believe that Gwen was truly injured—”
“Which I was…”
“—and the government performed some remarkably secret, daringly experimental procedure upon her that cured her completely. A procedure that could no doubt be utilized on other poor devils who are in vegetative states.”
“Except, of course, the government is holding out on its
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