meeting with American Continental Senators when Doomsday struck. From the Capitol, the President went to the old White House Complex and virtually dropped into her chair and rubbed her eyes while the aides made a show of consulting personal teleholo units. The President looked around the room, and then shook her head. Rolling her chair up to the desk and straightening herself up, she cleared her throat.
"You're all exhausted and I need some time to think things through. Go grab some shut-eye and let's meet back here, in say, four hours.” Most in the group nodded groggy relief and stood to leave the room. “Dick,” she called to the Planetary Minister. “Would you mind keeping an eye on things for the next couple of hours? I'll take the watch in about two."
Dick Richards, looking the most alert, except for maybe Dr. Eva Cooper, nodded while folding up his teleholo unit. “I'll talk to you in two hours."
Surgeon General Eva Cooper lingered behind as everyone else departed the room. “Madame President, I respectfully submit that you need more than two hours’ sleep,” she said once she was alone with the President.
"Now you're respectful,” said the President with a touch of irony. She motioned to a chair across the desk. “Have a seat. Care for a glass of wine?"
"Wine?” asked Dr. Cooper, her eyebrows furrowed. “You really need sleep, and I can't advise alcohol right now."
The President stood and made her way to a cabinet at one side of the office. In spite of the Surgeon General's objections, she retrieved two glasses and a decanter of wine. “What I need is someone to talk to ... for just a bit.” The President set down the glasses.
"I'm a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist. I'm not even your personal physician."
The President sighed. “I'm not looking for a medical or psychological opinion, I'm looking for someone I can confide in ... as a friend.” Jenna Walker filled both glasses with a deep red Merlot and sat in the chair next to Eva Cooper.
"Surely you have friends you can confide in,” said Cooper, warily.
"Political allies and trusted advisors, yes. Friends...” Jenna Walker looked down sadly, letting the word trail off. She couldn't think of anyone she could really call a friend. Certainly, a long time ago, she had friends. However, once she entered politics, she carefully limited her confidences. She took a sip of wine and began to brood. “Have you ever been married?"
Cooper sat back, caught off guard by the question. She picked up her glass of wine, in spite of her earlier objection, but didn't take a drink. “Yes, but I'm divorced now."
"What was it like to have someone that close? That intimate?” asked Walker. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, peering into the glass of wine.
"It was wonderful at first. He was very handsome and we could talk about anything.” Cooper sipped her wine. “Then something changed. It seemed that his ego grew, or something. He cared less for me than for himself. We grew apart.” Dr. Cooper inclined her head, examining the President, then took a deeper drink. “Haven't you been close to anyone? Been intimate?"
The President sighed and continued to look into the glass of wine. “Not really. Like most people these days, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of disease and dishonesty. I'm afraid of being hurt.” Jenna Walker sat up and took a sip of wine. “The thing is, it never really bothered me that I was afraid. I'm not even sure I knew I was afraid. There have been enough studies done about the harmfulness of human relationships that it was easy to delude myself. Now I'm tired of the fear."
Eva Cooper pursed her lips. Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was moving, she decided to take a more academic approach. “I think much of it started in the 20th Century with the AIDS epidemic. People were afraid to be intimate with each other because of disease. Also, there's always been a certain kind of man who thinks being masculine means being
"You're all exhausted and I need some time to think things through. Go grab some shut-eye and let's meet back here, in say, four hours.” Most in the group nodded groggy relief and stood to leave the room. “Dick,” she called to the Planetary Minister. “Would you mind keeping an eye on things for the next couple of hours? I'll take the watch in about two."
Dick Richards, looking the most alert, except for maybe Dr. Eva Cooper, nodded while folding up his teleholo unit. “I'll talk to you in two hours."
Surgeon General Eva Cooper lingered behind as everyone else departed the room. “Madame President, I respectfully submit that you need more than two hours’ sleep,” she said once she was alone with the President.
"Now you're respectful,” said the President with a touch of irony. She motioned to a chair across the desk. “Have a seat. Care for a glass of wine?"
"Wine?” asked Dr. Cooper, her eyebrows furrowed. “You really need sleep, and I can't advise alcohol right now."
The President stood and made her way to a cabinet at one side of the office. In spite of the Surgeon General's objections, she retrieved two glasses and a decanter of wine. “What I need is someone to talk to ... for just a bit.” The President set down the glasses.
"I'm a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist. I'm not even your personal physician."
The President sighed. “I'm not looking for a medical or psychological opinion, I'm looking for someone I can confide in ... as a friend.” Jenna Walker filled both glasses with a deep red Merlot and sat in the chair next to Eva Cooper.
"Surely you have friends you can confide in,” said Cooper, warily.
"Political allies and trusted advisors, yes. Friends...” Jenna Walker looked down sadly, letting the word trail off. She couldn't think of anyone she could really call a friend. Certainly, a long time ago, she had friends. However, once she entered politics, she carefully limited her confidences. She took a sip of wine and began to brood. “Have you ever been married?"
Cooper sat back, caught off guard by the question. She picked up her glass of wine, in spite of her earlier objection, but didn't take a drink. “Yes, but I'm divorced now."
"What was it like to have someone that close? That intimate?” asked Walker. She sat forward, elbows on her knees, peering into the glass of wine.
"It was wonderful at first. He was very handsome and we could talk about anything.” Cooper sipped her wine. “Then something changed. It seemed that his ego grew, or something. He cared less for me than for himself. We grew apart.” Dr. Cooper inclined her head, examining the President, then took a deeper drink. “Haven't you been close to anyone? Been intimate?"
The President sighed and continued to look into the glass of wine. “Not really. Like most people these days, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of disease and dishonesty. I'm afraid of being hurt.” Jenna Walker sat up and took a sip of wine. “The thing is, it never really bothered me that I was afraid. I'm not even sure I knew I was afraid. There have been enough studies done about the harmfulness of human relationships that it was easy to delude myself. Now I'm tired of the fear."
Eva Cooper pursed her lips. Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was moving, she decided to take a more academic approach. “I think much of it started in the 20th Century with the AIDS epidemic. People were afraid to be intimate with each other because of disease. Also, there's always been a certain kind of man who thinks being masculine means being
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