13.
A PRIVATE JET lands at the Reagan National Airport in Washington D.C. It comes to a stop on the tarmac next to a black limousine and a staircase emerges below its entryway. The plane’s door opens and Manos steps out wearing a pinstriped luxury suit.
Nice to be back in the nation’s capital.
He spots a concrete wall of levees protecting the island from the rising water. Anti-aircraft guns and artillery rockets line the perimeter, the Lincoln Monument and the Capitol Building jutting out from the fortifications.
Gareth Allen emerges from the car. “Welcome to Washington!”
Manos walks down and shakes Gareth’s hands. “Nice to see you. When does the Energy Summit start?”
“In an hour. The President will be there.”
“I’m ready. Let’s get going.”
They step into the limousine and Gareth offers a cigar. “Cuban?”
Manos waves it off. “No thanks. I’m not in the mood.”
“Is everything okay? You seem upset, Manos.”
They ride to the entrance of Washington D.C., hitting severe traffic as they approach a levy gate at the end of the Lincoln Bridge.
Manos opens a window and stares at the floodwater. “I’m not happy with the tariffs.”
Gareth turns. “I wired money to GoldRock yesterday. You’ve made a handsome profit. Why the long face?”
“That’s not the issue. Your taxes are killing the stock market. The Nasdaq is down 8 percent today. GoldRock’s investments are getting clobbered.”
Gareth grabs a tablet and loads a browser. “Did you see China’s equities?” He shows Manos a chart. “They’re down five percent today. The Dow Jones is only down three percent.”
“And?”
“The Chinese are getting smacked much harder than we are. The moves are working, Manos!”
Manos clenches his fist. “How are we winning if our markets are also down? We’ve just shot ourselves in the foot.”
“Do I need to remind you that we are at war? Our rivals are trying to destroy us. We have to strike first. Look at the big picture!”
Manos frowns. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s losing money.”
“When we win the War, our economy will soar to the sky. Have some patience.”
The car nears the end of the Lincoln Bridge and approaches a military checkpoint. The windows roll down and a bird-sized drone flies into the vehicle and scans the passengers’ retinas. Seconds later, a checkered barrier lowers and they drive into the city.
Gareth leans over. “I understand you’re upset about Google’s stock price, Manos. Can I help you turn the corporation around?”
Manos turns and stares at his partner in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”
“Let me ask you this. If you had the opportunity to run Google yourself, could you do a better job than the current management team?”
“Is that even a question? I can absolutely run that corporation and make it great again. It’s managed by a bunch of imbeciles.”
Gareth whispers into Manos’s ear. “How would you like to be Chief Executive Officer?”
“What about Andrews?”
“Let’s just say she has been neutralized.”
“She’s no longer CEO?”
“Not exactly. She is still chief executive but her time is limited. We have evidence that she sympathizes with the enemy.”
Manos gleams. “I knew it. That was my suspicion all along. When will you oust her?”
“We don’t plan to unless you’re interested in the job. The fruit is ripe for the picking, if you know what I mean.”
“Interesting,” Manos says with a smile. “Let me discuss this with my staff, Gareth. There is definitely an opportunity here. I’m very interested in becoming CEO of Google.”
The limousine drives down Pennsylvania Avenue, an empty thoroughfare devoid of pedestrians. Empty shops sit idle and silence overtakes the city. Above, machine guns rest on concrete platforms rising every city block. The car approaches a military checkpoint and stops at a scanner.
Gareth taps his pal. “Are you excited for the summit today?”
“Yes, it’s my first time meeting the President. I came prepared with innovative ideas like you asked.”
The vehicle passes the checkpoint and heads to an underground parking lot below the White House. Army robots line the passageway.
Gareth grabs his briefcase. “The President wants new ideas, Manos. He is obsessed with energy.”
“I’m eager to share my thoughts. You will be impressed.”
“Good. As you know, oil prices rise even though we seize more Russian crude and cut back on domestic fuel consumption. We need radical solutions.”
“Trailblazing is my currency, Gareth.”
They exit the vehicle and a cyborg escorts them across the dark parking lot to an elevator. They take it up to the White House security room where a security drone performs a full-body scan. Granted clearance, they pace along a marble hallway past portraits of American Presidents. Near the West Wing, they take a staircase down to the War Room.
Manos enters the bunker and feels his knees buckle. Several high-profile government officials, including the Secretary of State, Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staffs and the CIA Director, stand a few feet away. He grows pale. “Gareth, are you sure I belong here?”
Gareth grabs his arm. “You’re one of us. Just relax.”
Manos heads for the back of the room and sits in the corner, taking out his documents and pretending to be busy. He avoids eye contact and mutters to himself.
You can do this, Manos. Don’t panic.
“Please take a seat,” a staffer announces. “The President will be here momentarily.”
The generals and cabinet members stand above an oversized mahogany conference table. They wait in silence for their leader, who soon enters the room and takes a seat.
“Let’s get started,” President Hughes says before everyone sits down. “I’ve called a summit here today to reform our energy policy and develop a strategy for the future. This is our most vital national security concern. A prosperous country needs a reliable fuel supply.”
Manos’s heart races as he scans the room. The Vice President and Defense Secretary whisper to each other. Manos makes eye contact with the CIA Director and quickly looks away to his notes.
The President leans forward. “Here are the facts. China’s Mars colony is ten times larger than ours and the Chinese control all transport hubs on the red planet. If we want to defeat our enemy in space, we must have more energy. We’ve spent trillions of dollars on rockets and missiles, but what good will it do if we can’t power those systems? We need new solutions for this crisis.”
The Defense Secretary raises his arms. “Mr. President, I’m proud to report significant military victories against the Russians. We’ve seized their oil platforms in Greenland and we’re taking back our natural gas fields in Alaska.”
“I know that, Carl,” the President says. “Oil inventories are up two percent in the last month thanks to our military, and yet crude prices continue to rise. Markets ignore our supply gains.”
The Vice President shakes his finger. “Markets are focused on the short term, Mr. President. As long as we continue the offensive and capture hydrocarbons, fuel prices will eventually fall. We have to stay the course.”
“I disagree,” says a deep voice. All eyes turn to Stan Klein, CIA Director, who commands the room. “Mr. President, the push against Russia is important, but let’s not forget that China is the world’s largest energy consumer. To make a dent in oil prices, we must cripple their demand.”