60 The Cookie-Jar Stare

"It's not who wins or loses that counts-it's who keeps score."

- SOLOMON SHORT

The president disappeared into a waiting room with her aides, her press secretary, and the bald man who looked so familiar. I was inxore certain than ever that I knew him from somewhere.

The Japanese lady motioned to Lizard and she went over to whisper quietly with her. The rest of the meeting was breaking up into small conferences.

For some reason, I wandered over to say hello to Foreman. "You probably don't remember me," I began.

"McCarthy, James Earl-no, Edward," he said. He extended a hand. "You're looking . . . feral." He studied me with narrowed eyes. "Are you all right?"

"No," I said, truthfully.

Somebody touched Foreman's arm then. He held up a hand to stay that person. He looked at me. "Will you come see me?" There was something about the way he said it.

"Uh, why?"

"I want to train you."

"In what?"

"Will you come and see me?"

I thought about it. "All right."

"Good. Thank you." He turned to the waiting questioner, forgetting me completely.

What did he want, I wondered. I remembered my last conversation with him-a peripatetic affair. He had been trying to determine if I was fit to be turned loose upon the planet.

I wandered around the room, eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

Two naval officers were arguing quietly. " . . . looks to me like she's already made her decision."

"I don't think so. You don't know the old lady. She's playing devil's advocate. She takes the position and then challenges you to talk her out of it. My guess is that she doesn't want to go nuclear, but she doesn't see any alternative. She's letting us look for a good reason not to."

"Well, I can think of one," said the taller of the two. "It looks like defeat."

"That falls in the area of public relations. It can also be made to look like victory. I'll give the old witch credit. She makes her decisions by logistics, not politics." He turned to his colleague quietly to the wall. "You'd better get on the phone and alert your staff. If we take the Hawaii option, there'll be a lot of extra work for the Navy."

The stocky man nodded. He turned and left the room quietly. I found myself moving up behind Lizard. She was with the Japanese lady and the dark fellow. The Japanese lady noticed me with a polite nod. She looked at Lizard. "Your young man has come a long way since the last time we were all in the same room."

Lizard said, "I think so." She said to me, "Jim, I don't think you've ever been formally introduced. This is Madam Shibano, and this is Dr. Rico. Madam Shibano and Dr. Rico are two of the three civilian managing directors of the Agency."

"Dr. Foreman is the third?"

"Yes, he is," said Madam Shibano. She extended her hand. "I'm glad you have rejoined us, James. It will be good to have you on the team again."

"Well, I'm not so sure I . . ." Lizard touched my arm gently. A warning, "-uh, I mean, thank you."

Madam Shibano smiled. "James. You make a difference. That is why you are here today."

An officer came up to the group then. "Madam Shibano? Dr. Rico? The president would like to see you now."

"Thank you," she said. Before leaving, she looked to Lizard. "Elizabeth," she said, looking directly at her. "This is a very important meeting."

"I know," said Lizard. "You can count on me." Then she added, "And McCarthy as well."

"Good. Thank you."

After they left, I turned to Lizard. "What was that all 'about?"

"You're my worm expert."

"So?"

"The president hasn't made her decision yet. The video is pretty convincing, but . . . well, she doesn't want to use nuclear weapons on the continental United States. She's desperately looking for an alternative."

"Is there one?"

"If there were," Lizard said, "don't you think we'd be arguing for it?"

"I don't know."

"Trust me." She put her hand on my shoulder and looked straight into my face. "I may need to call on you. All I want you to do is tell the truth. Tell everything you've seen, everything you know about the worms. That's all."

"Why me? You've got Dr. Zymph here."

"Dr. Zymph has never been out in the field. Not like you have. You've put your life on the line. She hasn't. You've seen things she hasn't. She can talk about the ecology-she's an incredible theoretician-but you can tell us what it feels like. You know the experience of it. You've come face to face with it. That's what we need to bring into this conference. A little terror."

"Like the Chtorran in the auditorium?"

Lizard didn't blink. "If that's what it takes, yes."

"Do I have a political position?" I asked.

"Beg pardon?"

"What side am I on?" I asked. "My testimony-who am I supporting?"

"Your facts will speak for themselves," she said.

"Uh-huh-and what will they say?"

Lizard looked unhappy. "Use the nukes."

I didn't reply to that. Not at first. I was trying the idea on.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said.

Lizard led me over to a table, poured me a tumbler of ice water and handed it to me. I drank it quickly. I realized I was breathing hard. I said, "When I was in high school, we were given a kind of test. The whole class."

"The button test?" Lizard asked. "I remember it."

"Yeah, the button test. We were given the opportunity to press the button. Would we do it? Could we do it?" I remembered the feeling again and felt a cold chill in my stomach. It wasn't just the ice water. "There was a lot of fear in the class. A lot of crying. Even some screaming. In the end, we realized there wasn't one of us who was willing to take the responsibility for launching the missiles."

"That's the usual result," said Lizard. "But not always."

"Well, then the question came up. If the majority of the people don't want to own that responsibility, why do we still have nuclear missiles? The teacher-his name was Whitlaw-then offered us the chance to disarm them completely. But none of us would do that either, because we couldn't trust the other side. I think the point of that process was to show us how we were trapped into our present political situation. But all I remember from it is the fear of having that black box in my hands, the one with the red button in the middle of it. There was a point when I was so damned tempted to just press it and end the whole maddening discussion once and for all-but I didn't, of course."

I looked at Lizard. "Are you getting this? Or am I boring you?"

"Go on," she said.

"Well, this is the point. Here I am really being given the decision to press the button."

"It's the president's decision," said Lizard.

"Not entirely. I might be given a voice here. I'm part of the decision. That was the point of that process. It's my responsibility too. I can't speak to the issue unless I'm willing to own it."

"I see," said Lizard. "And are you? Are you willing to drop the bomb?"

I said, "I don't know. And I do. It's the logical extension of everything. It's my whole history. It's the same question as the little girl in the corral, as Shorty, and the people in the auditorium-and the renegades. It's all those lives. I don't want to be the one who has to make the decision-but I keep getting handed the gun, or the flame-thrower. And now it's the black box with the red button. I don't want it."

She grabbed me by the shoulders. "Listen to me. What you want is irrelevant. I want all the Chtorrans to disappear. I want my husband alive again. I want my baby alive again. I want to go back in time four years. But can I make any of that happen? No. I can't. This is it. The question is not what you want, but what you're willing to do with what you've got."

There were tears in my eyes. My voice cracked. "One life I can cope with, Lizard. I didn't pull the trigger on that little girl. And Shorty gave me permission; he told me to pull the trigger on a man being attacked by a Chtorran. Those people in the auditorium, they were in the way. The renegades-I was mad with rage. I mean, I had a . . . a justification, every time. An excuse. I don't have one this time. This time, it's a cold-blooded decision." I looked to her for help.

There was none forthcoming. Lizard said, "Now, do you understand the president's problem?"

I wiped my eyes. "I think so. A little bit."

"Right. You've got it, Jim. It's her decision, but you have to be responsible for your part of it. Now, are you willing to do that?"

"I'm willing to be responsible."

"Would you be willing to drop the bomb, if it were your decision?"

"I don't see any other alternative," I said.

"That's what we're here for," Lizard said. "Not to talk her into it, but to find a way out of it. And-failing that-then our job here is to be responsible for the decision that we do have to make."

"It's that inevitable?"

She didn't have a chance to answer. The stocky naval officer came storming back in, looking very angry. "The goddamn phones have been disconnected!" he said.

The president was just coming back into the room. "And for very good reason," she said. "Some people can't be trusted not to use them." She fixed him with the cookie jar stare. "Even when they've given their word that the proceedings of the session are top secret!"

The officer turned red, but didn't respond.

The president smiled grimly. "If you'll all resume your seats, we can continue."

When writing these verses of mine,

I start with a clever last line,

then work backward from there,

toward the opening pair,

with the hope it'll all work out fine.[4]

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