Adams’ Apples
12 Press Room
I THOUGHT THE MORNING WENT WELL ENOUGH. No one got anything they wanted. Like a stubborn two-year-old, Jack rejected every command from the colonel with a petulant, “No!” When I saw the sense in a directive, I’d take Jack aside and ask him kindly to do whatever it was and Jack would do it. The colonel’s latest demand was for Jack to have another Bloody Mary. Jack meekly complied.
At only a few minutes before we had to leave for the motorcade, the MIB finally showed up. There was a head-to-head standoff between Ms. Smith MIB and the colonel that promised escalation to command levels of the Department of Defense and the Department of Homeland Security. Apparently, neither had actually been given charge.
Hmm. Maybe there’s a Department of Homeland Entertainment, which would seem to be a good choice to be in charge of this farce. Perhaps the Keystone Agency could send a few of their best police recruits to take charge. At one time, the Department of Health and Human Services would have been the right choice, but ‘Human Services’ had been eliminated in a budget cut over twenty years ago and ‘Health’ was generally considered a privilege and not a right, so most of the department had been shuffled out to bloat other departments with redundant staff.
However it evolved, Jack, Evelyn, and Lily were escorted to a car large enough for Elizabeth and me to join them. Jack looked a little ridiculous in a suit with legs and sleeves that were too short for his lanky frame. I was relegated to a casual sport coat and slacks. I only had one tie with me and spent ten minutes trying to get it tied on Jack. Elizabeth finally displaced me and took care of it in thirty seconds. The doctors had been assigned to a second limo and seemed happy that they were finally being treated with some respect.
At the White House, when we finally got there, things went downhill at an ever-accelerating pace. There wasn’t really time for breakfast. Jack was given a cup of coffee and an aide of some sort smeared makeup on his face to give it some color other than red. They made a valiant effort to comb his hair and beard, both of which resisted the effort. The President’s Press Secretary and I, trailed behind as President Muffley and Jack preceded us the one hundred seventy steps to the Press Room. Just before they got there, the shit hit the fan.
“No!” Jack shouted at the president. “I’m not going to have sex with your daughter! Nor with anyone else other than my wife.”
“Now see here, Mr. Adams. I am the President of the United States. People do what I tell them to!”
“You can’t tell me to cheat on my wife. I won’t do it!”
Over the past twenty-five years, the office of President of the United States had become so ridiculed and impoverished that no one really did what POTUS said to. It had evolved into a largely ceremonial role, not terribly different than being Queen of England, though with a shorter term. At the rate she was going, she’d outlive her grandson as well as she had her son. But she didn’t run Parliament, nor did the President run Congress. Most of the things the President had signed over the past ten years were proclamations the equivalent of declaring “National Pug and Schnauzer Day” or congratulating a new centenarian on his or her birthday.
“This is a great day for America,” the President began his prepared speech. He hesitated and stumbled trying to decide how to proceed with his speech now that Jack had ruined his planned announcement. Of course, it had already run in the Orlando News and was released over the AP hours ago.
“A really great day. One of the best days ever. It has been confirmed that the man over there in the… uh… red hair, has viable sperm in his system. The little baby next to him is his offspring as of three days ago. We’ve got a waiting list of women wanting to get pregnant. Jack Adams is going to be a very busy man. Very busy. The top of the list is my daughter and I’m sure when Jack meets her, he’ll be far more willing to spread his wild oats than he’s been so far. And those oats will be wild. Scattered everywhere. We’re going to turn Jack’s oat seeds over to the National Repopulation Project and the National Insemination Project who will function in joint custody for both scientific investigation and the effective utilization of those seeds.”
Everyone looked around, trying to make sense of what the president was saying and as one, decided to make something up.
The president didn’t let Jack speak, nor did he say anything to him as he left for the oval office muttering about being too busy to waste time here. The party from Orlando was left standing outside the Press Room wondering what they should do next. Apparently, now that two agencies were in charge, no one was in charge.
The MIB showed up eventually.
“We might as well take you back to Blair House,” Mr. Smith MIB said. “Unless you want to go upstairs to the bridal suite where, I’m told, Scarlett Muffley is still tied naked to a bed.” Jack shuddered. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Oh, the DoD is arguing with Homeland Security and the Secret Service over jurisdiction,” Ms. Smith MIB said. “We believe most of the arguments will be several degrees over your heads. We’ll hang out so you have some protection, but that means the doctors can all go straight back to Orlando.”
“We have a concept for reactivating sperm. We’d like to test it out to make sure it doesn’t have any negative effects,” Dr. Simpson said. “Ramsey, can you donate a sample and get Jack to donate a sample? We can keep it fresh long enough to get back to Orlando.”
“What’s the concept?” I asked, figuring I’d need another story for tomorrow.
“Well, we… I should say I believe what the latent sperm need is to have the epididymis shocked back into activity. If I can get the right combination of NH3 and other organic compounds, we can recreate the activity of the epididymis either naturally or in a sealed environment,” Simpson said.
“What’s NH3?” I asked. I never did like chemistry.
“Uh… It is a common nitrogenous waste, particularly among aquatic organisms, and it contributes significantly to the nutritional needs of terrestrial organisms by serving as a precursor to food and fertilizers.”
“It’s ammonia,” Dr. Reynolds said. “How you can ever expect to reactivate sperm by injecting them with ammonia is beyond comprehension.”
“Well, I would temper the negative affects by combining it with a soy-based protein.”
“You’re going to mix ammonia and tofu. How did you come up with this ridiculous concept?”
“I think it will work. It was actually based on a suggestion the president made. He’s a smart man. Very smart.”
We rode back to Blair House together but the doctors managed to pack their bags, get their samples, and get out of town before the next shitstorm hit.
Elizabeth dragged me willingly into the bedroom as soon as the doctors disappeared. The MIB were directing housekeeping regarding cleaning the bedrooms and planned to move into two of them. The Smiths of Orlando fell into bed for a noisy round of lovemaking that I credited to the excitement of having been in the White House.
“Ramsey, my darling, my love.”
“Uh-oh. What is it you want, Dr. Smith?”
“Would you consider trying out Dr. Simpson’s formula? I mean at this point, nothing could hurt, right?”
“Simpson is beginning to sound like a witchdoctor. Only I don’t think witchdoctors actually try to poison their patients. Show me evidence that it has passed clinical trials and has positive results and I’ll consider it. Until then, life is what it is. I’m sterile. Honey, we need to figure out what to do with our lives because that’s all we’ve got,” Ramsey said.
“I need to go,” Elizabeth said abruptly.
“Go where?”
“I have a job. I’ve already missed a day of classes. I need to get back to Orlando and act like a responsible adult.”
“But… what about me? Are you punishing me for not taking that quack’s medicine?”
“No. Not really. I understand and I just don’t want to face the idea of never having children. It makes me mad. But it’s not your fault. You need to stay here and help Jack and Evelyn. You should probably call Ed, too.”
“Yes. I have a job as well. Maybe he’ll put me on the Washington beat.”
“I’ll miss you. Smith Stadium won’t seem the same without you.” We kissed long and hard before Elizabeth tossed the few items she’d brought with her into the little overnight case and we left the bedroom.
Jack and Evelyn stood in the middle of the room kissing with Lily held between them. A car seat, diaper bag, and small suitcase sat beside them. They looked up.
“I’m going back to Orlando,” Evelyn said. “I can’t take being held prisoner here. It’s not where I want to raise my baby.”
“Um… What about… Well…?” I gestured slightly at Jack.
“I was supposed to get deployed this week. Now they tell me I can’t leave here. As far as we’re concerned, being apart will be just like me going into space. We’ll talk every day as often as possible,” Jack said. I nodded. To each his own, I guess. I wasn’t looking forward to staying here and sleeping alone. “I’m sorry, Ramsey, but I raised a big fuss when that Colonel came in a while ago. I told him I was going back to Orlando unless you stayed here as my main contact. He stormed a bit but the Smiths kept him from taking me off to some army base. I guess I didn’t ask you if you’d stay.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll stay. Elizabeth has to go back to Orlando to start teaching tomorrow. Why don’t we all plan on Thanksgiving together? We can decide later if it’s here or there.”
There were mumbled assents. Elizabeth picked up Lily’s diaper bag so Evelyn could use her spare hand on the little roll-aboard she carried. Ms. Smith MIB held the door for the two women and escorted them to a waiting limo for the trip to the airport. The doctors had been taken to National to catch a commercial flight. The wives were taken back to Andrews where a plane was warming for them. They’d be back in Orlando before the doctors were.
“I’m really sorry, Ramsey. You’ve been the only bit of sanity in my life the past several days. Maybe I’ll be able to depend on others as I get used to whatever it is they plan to use me for,” Jack said, flopping down in a chair. Mr. Smith MIB watched us, sighed, and went to the bar to start making martinis.
“Oh, it’s not that bad. I’ll need to check in with my boss and see how often he wants me to file stories. Then we’ll have to make sure we have a story to file on those days. Other than that, we can…”
“Martini?” Smith MIB said, handing us both glasses. He lifted one from the tray for himself.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I said, raising my glass. We drank and reached for a deck of cards.
“I guess you’re stuck with me, too, huh?” Jack said.
“Yeah. No biggie. Smith and I need something to do. They were thinking of sending us to the border to protect against the invading immigrants from the north. They’ve only just figured out that the direction of immigration turned the other way a long time ago. Now there are likely to be more Canadians trying to get a dose of Jack. I’d rather be here. And that goes for Smith as well.”
By the time Ms. Smith MIB got back from the airport, we were on our third martini and had the remains of three giant pizzas sitting on the table. She hurried to catch up.
“Mmm. Coffee,” I muttered as the aroma drew me from my sleep. “You know how much I love you when you bring me coffee.”
“Mr. Smith! I… That’s… sexual harassment!” the young woman said. I was suddenly wide awake.
“What? Who are you?” I snapped, pulling the bedclothes around me more tightly. She looked a bit mousy with big glasses and a boxy suit. “What are you doing in my bedroom? I don’t think anyone would hear sexual harassment charges against me for having my bedroom invaded by some woman I don’t know!” The woman standing beside the bed with a cup of coffee looked like she was going to burst out in tears. The cup rattled against the saucer.
“I’m just here to do my job, sir. They said you needed coffee before you were able to function. Here!” She thrust out the cup, nearly dumping it in the bed. I grabbed for it and managed to steady the liquid as I looked at my bedroom visitor. I sipped the wake-up brew. Not bad. “There are aspirin and water on the bedside table,” she said.
“So, you are my nurse?”
“No, sir! I’m your administrative assistant. I was sent over by SPPC, that’s the Selective Program Placement Coordinator, to organize your office and make sure you know which memos to respond to and where the meetings are held.” Once she was on firm footing regarding her job, she appeared slightly more confident. That business suit, though, made her look twice the age I thought she must be. She had brown hair, tortoise shell glasses, and no apparent figure.
“Who let you in?”
“I arrived at three minutes until eight this morning. Ms. Smith from Homeland Security met me. She said you would not wake up until after ten. Until she told me, I did not know part of my job responsibilities would be waking you up and bringing you coffee. It’s rather demeaning, sir, and I will file a grievance with the subcommittee of the SPPC that buries complaints against supervising personnel.”
I let that all sink in and decided I like being woken up with a fresh cup of coffee by a fresh young woman and would not change her responsibilities. I set the cup down on the bedside table and took the aspirin and water.
“Well, unless your job description includes washing my back in the shower, you’d better leave the bedroom. I sleep naked.”
“Oh!” she squeaked and rushed out of the room.
Yes, I can be a bit mean.
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