Next in Line

NEXT IN LINE

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Synopsis: Thirty years from now, three old friends reunite to remember the past, just moments before the future arrives to overtake them.

Author's Notes: This story began as a PPMB “Iron Chef” challenge by MMan in March 2004, called “Hail to the Chief, la la la la la.” What if a future President of the United States was someone from the Dariaverse? The idea then merged in my head with another challenge issued some weeks earlier by Kara Wild, on injecting realism into Daria stories (“something that is neither kinky nor over the top”). Brother Grimace then offered further restrictions on the challenge:

· Someone offers someone a totally inappropriate food item in an effort to apologize for something.

· The time-frame of the fic is thirty minutes or less.

· The conversation focuses around a well-known, yet inaccurate belief concerning romance.

· There are three persons involved with the conversation, and one of them is naive or uneducated about the subject of the conversation.

· The story should involve a card game.

Some of the restrictions were fudged slightly (the time frame is just over an hour), but they were used anyway. Only the first two sections of this three-part story appeared in March 2004, and the story remained incomplete until now. Sorry for the delay. The tale was originally entitled “When It Changed,” but I have since used that title elsewhere.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to MMan, Kara Wild, and Brother Grimace as this tale’s grandparents, and to Thea Zara, for catching a mistake.

PART ONE

TIME: 08/09/2037, 21:27:56 EDT

PLACE: LANDON RESIDENCE, LAWNDALE COURT, SILVER SPRING, MD

SPEAKERS:

LANDON = The Honorable Jodie Abigail Landon, Speaker of the House of Representative, U.S. Congress

J. LANE = Jane Lane (see attached file)

D. MORGENDORFFER = Daria Morgendorffer (see attached file)

AUTHORIZATION 3731P43S57-0809ERFQ-L1 AUDIOFILE ONLY

RECOVERED/DECLASSIFIED/RELEASED 1/13/2096

[START]

LANDON: Daria! Jane!

J. LANE: Madam Speaker!

LANDON: Oh, stop that! Come here, give me a hug! Look at you, Jane! My God, you haven’t changed a bit!

J. LANE: Look at you, dear! Get that suit!

LANDON: Daria, good to see you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Hi, Jodie. You look great. I bet that outfit cost more than our apartment does.

LANDON: It probably does, if you’re living in Mississippi.

J. LANE: We’re not, but maybe we should. Manhattan’s getting a little crowded.

D. MORGENDORFFER: So, Jodie, is it true that being the Speaker of the House means you don’t have to speak?

LANDON: God, I should be so lucky. I should have my doctor grow me a new throat.

J. LANE: Can he do something with my butt, too?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Please.

J. LANE: Hey, what did my butt ever do to you?

D. MORGENDORFFER: If you wouldn’t drink that carbonated apple juice before you go to sleep, it wouldn’t do anything to me.

LANDON: Listen, speaking of that, I wanted to ask how’s married life treating you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We’re divorced. That was just a stunt we did for the “Good Mornings” show in twenty-twenty.

LANDON: Right, I remember that. But you two got married again a while back, right? Or was that supposed to be a secret? Hmmm, you’re not saying anything.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I always forget you have connections.

LANDON: Hey, this is Washington. We know more than you think we do, and less, too.

J. LANE: Jodie . . . it’s not really what it sounds like.

LANDON: I know, I know. It’s the tax thing. So, how is it?

J. LANE: Oh, it’s awful. She snores like a rocket taking off every five seconds.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You sleep like a log, Jane, so what would you know about it?

J. LANE: The neighbors are suing us for auditory damage.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You mean the ones who weren’t killed off by the poison gas?

LANDON: My, neither of you has changed a bit! Oh, wait. Mister Crandall, bring that tray here, please. Thank you. Here, try these. These are excellent. They’re my apology for interrupting your marital bliss.

J. LANE: Thanks! Oh! Ooo, goob!

D. MORGENDORFFER: What are they?

LANDON: Shhh! I’m telling everyone it’s real crab, but it’s fake. It’s crab-flavored superfish. Take one.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I’m really allergic to some of those new flavors they’re putting out. Get hives and everything. Maybe just a cracker.

LANDON: A cracker, then. Are you two staying married this time, or should I shut up?

J. LANE: We, um, we’ve talked about it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We are. Just say it, Jane, get it over with. Who the hell cares? Where’s the bathroom?

LANDON: Oh. It’s down that hall, second door to the right. Are you okay? Daria? Oh, crap, I bet I put my foot in that one.

J. LANE: It’s okay. She’s a little touchy about . . . things. Everything.

LANDON: When did you two get remarried?

J. LANE: Uh . . . oh, what the hell. Twelve years ago.

LANDON: Twelve years ago? Jane, you aren’t gay! Neither of you is gay!

J. LANE: Shhh! Don’t spoil it for the rumormongers!

LANDON: Are you serious? Twelve years?

J. LANE: She showed up at my place right after her last divorce. She was a wreck. Don’t talk to her about it. It was pretty bad.

LANDON: Which divorce was that? First or second?

J. LANE: Third.

LANDON: Oh, my Lord, I am so sorry to hear that.

J. LANE: Yeah. Some twenty-ish actor she met in L.A. He sent the papers right to her e-phone, four months after they traded rings. Didn’t get much of her savings, but it wiped her out emotionally. She really . . . cared about him, but he used her inside and out.

LANDON: Oh, that was cold. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.

J. LANE: Well, you’d be the only one in North America who didn’t, then. He was seeing someone else, a lot of someone elses, actually, about two or three a day. She never knew until he dumped it in one of his autobiographies. He said a lot of unkind things about her. The book sucked, but unfortunately, some important people read it. I can’t believe you didn’t. If you did and you’re being nice about it, then thanks for pretending otherwise. She won’t or can’t go to the West Coast ever again. She hadn’t left New York in a decade, till last night when we came in.

LANDON: Oh, Lord. I’m really sorry now that I brought it up.

J. LANE: Don’t be. She knows you didn’t mean anything bad by it.

LANDON: Are you sure she’s okay?

J. LANE: Uh, I don’t know. She took it really hard. A few months after she moved in, we just filed the papers, same as before.

LANDON: Why are you keeping it a secret?

J. LANE: Wasn’t much of a secret, if you knew about it.

LANDON: I hate to remind you that it came from that little identity-surfing program you gave me, so that I could keep track of you two.

J. LANE: Oh. Damn, I forgot all about that. You’re right. I didn’t know it got into . . . oh, of course it gets into government files. Forget it. Sorry. Anyway, we just . . . we just don’t talk about it much to anyone. It gives people the wrong idea, and they already have too many wrong ideas about us. Best to leave it alone, move on.

LANDON: You should be proud of being the role models you are. The two of you started a trend when you got married, you know? Straight, same-sex, best-friend couples getting married for tax purposes?

J. LANE: Not much of a trend, far as I’ve seen. The network cut us off from its data files when our show was cancelled.

LANDON: Well, it caught on. I saw the demographics the other day. About one hundred fifty-six thousand couples like that so far. Friends marrying friends is on the rise among, um, experienced, world-wise women, especially.

J. LANE: Good save. Better than “old” or “mature.”

LANDON: Yeah. I still don’t feel mature. Thank God.

J. LANE: It’s the stuff they put in the drinking water. Keeps us looking twenty-nine when we passed that milepost decades ago.

LANDON: I thought it was in the granola bread.

J. LANE: If it is, I should be using your brand. You look wonderful.

LANDON: Thank you, but you look better.

J. LANE: God, listen to us. Can you believe we’re saying this?

LANDON: Here she comes. Daria, you look wonderful!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh, knock it off. Shouldn’t you be schmoozing with the other guests instead of high-school outcasts?

LANDON: Actually, I’d rather be right here, doing what I’m doing, if you don’t mind. I haven’t seen either of you in ages.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Well . . . it’s been a while, I guess.

LANDON: What have you two been doing?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Since the network cancelled our show and threw us out? Not much. Sold a few books, got a bit part in a movie. I sleep a lot now. Read, listen to music, complain about things, the usual.

J. LANE: Life’s nicer without a TV around. Quieter, anyway.

LANDON: What was the story with the cancellation? I heard a lot of different things, and I don’t know what to believe.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You tell it.

J. LANE: Well, you can—

D. MORGENDORFFER: Just tell it.

J. LANE: Oh, fine. The network said it was going to go to D.A.s, you know, make everyone online digital—

LANDON: Now, I heard that, but was that so they wouldn’t have to pay salaries?

J. LANE: No, because it costs more to make digital actors than to use regular people. The thing is, digitals don’t get sick or die. Cuts off all the health insurance issues, too, and overtime, all that, but the sick-and-die part was the key. Plus, they can adjust the digitals in little ways whenever they want to flow with public trends and expectations. Change the eyes to blue over time if that’s the trend, make the boobs bigger or smaller, change ethnicity, sex, height, weight, whatever. Plus—

D. MORGENDORFFER: Is there anything to drink here?

LANDON: Anything hard? Over there. No, wait. You stay right there. Mister Richards? Yes, could you bring—right. Bring those over here, please. He’ll bring it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You like that?

LANDON: What?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Telling people what to do, and they do it.

LANDON: Yes, but they get paid plenty to do it. Thank you, Mister Richards. Whoa, girl! Daria, don’t—

J. LANE: Daria, not so much. You’ll choke.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I’m not driving, what do you care? Can I get another one?

LANDON: Daria, why don’t you and Jane come with me? I’d like for you to meet some people, or at least see them at a distance so we can gossip about them.

J. LANE: I’m game.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Gossip. Let’s see . . . we don’t have sex. Not with each other, anyway. You probably know that, too.

LANDON: Um . . .

D. MORGENDORFFER: I don’t have it with anyone. Not anymore. Thank God.

LANDON: Dear, why don’t—

D. MORGENDORFFER: I mean, we’re just married for the tax break.

J. LANE: Daria. Cracker. Eat.

LANDON: Now, over there, that’s the man who wants to be the next king of Hawaii, assuming secession comes to the floor of the House and Senate and gets approved.

J. LANE: Any chance in hell of that happening?

LANDON: More of a chance than I’d thought, unfortunately. Guam and Saipan are thinking about it, too. China put them up to it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: He looks pretty good. God’s gift to evolution.

LANDON: His four wives think so, too, from what I hear. He’s got eighteen children.

J. LANE: Only eighteen? Slacker.

LANDON: A self-made slacker billionaire, yes.

J. LANE: Oh, yawn. There are so many of those. So common.

D. MORGENDORFFER: He’d have to be a billionaire to afford all those pro-passes.

LANDON: Hmmm. A millionaire, anyway. Procreation passes aren’t that expensive.

J. LANE: I wouldn’t mind giving him a trial run.

D. MORGENDORFFER: That looks like a giant pizza over there.

LANDON: It is. Archaic, isn’t it?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Be right back.

J. LANE: Bring back a piece for me! Daria!

LANDON: So, you two sleep in the same bed, too?

J. LANE: It isn’t what you think it is, Jodie, really.

LANDON: I know. I was going to say, she must really need close comfort or . . . I think I’m overstepping my bounds here. Sorry.

J. LANE: It’s okay, you’re right. It’s been a cold world. We don’t really have anyone else but each other. Her mother died in twenty-twenty-one, and I don’t know anything about my folks. They could be alive, dead, I wouldn’t know. Wind’s gone, you know, from that flu, and you know about Trent, and Summer was in Tampa when that went up. Penny’s in Tierra Del Fuego, haven’t heard from her in ages. Don’t know where anyone else is. Quinn, she’s doing fine in Paris, with Jamie and the kids. Daria says Quinn’s trying to buy part of the Louvre. How about your side?

LANDON: My parents passed a while ago. Mom got to see me make Speaker, at least. Rachel’s got her casino in Vegas still, she’s doing well. You heard about Evan, right?

J. LANE: No. What?

LANDON: He was killed in Indonesia about twelve . . . no, thirteen years ago. He was with the Marines.

J. LANE: Oh, Jodie.

LANDON: No, no, it’s all right. It’s all right. He did what he wanted to do. He was such a . . . he was—

J. LANE: Jodie.

LANDON: No, I’m fine. I’m—

J. LANE: Here.

LANDON: Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m not usually—

J. LANE: It’s okay.

LANDON: I’ll buy you another handkerchief.

J. LANE: I have hundreds. Keep it. Daria’s coming.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Here. I bet this isn’t real pepperoni, but it’s pretty damn close.

J. LANE: Probably not real cheese, either, but who cares?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Exactly. You have a cold, Jodie?

LANDON: A little one. Excuse blowing my nose. Sorry.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Want some pizza?

LANDON: How you two could eat this stuff all these years is beyond me. Oh, why not. That small one.

J. LANE: Whoa, now that’s a gown. Who’s that?

LANDON: Ambassador from Wales. You’ll need a translator if you want to talk to her.

D. MORGENDORFFER: No, thanks. Safer to gossip at a distance, per our earlier agreement.

LANDON: Jane, do you drink?

J. LANE: A little. Just a little.

LANDON: Mister Rovello! Yes, one for each of my friends. This is the best vintage in Washington and vicinity, and thus the best in the world. Shall we toast?

D. MORGENDORFFER: To . . . taxation without representation?

J. LANE: To pizza?

LANDON: To friends.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Cheers.

J. LANE: Cheers.

LANDON: Cheers.

J. LANE: So, could your doctor do something with my butt? It’s starting to sag a little.

[END PART ONE]

* * *

PART TWO

TIME: 08/09/2037, 22:39:10 EDT

PLACE: LANDON RESIDENCE, LAWNDALE COURT, SILVER SPRING, MD

[START]

LANDON: I’m back. Sorry I was away so long.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Boy, you missed a good one. Some drunk told us he was a minister and tried to pick us up.

LANDON: What? You’re kidding!

J. LANE: Nope. He was a little hard to understand through his accent, but I think he said he’d give either one of us a ton of money to do something unnatural with food coloring and honey.

LANDON: No way!

D. MORGENDORFFER: I didn’t know ministers had that kind of money. They must’ve taken up a hell of a collection this morning during services.

J. LANE: He was good looking, at least, about our age. Drunk, but dignified. Kinda sweet, if you could get over the minister part.

LANDON: I can’t believe you’re serious.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I wonder what church he’s in.

J. LANE: Yeah. I might join.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Too bad blue’s not my color. I could have used the extra cash.

LANDON: Blue? I don’t know. You’d look interesting with blue skin.

J. LANE: Hey, that’s what I told her, but does she listen to me? Nooo. . . .

LANDON: So, is this guy still around, or did he leave?

J. LANE: You’re interested? He’s over there. There by the punch bowl—brown suit, goatee, wineglass, delusions of grandeur.

LANDON: Oh! Raoul! He’s Brazil’s minister of finance. I know him.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: Raoul?

LANDON: He’s here to work out a trade dispute. He’s a great guy. He tried to pick you up?

D. MORGENDORFFER: That guy is the minister of finance for Brazil? Really?

LANDON: Yes. I met him two years ago during hearings.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Not a religious minister, but a minister of finance. And I thought he was drunk.

LANDON: Well, he probably is. I can’t believe he would hit on you, though.

J. LANE: Why? What’s wrong with us, other than our mental problems and criminal records?

D. MORGENDORFFER: He must have recognized us.

J. LANE: He could be a fan. I think we still have some.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Maybe we should, you know, apologize for telling him to jam—

J. LANE: Does he have a lot of money? Being a minister of finance?

LANDON: He’s pretty well off, personally, but the money he manages isn’t his. It’s Brazil’s.

J. LANE: But it could be ours, right?

LANDON: Yours? No, of course not!

J. LANE: I bet it could. Private property, public property—it’s interchangeable.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You think I’d look good in blue?

J. LANE: She said interesting, Daria, but you can go with that.

LANDON: I must have been drunk when I invited you guys.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We don’t have any honey back at the hotel.

J. LANE: We can get some on the way out, if he’ll wait. It’ll wash out with soap.

LANDON: Oh, shut up.

J. LANE: We’re trying to improve international relations! C’mon, help us out.

LANDON: You two are pure trouble. I knew I should’ve had the FBI keep watching you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: So, who called?

LANDON: What?

D. MORGENDORFFER: When you had to leave earlier. Who called?

LANDON: Oh. I guess I can say, long as no one overhears. I got a call from one of my contacts with Walter Reed.

J. LANE: What’s Walter do?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Jane, that’s the main hospital here.

J. LANE: I knew that! I was just trying to throw off anyone who was listening in.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Was this about Ivers?

LANDON: Yeah. The prognosis isn’t good.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh.

J. LANE: What does that mean? Is Ivers still the veep?

LANDON: Eh, yes and no. As she’s in a vegetative coma right now, I’d say no at this point. They couldn’t get her to the hospital in time yesterday to stop the bleeding and fix the damage. Everyone knew another stroke would be iffy.

J. LANE: That’s awful. She wasn’t even in office a year.

LANDON: She was okay. I hated her choice in shoes, but she was okay.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Any chance she’ll recover?

LANDON: Probably not with any intact memories. The President arranged to have a name sent to Congress for confirmation before he left for Montreal this evening.

D. MORGENDORFFER: So, he doesn’t think she’ll make it, either.

J. LANE: Whose name did he send?

LANDON: Richardson.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Richardson? The guy who wears that red suit, President pro tempore of the Senate? Isn’t he sort of a nutcase?

LANDON: He has some unusual views not shared by the majority of Americans, if that’s what you mean.

J. LANE: I think some of those views got him elected.

LANDON: Look at his home district. That explains a lot. I didn’t say that, by the way.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Didn’t say what?

J. LANE: I can’t see him as a Vice President. I can’t even see him as a dogcatcher.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I could see him as a dog, if you gave it rabies.

LANDON: He supposedly shares some opinions with Sanchez on domestic and foreign issues, though if you asked me which ones, I couldn’t tell you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Didn’t Richardson say we should annex Canada?

LANDON: He said that quote was taken out of context.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What context? He said the drought’s killing us, and we should attack Canada and take its farms.

LANDON: No, he said we should consider a more aggressive foreign policy to increase our arable farmland.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Which means, what?

LANDON: It means we should talk about something less explosive, like religion.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Jodie, come off it. You know what he meant.

LANDON: I know what he meant. I know exactly what he meant.

D. MORGENDORFFER: So?

LANDON: I’m working on it, okay? This isn’t the place to do it, and you’re not the people I should talk to about it, but I’m working on it. I’d just like to forget about it for one night and have a little fun.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Sorry.

J. LANE: Yeah, sorry about that.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You know how we get when we smell politics in the water.

LANDON: Forget it. I think Sanchez picked Richardson to keep the radical fringe of his party behind him. He probably knew Richardson wouldn’t get the vote. It was a bone to keep the other nutcases from running off and breaking his power base. I don’t care for Sanchez’s politics, but he’s pretty rational, most of the time. Clever, too. He’s a decent guy when he’s not stepping all over the . . . oh, forget it. Now I’m doing it.

J. LANE: You should have some breathing time, anyway, before Congress votes on Richardson. Things like this drag out a lot.

LANDON: Mmm.

D. MORGENDORFFER: LBJ went over a year without a veep when Kennedy was shot, and that was right after the Cuban Missile Crisis.

LANDON: Mmm.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Mmm?

LANDON: Nothing.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Nothing what? What did that mean when you said mmm?

J. LANE: Talk, Landon. Don’t make us put nasty things in your underwear drawer.

LANDON: We don’t live in the world of 1963. You know that.

J. LANE: So, you’re saying—

D. MORGENDORFFER: When is Congress supposed to vote on Richardson?

LANDON: It’ll come to the House tomorrow morning, and then it—

D. MORGENDORFFER: Tomorrow? You must be kidding.

J. LANE: Tomorrow, like tomorrow Monday?

LANDON: Yeah. I’m sure they’ll put in the nomination then. I could try to put off the vote by not recognizing anyone who might bring it up, but even if I only picked people from my own party, which would really piss off the other side plus the minor parties, anyway, there are people from my party who’ll bring it up. Avoiding it won’t help.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Can you do anything about the vote, then?

LANDON: It’s iffy because my party has a majority in the House of only two, but with Paletti sick, I’m stuck with throwing a tiebreaker vote if it splits along party lines and the minor parties pick other people, which I’m not sure they’ll do. I’d hate to do it, because my getting involved will really tick some people off, but it would be better than seeing Richardson in the number-two slot.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Heh heh heh, you said “number two.”

LANDON: What?

J. LANE: What?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Forget it. Old joke from some guys I knew.

LANDON: I got it. Richardson as a “number two” is about right. I think we’ll pull it off and dump him without too much trouble, but you never know. Sanchez might even thank me for it, if he can get someone he really wants.

D. MORGENDORFFER: This vote just seems really quick to me.

LANDON: It is. The other side’s pushing it hard.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Why so soon? Oh, wait. I get it.

J. LANE: What?

D. MORGENDORFFER: She’s next in line.

J. LANE: She . . . oh.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You are next in line, right? In succession? They haven’t changed that lately, have they? I mean, you’re next in line, you know, if the, um . . .

LANDON: That’s the way it’s supposed to work, yes. It won’t happen, though, so—

J. LANE: But with whatever’s happening with Ivers, if she can’t do it, you’re next in line to be president. Of the United States of America.

LANDON: Well, yeah, but with any luck at all, I’ll keep my present job and be able to sleep at night. A little.

J. LANE: Are you still next in line even though you aren’t in the same party as the president?

LANDON: Yes. That’s why they’re rushing the vote. End of story.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh.

J. LANE: Oh.

LANDON: Oh, what? Come on, knock it off. Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t look at me like that.

J. LANE: Okay.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Sure.

LANDON: Talk to me. I’m still Jodie from Lawndale. Come on. Let’s get some jumbo shrimp before everyone else finishes them off.

J. LANE: Uh, yeah. You sure you won’t be veep?

LANDON: How to put it tactfully . . . Sanchez doesn’t have any love for middle-of-the-road types messing up his agenda.

D. MORGENDORFFER: That sucks ass.

J. LANE: That’s life.

LANDON: That’s Washington, you mean.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What’s the prez in Ottawa for, anyway? Taking a last look around before we invade?

LANDON: Sweet Christmas, Daria!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Joke.

J. LANE: No one heard. I think.

LANDON: I sure as hell hope not! Don’t kid around like that. He went up to show solidarity with Burgess. Things are unsettled because of Quebec, so Sanchez went north to shake hands and show the smiley face. That’s all.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Aren’t the Canadians going to be pissed about Richardson?

LANDON: Burgess won’t like it, but he knows the score. Richardson will get tossed, at least if I have any say over it, and maybe Sanchez will pick someone more to their liking, like Lin or Hamrick. Lin’s parents were from Ottawa. I could live with him.

D. MORGENDORFFER: How are things in Canada now?

LANDON: Not too good. The Quebecers are steamed about their Supreme Court ruling that chopped up what they can take out of the confederation for their country. The Inuit and Cree lands and all the hydroelectric dams thereon went to the federal government. That will probably be made into another native-controlled province, like Nunavut. The native lands in the south might do the same. Plus, Montreal will pick up a huge debt burden, and some of its leaders want to ignore it, which would really screw them on the world markets. Some of the Maritime Provinces are mulling over joining the U.S. or forming their own union, but they just say that to scare everyone else and get a little attention. They’ll settle down. They’re not that crazy about us, really, but they’re really mad at Quebec for pulling out.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Would you support any of the provinces like Quebec, if it went independent or tried to join us?

LANDON: You remember when you interviewed me for “Good Mornings” and asked me about medical insurance legislation?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Uh, yeah?

LANDON: You sound exactly like that now.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh. Sorry to turn into a reporter again. I was just curious.

LANDON: I don’t want to get involved if I can help it. I personally don’t want to see the United States break up, even if the potential next king of Hawaii is a hunk. If I support a Canadian confederation breakup, I’ll fire a breakup here, too. That Cascadia thing damn near drove me crazy.

J. LANE: It happens no matter what we want. It happened to the Romans.

LANDON: We’re not the Romans. I don’t care how many times the Euros call us that, we’re not the Romans.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Half the states in the Union don’t want to recognize any of the laws passed by the others. It’s like everything’s slowly falling apart.

LANDON: That’s why I’m glad it’s Sanchez’s problem to be President and not mine. I have enough trouble governing the House.

J. LANE: If Hawaii left, we’d still have fifty states. We could use that old flag again.

LANDON: Yeah. Thank God for Puerto Rico.

D. MORGENDORFFER: That was a nice flag.

J. LANE: Symmetrical. Bold. Nice use of primary colors.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Familiar, yet strangely comforting.

LANDON: I don’t want to see Hawaii go. They have a nice ballet troupe in Honolulu. I like the way they mixed the native dancing in with it.

J. LANE: Oh. You reminded me of something. Daria, hold my drink.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Make Jodie hold it. I brought something, too.

J. LANE: Here.

LANDON: Hey!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Hold my drink, too.

LANDON: Do I look like the hired help?

J. LANE: Fine, I’ll give you a dollar.

LANDON: This had better be worth it.

J. LANE: It is. Tah-dah!

LANDON: Oh, my Lord! Where did you get that? Daria, hold these.

J. LANE: I was going to use it in a collage, but someone’s article on page three convinced me to save it, just in case. Here.

D. MORGENDORFFER: The Lawndale Lowdown, our old high-school paper.

LANDON: May 15th, 1998. My God.

J. LANE: Page three. Go to page three.

LANDON: Oh, no. Oh, no! You guys!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Great editorial.

J. LANE: “‘Living Up to Your Potential,’ by Jodie Landon, Honor Society President.”

D. MORGENDORFFER: Did you really want to be a ballerina?

LANDON: Oh, God.

J. LANE: I like this part: “Fun is a luxury you cannot afford.”

D. MORGENDORFFER: That was so absolutely Jodie.

LANDON: I will so absolutely kill you if you even breathe a word of this to anyone.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We made copies. If we turn up in a river somewhere, this gets spammed out to every net channel there is.

LANDON: Aaah! No!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Okay, we lied. This is the only copy left. We want to frame it for you.

LANDON: I swear, tomorrow morning I swear I am going to talk to the FBI about you two.

J. LANE: Tell them Daria cheats at Scrabble.

D. MORGENDORFFER: That was too a word! I even showed it to you in the dictionary!

J. LANE: No one’s used that word in five hundred years!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Well, I did!

J. LANE: Cheater, cheater, cheater!

LANDON: Excuse me, but you said you had else something for me?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh. Here.

J. LANE: Cheater.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Shut up.

LANDON: Is this a diary?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Yup. Mine, from when I was a sophomore, my first year at Lawndale. I wrote something about you, right here.

LANDON: “Jodie Landon, superstudent. Could possibly become this country’s first African-American and female president if the stress of being perfect doesn’t kill her first.” Well, it almost did kill me, and I’m not even the President. Not even perfect, either.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You’re close enough.

LANDON: Do I get to frame your diary, too?

D. MORGENDORFFER: No. I could get life in prison for some of the things I wrote in here.

LANDON: Where? Let’s see what else you’ve got in here.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Give me that! Hey!

LANDON: Oh, what’s this you wrote about Trent? You had a crush on him?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Damn it! Give me—

LANDON: Here. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. For shame.

J. LANE: Five shame, even.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You can both—damn, is that your phone or mine?

J. LANE: It’s not—

LANDON: Mine. Excuse me.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Sure.

J. LANE: Cheater.

LANDON: Speaker Landon. Is this Bill? Who is this?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Admit it, Lane. I kicked your ass with both boots.

J. LANE: I’ll never play with you again.

LANDON: What? Repeat that. What?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Double or nothing, next game.

J. LANE: Okay. Shhh. Wait.

LANDON: When did this happen? Is that Eastern or Central Time? Did you see it happen? Then, who did? Is it on the net? Where’s the President? Who saw him last, damn it? Why doesn’t anyone know? Was he in the building? Was he anywhere in the building, as far as anyone knows? Can you get me a picture? Send it to my residence, right now. My line’s secure, just send it. Call me when you’re ready. And call me when someone figures out where the President is! I have to know immediately!

J. LANE: Jodie?

LANDON: Wait! Mister Rovello! Mister Rovello, come here! We have to end the party, right now. Get everyone out of here, but if anyone from the Cabinet or the Joint Chiefs is present, bring them downstairs to my office at once. I saw the Secretary of State at the bar, make sure he’s there at least. Anyone from Congress, bring them, too. Everyone else, out, as fast and nicely as you can. Get everyone going.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Do you want us to—

LANDON: Wait. Are you two still active press?

J. LANE: Uh, no, our passes were revoked when the network—

LANDON: I know your security clearances are good. If you’re inactive, then you can stay, but you can’t be calling out and reporting what’s going on. I can’t have an unsecured transmission going out from here. Can you do that?

D. MORGENDORFFER: What happened?

LANDON: I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I find out. Can you sit on this?

J. LANE: Who are we going to tell? They fired us, remember?

D. MORGENDORFFER: We’re the outcasts. Again.

LANDON: Right. Stay here. Don’t drink too much at the bar.

J. LANE: There she goes. What do you think happened?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Nothing good.

J. LANE: Your phone still pick up scrambled transmissions?

D. MORGENDORFFER: I’m on it. Shhh.

J. LANE: Send it to my aural implant.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Okay. Oh. Oh, no.

J. LANE: Shhh.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Christ.

J. LANE: Daria? Are you getting video?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Shhh.

J. LANE: Let’s go to the bar. Pretend to drink something.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I won’t be pretending.

J. LANE: Is this on all the networks?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Fourteen of them have it. It’s on the main net now.

J. LANE: Let me see your video. I left my phone at the hotel.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I can’t tell what that is. Oh. It’s from Ottawa.

J. LANE: What’s that? Was that the hotel where—

D. MORGENDORFFER: Yes.

J. LANE: What happened to it?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Someone blew it up.

J. LANE: They what?

D. MORGENDORFFER: You know, I don’t feel very safe here right now.

J. LANE: Terrorists?

D. MORGENDORFFER: There was a group I read about, calling itself Manicouagan, after a lake in Quebec. Lemme look it up. I can’t remember how to spell . . . oh. Look.

J. LANE: A lake in an old asteroid crater?

D. MORGENDORFFER: I get it. The group’s named for the site of a big explosion.

J. LANE: You think it was them?

D. MORGENDORFFER: I don’t know. I don’t even know what they were all about.

J. LANE: Well, if they tried to kill the President, wouldn’t they try to—

D. MORGENDORFFER: Where’s Jodie? Where’d she go?

J. LANE: That way.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Look for the basement, hurry! I don’t think we should be—

J. LANE: Ow! Jeez, who turned on the siren?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Get down! Get d—

[SOUND OF EXPLOSION, THEN STATIC]

[END PART TWO]

* * *

PART THREE

TIME: 08/09/2037, 22:39:10 EDT

PLACE: LANDON RESIDENCE, LAWNDALE COURT, SILVER SPRING, MD

[START]

[MUFFLED BACKGROUND CONVERSATION THROUGHOUT]

D. MORGENDORFFER: Come on.

J. LANE: Sorry. Got any twos?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Hate you. Um . . . nines, finally?

J. LANE: Go fish. Wait, your bandage is coming loose. No, don’t. I’ll get it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Be careful.

J. LANE: I know. Hold still. Get your hands down.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Ow!

J. LANE: I didn’t even touch it!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Well, be careful!

J. LANE: Hold still . . . okay, there. No pain?

D. MORGENDORFFER: No. Sorry . . . and thank you.

J. LANE: No problem. Maybe we should stop for a while. I’m not up to playing anymore.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Quitter.

J. LANE: I guess. Whatever.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: Nothing. Everything. I dunno.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Are they still talking in the other room? I can’t hear anything except that damn whine.

J. LANE: Yeah. They just said the Marines have landed. They’re coming down on the street and in everyone’s front yard, all over the place. They’re trying to get to us through the debris.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Helicopters?

J. LANE: They came down with everything. Fire department’s up there, too. Big mess. Fires.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What else?

J. LANE: Shhh. They’re arguing about what to do. Jodie wants to stay put, Engelhard wants the Marines to move them out somewhere. They all think there might be another attack, another missile or something.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What kind of missile was it?

J. LANE: They don’t know. Maybe short range, like from a one-man, hand-held kind of launcher. Maybe automated. They don’t know. Hell of a warhead.

D. MORGENDORFFER: They know who did it?

J. LANE: I can’t tell. Don’t think so.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Anything else?

J. LANE: Nah.

D. MORGENDORFFER: So, how do I look?

J. LANE: You look good, amiga.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Liar.

J. LANE: You look awful, but you’re alive, so you look pretty good. Hold still. Your ear’s stopped bleeding.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Is Bingham still asleep? Jane? Hey, is Bingham—

J. LANE: No.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Is he listening to us? Steve?

J. LANE: He’s dead.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What? Dead?

J. LANE: He died a while ago, while you were resting. I covered him up. I didn’t want to look at him.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh. He was so quiet, I thought maybe—

J. LANE: Shhh.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: They’re talking again. Jodie’s talking to a general by phone or something. I think . . . it’s Chou, Joint Chiefs. Oh.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: Jodie just called herself the acting President of the United States.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You’re kidding. What the hell’s happening up there?

J. LANE: Shhh!

D. MORGENDORFFER: Well, damn it!

J. LANE: Stop it. “Decapitation.” She said that, and she said they blew up the hospital where Ivers was, too. She’s talking about . . .

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: Pacific . . . something about the Pacific. Jodie said DEFCON.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Oh, God.

J. LANE: Someone else just said Richardson did something. He declared himself President, but she says she is, Jodie did.

D. MORGENDORFFER: She’d have to be. He—

J. LANE: They . . . I can’t hear anything else. Sounds like someone closed a door. Damn it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: She’d have to be President. She’s next in line.

J. LANE: I know.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Richardson said he was President? What an idiot.

J. LANE: He might not know Jodie’s alive. Things sound pretty bad.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Jodie’s President of the United States. Oh, my God, did I just say that? Jodie’s the President. I can’t believe it.

J. LANE: Someone’s coming. Shhh, act natural.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What? Do what? Are you out of your fu—

LANDON: Hey, there.

J. LANE: Hey, Ms., um, sorry, Madam President.

LANDON: Looks that way, yeah, but call me Jodie, please. I needed to get out and get a little fresh air, so I came to check on you two. How’s she doing?

D. MORGENDORFFER: She’s fine. Lost an eye, maybe, bleeding here and there, but fine.

LANDON: Sorry, not much light in here. I didn’t know you were awake.

J. LANE: If she’s complaining, she’s awake, and vice versa.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Bite the big one. What’s going on, Jodie?

LANDON: A lot. Lot more in a few minutes, maybe.

J. LANE: Bad stuff?

LANDON: Very bad.

J. LANE: Stupid question.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Are we safe here?

LANDON: No, we’re not. We’re not safe anywhere anymore. I wish you two had stayed home.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Why? This is a great party. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

J. LANE: Did they swear you in?

LANDON: They didn’t have to. Succession is automatic.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Sanchez is dead?

LANDON: Yeah. Wait, that’s a thought. JFK did it. Be right back.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Jodie?

J. LANE: She went back to the other room.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Why?

J. LANE: I don’t . . . here she comes.

LANDON: I’m back. Here, see this?

D. MORGENDORFFER: No. My eye is watering.

J. LANE: She has a Bible, Daria.

LANDON: Can you see me now?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Sort of. You’re all blurry.

LANDON: Watch what I’m doing. Hand on Bible. I, Jodie Abigail Landon, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God. There, I did it for you two first. I’ll go do it for the others later.

J. LANE: You have my vote.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Aren’t you supposed to be running the country now?

LANDON: I am. I’m waiting on a call from the Joint Chiefs.

J. LANE: Why?

LANDON: To tell me if we need to go to war.

D. MORGENDORFFER: War with whom?

LANDON: China. They set us up, made it look like terrorists. They gave us a decapitation attack so we wouldn’t notice what they’re doing off Guam and a few other places. Got a little surprise for them, instead.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We’re going to war with China? Really?

J. LANE: I knew I should have worn my red gown. I just knew it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I can’t believe it. You can’t be serious.

LANDON: As serious as a terrorist on an airplane. I should be getting back in a minute.

D. MORGENDORFFER: You’re talking about war, like a whoosh, boom, clear the room, blow-up-the-world kind of war?

LANDON: That’s it. I just came to tell you that I love you guys.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Okay . . . you’ve never said you loved us before, so I guess that means—

LANDON: Time to be honest, in what time we’ve got left. I gotta go. Oh, and speaking of honest, I forgive you both for that fake exposé you did about space-alien slave laborers being forced to work in the tunnels under Capitol Hill. I still get mail about that, people asking me to free those poor aliens. You have no shame at all.

J. LANE: I stayed up two days straight thinking up that one.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Hey, I made up the fake documents. Give me credit.

LANDON: Bye, you two. You’re the best.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Bye . . . is she gone?

J. LANE: She’s gone. I love you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I know. I love you, too.

J. LANE: I know.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Let’s not overdo it.

J. LANE: I was just thinking that of all the things we’ve ever done for ratings, this is the worst.

D. MORGENDORFFER: We didn’t do this for ratings. We did this to schmooze around D.C. and try for our fourth comeback.

J. LANE: Didn’t work, I guess.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Yeah. The alien slave-laborer thing was pretty bad, too, though. She was right.

J. LANE: It boosted our ratings a little.

D. MORGENDORFFER: But it was bad.

J. LANE: Yeah. I’m sorry I said you cheated at Scrabble, amiga.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I did cheat. I’m really sorry. I redid that dictionary page on my computer so I wouldn’t lose the points. I scanned it, changed it, printed out the page, and stuck it in before I showed you.

J. LANE: You what?

D. MORGENDORFFER: I did.

J. LANE: And I baked that pizza for you because I was sorry I called you a cheater, and you were the real cheater?

D. MORGENDORFFER: Yes. I’m sorry.

J. LANE: I kind of wish you hadn’t told me that . . . but now that you have, and we’re probably about to die, I forgive you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I feel really bad.

J. LANE: Good, I’m glad. Don’t confess to anything else, please. This isn’t the time for it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I—

J. LANE: Shut up! Just shut up, don’t talk! Okay, thank you, better. If you start confessing, then I will, and we’re not ready for that yet.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Okay.

J. LANE: Oh, screw it. I drank that carbonated apple juice on purpose because you snored so much.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I thought so. Bitch.

J. LANE: I deserve it. Shame about that picture we gave her.

D. MORGENDORFFER: What?

J. LANE: The school paper we framed. Blown all to pieces upstairs, probably.

D. MORGENDORFFER: She liked it, though. Nothing lasts forever. . . . Jane, hold my hand.

J. LANE: Okay. Love you.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Overdoing it.

J. LANE: Ha. Wonder if we’re being recorded. Jodie’s the kind who’d do that. Just like Nixon, only nicer.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I hope she didn’t. I don’t want to listen to this at my next birthday party as a gag.

J. LANE: I can’t think of any good advice to give to anyone listening to this crap years from now, if they dig us up.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Stay in school, kids.

J. LANE: Marry your best friend.

D. MORGENDORFFER: And only your best friend.

J. LANE: Amen.

D. MORGENDORFFER: And don’t cheat at Scrabble.

J. LANE: I still can’t believe . . . shhh. I hear sirens again, upstairs. Lots of them.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I hear them.

J. LANE: We’re next in line, I think. This is it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I think so. Hell of a party.

J. LANE: The best.

D. MORGENDORFFER: I love you.

J. LANE: Overdoing it.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Not anymore.

J. LANE: I love you, too.

D. MORGENDORFFER: Amiga.

J. LANE: Ami—

[SOUND OF EXPLOSION, END OF RECORDING]

Original: 11/05/06 (begun 03/22/04); modified 11/04/08, 05/05/10

FINIS