Rook: Allie's War, Book One
Chapter Two: Awake
I hunched over an espresso maker, trying to get the metal coffee filter with the pressed coffee crammed inside to fit in the groove. I got it hooked somehow, managed to turn the handle a quarter turn, but it stuck there and wouldn't budge.
In the background, I listened to the television over the bar. There, our recently-elected president spoke over the flash of cameras and odd cheer or laugh from the crush of reporters ringing him like fans at a rock concert.
The media used a parade of what my grandmother would have called "dimestore words" whenever they described President Daniel Caine. He was never just President Caine; he was "charismatic, bold in speech, forty-something President Caine exuding reassurance, his dark chestnut hair shining as he speaks from the White House lawn, the flowers of overhanging trees blending with the honey-blond of his wife's hair. We only wish we could show you his real appearance so you could see how presidential he truly looks..."
That kind of thing.
Refocusing on the espresso maker, I finally got the filter off and hooked on the machine. Clicking it on, I waited for the red light, glancing up at the line of blue suits on the television. I noticed the scarf at the blond woman's throat, the flash of teeth as the man's avatar rocked his head back in a laugh.
I'd never really followed politics, but Caine, the new national obsession, was hard to ignore.
Most of my gal pals found him clinically "hot." I don't know how they could tell, honestly, since we only ever saw avatars.
Even Jon liked him, and Jon didn't like politicians...at least not successful ones. Liberals liked him. So did right-wingers. I found myself riveted whenever Caine spoke, but couldn't say I liked him exactly.
Still, I had to admit, the guy wasn't anything like our last president.
Like anyone, he had to wear avatars when appearing in the public feeds. The rumor was, those avatars weren't far off from his real appearance, though...hardly the norm for celebrities and politicians. He wore just enough to remain legal, in fact. Meaning, enough that seers wouldn't be able to track him, and national security and the fate of the human world wouldn't hang in the balance as a result.
He didn't even change his age, or make himself ridiculously handsome like most did. The press corp rumor was that he actually looked better in person.
"...I have every hope here, fellas." Caine smiled and I felt the exact flavor of exuded warmth. "...That this new agreement will establish real stability in a previously turbulent part of the world. Create friends and trusted neighbors out of those who in the past were our enemies." He paused for just the right beat of time. "You don't think we're going to let a few screwballs get in the way of that, now do you...?"