2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [17]
People were slowly moving toward two very haggard-looking nurses sitting behind a glass partition. There was also an S-shaped wheelchair line. Fifteen people who couldn’t even walk wheeling around their own ropes. Kathy kept looking at the crowd to see if she could find her father. “I don’t think we’re in the right place,” she said.
“Did they say he was here?”
“They said he was in the hospital.”
“I don’t think we have to wait in this line. Let’s go to admissions.”
They went into the main entrance and there was a line there, too, but a much smaller one. When they got up to the admissions desk, Kathy told a woman who she was and the woman repeated the information into her headset. She waited for the answer on the screen below her. After a moment she said, “Are you the next of kin?” Kathy was panicked. That sounded devastating.
“Yes.”
“He’s in surgery.”
“What?! Why?”
“I can’t give you that information. Please sit over there and someone will come and talk to you.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t have that information. Someone will come and talk to you.”
Brian lost it. “Jesus Christ, what are you good for? How much do they fucking pay you?”
Fortunately for Brian, the woman behind the desk did not respond. Someone newer might have had him arrested. Behavior that could get you thrown off planes decades earlier now got you thrown out of every public building in America. People just didn’t take outbursts. They would call security at the slightest hint of anger. There was so little human-to-human contact now that people were just not used to a display of actual emotions; it all came across as hostile.
“Come on,” Kathy said, taking his arm, “let’s sit down.”
She and Brian waited for what seemed to be thirty minutes before a woman in a business suit came out of the elevator and walked over to them. “Are you Miss Bernard?”
“Yes.” Kathy was scared.
“Is this your husband?”
“No, my friend. He drove me.”
“I’m Sue Norgen. I’m with the hospital administration. Normally I just talk to family members.”
“Why? Is he dead?”
“No, he is just out of surgery. He will be okay.”
“Thank God,” Kathy said. She reached for Brian’s hand and squeezed it so tight he thought she would break it.
“We need to discuss some issues,” Sue told her. “If you’ll follow me, we can go to my office.”
“Can I see him?”
“He can’t have any visitors now. He’s in intensive care.”
“Oh my God! That’s bad, right?”
“That’s where everyone goes after surgery.”
Kathy realized that she still had no idea what was going on. She couldn’t believe so much time had gone by and she still knew nothing.
“What happened to him?”
“He was shot.”
Kathy thought she was going to pass out, but instead tears poured from her eyes. Brian put his arm around her and Sue Norgen extended her cold hand, offering zero comfort. “He’s going to be all right, dear, that’s the important thing. Would you like a cold drink?” Kathy nodded. “Let’s go to my office and we can discuss everything.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
People always wonder about the transition period of the American presidency. What exactly happens during the two and a half months between winning and taking office? What does the new president find out that he or she hadn’t known before? For Matthew Bernstein, it was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. He was given security briefings when he was officially the candidate, and those by themselves gave him pause. They were certainly more detailed and authoritative than the available news of the day.
There were no trusted sources of newsgathering anymore, no voice of one news organization or one reporter that people believed over another. It was a combination of professionals, amateurs, citizens, gossip, pictures fed to a world from billions of handheld devices; a whole slew of information that people had to somehow slog