2030_ The Real Story of What Happens to America - Albert Brooks [18]
But when he became a candidate, Bernstein started to get the same briefings as the president. This was the information that had to be perceived as real. To paraphrase Nixon, “If the president hears it, it must be true.”
What he wasn’t told was what the president already knew. He was only privy to what was happening at the moment, but the real stuff, the stuff that a president had to take office to find out—that was still out of reach.
After the election, around November 20, Bernstein was told that he was to go on a week’s retreat to a beautiful spa on the Cayman Islands. His wife was allowed to come, and he was told this would be about “filling in” details. He knew of these retreats—they were given to all incoming presidents—but he had had no idea, no idea at all, what he was about to hear.
It started out slowly. The first day was basically rest and relaxation, along with the daily briefing, which now took on an air of more significance. The candidate had been told for many months of the current threats and future threats and potential threats, but he was never given serious enough information in case he lost the election. From November 8 onward, the briefings got longer, and more privileged, but it was still nothing like the week he was about to have.
In the first official meeting on the Caymans, Bernstein sat down with three men, two in military uniform and one dressed in a suit. One of the military men started by asking him if he had any questions. Were there things he had always wondered about that were never satisfactorily answered?
“My God,” Bernstein said. “Are you kidding? Where do I start?”
“Fire away, Mr. President-elect. We’re at your service.”
“Okay. Here’s something I’ve always wondered. Did spacemen ever land here? What was Area Fifty-one?”
The man in the suit laughed.
“That’s almost everyone’s first question. No, Mr. President-elect, no one has landed here. There are no space creatures hidden anywhere, but something did go on in Area Fifty-one. The United States was testing an entirely new way of flight propulsion, and it was saucer-shaped. It crashed. People saw that. And the government at the time decided that an alien story was far better for our national security than to let our enemies suspect we had even a remote knowledge of what we were trying to accomplish.”
“What kind of propulsion was it?” Bernstein asked.
No one said anything. After a few seconds one of the military men spoke. “No one here is qualified to answer that, sir, but we will get someone to explain it to you.”
Bernstein just blinked. Was this whole week a waste of time? Were they going to tell him some things but not others? His next question was “Who really runs this country?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Who really controls this country?”
“You do, sir, starting in January.”
“I don’t believe that. There must be continuity that has nothing to do with presidents. Who has the ultimate power in the United States?”
“The Supreme Court?” one of the military men asked.
“This is not a test,” Bernstein said. “I’m asking you a question. Maybe the right way to put it is, is there a shadow government?”
The man who had given him the answer to the Area 51 question smiled.
“No, sir. There are very wealthy individuals and family dynasties that have controlled a great part of the world for hundreds of years, but they do not, as far as I know, have greater power than the government.”
“As far as you know?”
“Yes, sir, as far as I know.”
“Who killed John Kennedy?”
“Lee Harvey Oswald, sir?”
“Okay.” The President-elect got out of his chair and went to get a glass of water. “So those were my three questions. Why don’t you talk now?”
He wondered if these men were the ones who knew the secrets and, if they did, were they telling him? And if they didn’t, why wasn’t