Distraction - Bruce Sterling [156]
“You need to get to know my friend Kevin,” he said. “Kevin’s a diamond in the rough.”
“Okay. Sure. I like a man who sticks up for his friends,” Burningboy said. “But that’s the real reason we’re here now, Oscar. You’re the only man in this place who can talk sense to us. You’re the only one who even knows what’s going on.”
10
Oscar now worked for the President of the United States. His new position was enormously helpful in dealing with two thousand naive scientists inside a dome in East Texas. As a practical matter, however, it merely added a new layer of complexity to Oscar’s life.
Oscar swiftly discovered that he was not, in fact, the National Security Council’s official Science Adviser. A routine security check by the White House krewe had swiftly revealed Oscar’s personal background problem. This was a serious hitch, as the President did not currently employ anyone who was a product of outlaw South American genetic engineering. Given the circumstances, hiring one seemed a bad precedent.
So, although Oscar had obediently resigned his Senate committee post, he failed to achieve an official post with the National Security Council. He was merely an “informal adviser.” He had no official ranking in the government, and did not even receive a paycheck.
Despite the President’s assertion, no “crack U.S. Army personnel” arrived in Buna. It seemed that a Presidential order had been issued, but the Army deployment had been indefinitely delayed due to staffing and budget problems. These “staffing and budget problems” were certainly likely enough—they were chronic in the military—but the deeper problems were, of course, political. The U.S. Army as an institution was very mulish about being ordered into potential combat against American civilians. The U.S. Army hadn’t been involved in the gruesome and covert helicopter shoot-out on the banks of the Sabine River. The Army wasn’t anxious to take the political heat for trigger-happy spooks from the NSC.
As a sop to propriety, Oscar was told that an NSC lieutenant colonel would soon arrive, with a crack team of very low-profile Marine aviators. But then the lieutenant colonel was also delayed, due to unexpected foreign-policy developments.
An American-owned fast-food multinational had accidentally poisoned a number of Dutch citizens with poorly sterilized hamburger meat. In retaliation, angry Dutch zealots had attacked and torched several restaurants. Given strained Dutch-American relations, this was a serious scandal and close to a casus belli. The President, faced with his first foreign-policy crisis, was blustering and demanding reparations and formal apologies. Under these circumstances, military disorder within the U.S. was not an issue that the Administration cared to emphasize.
These were all disappointments. However, Oscar bore up. He was peeved to be denied a legitimate office, but he wasn’t surprised. He certainly wasn’t under the illusion that the presidency worked any better than any other aspect of contemporary American government. Besides, there were distinct advantages to his questionable status. Despite the humiliations, Oscar was now far more powerful than he had ever been before. Oscar had become a spook. Spookhood was doable.
Oscar swiftly made himself a factor with the new powers lurking in the basement below the Oval Office. He studied their dossiers, memorized their names and the office flowcharts, and asserted himself in the organization by humbly demanding favors. They were small, easily granted favors, but they were carefully arranged so that a failure to grant them was sure to provoke a turf war in the White House staff. Consequently, Oscar got his way.
He resolved one nagging problem by obliterating the local police force. He had the Collaboratory’s captive police flown out of Texas in an unmarked cargo helicopter. They were transferred to a federal law enforcement training facility