Distraction - Bruce Sterling [74]
Nakamura was a Right Tradition Bloc man, from the Economic Freedom Party. The EcFreeds pulled a twelve percent voter share, putting them well ahead of their bloc’s junior partners, the Christian Democratic Union and the antifeminist Ladies’ Party. Oscar considered the EcFreeds to be profoundly mistaken politically, but at least they were consistent in their errors. The EcFreeds were players.
Nakamura touched Oscar’s jacket shoulder, a tender little act of political palpation. “I’m eager to hear your report on the Buna Collaboratory, Oscar. I’m sure you’ve been busy there.”
“These are difficult times, sir.”
“All the more reason to assure some stability during the new Administration’s transition period.”
“I fully concur,” Oscar riposted at once. “Continuity, and a firm hand in the lab’s administration, would be extremely helpful now. Prudence. Nothing hasty.”
Nakamura nodded reflexively, then frowned. For a moment, Oscar thought he had overdone it. Nakamura had twenty years of recorded public appearances in the federal files. Oscar had taken the trouble to have the man’s speech patterns analyzed, ranked, and sorted. Nakamura was especially fond of the terms “prudence” and “continuity,” with “helpful” and “a firm hand” on strong upward trends lately. Verbally mimicking Nakamura was a cheap net-trick, but like most such tricks, it usually worked.
Eight more people came through the doors. These were committee staffers Namuth and Mulnier, with their joint entourage of six krewepeople, who had brought pizza, coffee, and falafel. The aroma of fast food filled the dank, rust-smelling room with a cheering scent of human survival.
Nakamura gratefully sampled a pita sandwich. The senior staffer seemed more relaxed now that the gruesome squat had filled with familiar faces. “Namuth and Mulnier are all right,” he murmured. “Staffers who take the pains to attend a mere conferral face-to-face … they do tend to be all right.”
“Tell me, sir—is this just a conferral, or is it a conference per se?”
Nakamura looked pained as he chewed and swallowed. “Well, of course an actual conference would have the legislators in attendance. Or at least their leading office krewe staff, their chiefs of staff, for instance. And of course there are committee meetings, and then subcommittee and committee hearings, generally with sworn witnesses and full coverage.… However, in the modern legislative trend, the drafting of legislation and the budget preparation have fallen to the staff committees. Actual senatorial hearings have become highly mediated events, very formal. It follows that we staffers must have our own conferences. And then, behind those formal scenes, we do find it procedurally necessary to have these conferrals.”
Nakamura examined his collapsing sandwich and tucked in a wad of sprouts with one fingertip. “We called this event a ‘conference,’ because that’s necessary in order to get the personnel chits and travel rebates. And we do get better security service. This entire building, as you must have noticed, is sadly insecure.”
Oscar, once certain that Nakamura’s lips had stopped moving, leaned gently forward. “I know that we can’t hold truly formal hearings until the Senate convenes. As a novice junior staffer, I’m not eager to take on that challenge until I’m much better briefed. Frankly, I look to you for some helpful guidance and continuity there.”
Nakamura accepted this remark with a graceful nod.
“I’ve been on the ground at the Collaboratory, sampling opinion.… Since Senator Dougal’s mishaps, the rumor mills there have been grinding overtime. Morale is shaky.”
“ ‘Shaky’?”
“The situation might stabilize, I think, if they received some reassuring gestures from Washington.”
Nakamura eyed his other colleagues. Namuth and Mulnier were swilling iced coffees, tapping lackadaisically at screens, and paying them no real attention. This did not surprise Oscar, who had written off both Namuth and Mulnier after closely