The other day I was on the beach. I had waded out to about knee deep in the water. It was cold but that’s what I wanted. I wanted a shock to tell me that I was still alive. I wanted some sort of sensation. I thought I wanted a phone call. And along the wind and the ripping waves I took a long look at my life. I was soaked, not as much from the water as from my own realizations. I’m not a communal person. I don’t socialize. There were a few kids running along the beach. I watched them from the distance. They were so young and so vibrant and I was that crazy guy up to his knees in water and fully dressed. I kept my eyes on the kids and walked out of the water. My pace picked up and before I knew it I was running.
You wouldn’t believe the things that go through your mind when you’re running. The more I thought, the faster I ran. I just kept going. My whole life rolled before me, and my lungs burned the chilly air stabbing at my throat and shredded into my being. My shoes lost that salt water edge and seemed to bond to my feet as they pounded the pavement. I couldn’t find hills high enough to weigh my legs down despite the heavy, twisted shape the bottom half of my pants had forged. And as I panted and ran further, my veins throbbed and my legs pleaded with me just to stop. I must have looked ridicules in khaki pants and a fashionable shirt that would have looked great on Jules. I finally found a hill top where I could sit and see the entire ocean spread out before me. I sat down and wrapped my arms around my knees. My heaving chest pressed against my knees, and I smiled. I wasn’t thinking about anything at all. My mind was blank and I was happy. I was happy being alone. Again.
Old Sammy
“That’s absolutely horrible. And you said Jason found you?”
“Yes. I’m still a bit shaky. A bit weak. But it was close, Jules. Someone out there was scared and they wanted to get rid of me.”
“Well, you are standing up against the Duke.”
“There is a bit in there that I don’t understand. There’s a feeling I’m picking up, not everyone over there is too thrilled with Danilo,” Susan paused on the phone, “Marques could have killed me, but he didn’t. He shot me to the moon with thiopental sodium-,”
“With what?”
“Truth serum. So, I’m a bit cloudy about some of the questions. But, he was digging.”
“About?”
“Something to do with Joanna.”
“What?”
“I know. I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I’ll get in touch with you when I can.”
“Of course.” Jules looked up as he heard the door open and shut. “Sammy’s here.”
“How is…who?”
“A human. He’s…he knows. About us, about them, about the whole situation.”
“How?” Susan’s voice quivered slightly.
Jules didn’t respond right away. He snuck around a corner and watched as the human trudged up to the couch he was calling home. “He saved Nathan Wilde’s life. He’s a good kid, worn out and broken down, but a good kid.”
“Can we…?”
“Do we have a choice?”
“No, I guess you’re right. But I’m going to lie down now, I’m still recovering from my little self-imposed detox.”
“Is that stuff addictive?”
“No, but it’s not gentle either.”
“Okay Susan, you take care.”
“Of course Jason, you do the same. I’ll be in touch.”
“Bye.”
Jules pressed power on the phone and slipped over to the computer. He sat down and opened his web browser. The house was silent behind him. He clicked his way into a plane ticket to
The cup of coffee sat black and pure. Potts hovered over it like a moth to a flame, an addict to a needle. He needed that coffee after the day he’d gone through. It had been spent almost entirely in
“Well, this is a hell of a legacy to inherit,” Bush had quipped on the ride back.
“Not something your father left you now, is it?” The
“No. And it will certainly make for an interesting first hundred days. You know how much of a deal the media makes out of those.”
“Oh, they make a big deal out of everything.”
From that moment on, Potts was directly shut out from all the on-goings. Of course, he had a certain insight into what went on. Political dealings seem to parallel high school. People stay the same, only the stakes grow higher. Here it was the fate of numbers, not friends. Jeremy lived in the limbo that was a change of command. Bush was calling the shots here, and Potts had no inside track. He didn’t know what was going on, but he did know that these things, these Golems, were not human. They are a threat. They are a threat to the American way of life. They simply aren’t human.
Bush had fallen in with his council. Jeremy was left with a sick feeling, he wasn’t part of that council and never before had he wanted so much to be part a group. He wanted the truth that was so much a part of life. He wanted the truth so bad, but all he got was the parcels of secrets that people associated with Bush would give him. It was not fair. But, Jeremy Potts was a strong man. He’d played this game for a long time. He was used to this by now. Bush had a plan under foot. As much as Potts saw the media criticizing this man, on that helicopter Jeremy saw a man who would always have a plan. He was critical, he was manipulative, he was to lead the greatest nation on Earth through one of the most politically difficult moments in all of history.
Undisclosed Location
George Pruent cracked a smile for the first time in days as he hung up the phone which had been his lifeblood. Life and freedom hung in the balance.
“These are trying times,” George had said over and over again. And in truth they were. These times threatened all that the Golem people held dear. They had their lives, they had their own semblance of freedom, and now their liberties were held up in the air. The word had spread quickly. Two Golems had been captured, taken in the raid on the Townsquare Complex, and now Man knew. And now Man knew. These times were dangerous times, and the currents were flowing. The Golem people needed to be flowing too.
George struck a match and touched flame to a Marlboro Red. The first inhale, the pure smoke, greeted him. He drew it in deeply. It was pure in its taint. It was strong, and right now he needed that strength. Anger and betrayal, they were the concepts that he had lived on, thrived on for so many years now. Yet today he dealt more in the truth, and subsequently more in danger, than ever before. The Golem Council, the doctrine that the Golems had lived under for so long, now was useless. They were archaic and antique. They were slow and indecisive. The Golem people needed to present a strong front, a solid formation to greet the man-made world which threatened them. They needed to gel like man and wife and greet the world, which never knew them. They needed to form a proper eulogy for a world which was now dead. The Earth that Man inhibited was dead. Long live the world of three races.
This was Nathan’s dream, not George’s. He wanted so much to be angry, but he couldn’t. He had to keep going, to keep fighting. George knew he had to adjust and each drag of his cigarette drew him closer and closer to that point. He didn’t necessarily want to fight Nathan’s fight, but circumstances beyond his control had made the fight his own. Now he was left to deal with that fight. Damn Nathan, damn him and all he stood for. Damn him for being right. Maybe that’s what was bothering George, everything was falling into what Nathan wanted, but Nathan wasn’t going to get the credit for this, George was. George was the one who had been on the phone and orchestrated this all. George was the one who was planning the rebellion. He didn’t feel like it was his rebellion. He felt like it was Nathan’s, only he wasn’t here. And now the right thing, the credit due to who was right, was no longer affordable. It didn’t fit into life’s budget. George had to carry this flag, the Golem guidon was his to carry. Damn that flag was heavy, but it was one that was charging forward. Only time would tell if George’s fight would be for naught. Damn life, damn it and its lack of certainty.
The team was assembled about a long table, dressed again in plain black suits and once-starched white shirts. Their eyes were circled and dark. Their hands fidgeted around cups of black coffee. The florescent lights pounded away furiously at them, flickering and humming as no one said anything. A set of nervous fingers drummed, only to be interrupted by the squeak of leather shoes and the slight screech of sole on tile. The door clicked open and then closed very quickly as a rather mild-looking man entered. He could have been a school teacher in his unobtrusive glasses and receding hairline. The man slipped a large manila file-folder onto the table top and took a seat at the head. He paused to look over the team.
“I’m here to tell you that you are all clean and at this moment you’ve just been officially out-processed from here. You’re direct superior has been contacted and at this point all of you are on two weeks of medical leave.”
“And?” Rudisill cut in with heavy
“Well, there is also the matter of the non-disclosure forms.”
“There is the answers to what you found out,” Price wasn’t happy as he twisted his cup about so that the ceramic mug handle was pointed accusingly at the bureaucrat.
“If you would all sign at the bottom. These forms are all standard, holding you liable for any statement you make, be it to the press or private, until authorized to do so by an appropriate-,”
“Wait. We’re liable for something that we don’t even know about? That’s fucked up.” Johnny Shaw was not pleased, and it was evident in his calling bull-shit.
“Yeah, I think you owe us some answers.” Washkowiak leaned forward as he spoke, looming over his cup.
“I’m not authorized to give you answers. You’ve all been playing this game long enough to know that my hands are tied.”
“Well shit, I’m not signing that thing then. Man, you don’t trust us, why should we trust you? Who the hell are you anyways?” Somehow Juan managed to get all that out through a smile. Everyone on the team knew that he was serious. Were they not grown men they would have stamped a chorus of “yeah”s and “me too”s onto the end of his rather bold statement. Again, the meek man blinked and lowered his eyes down to the folder in front of him.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he mumbled as he turned. Again his leather shoes squeaked and his slight shoulders stooped as the bureaucrat slipped from the room.
“All right, what the hell is going on here?” Bach contained his volume but not his emotion, he was clearly angry.
“We’re not letting the man screw us here, boss,” Timmy piped up for the first time in the conversation.
“Seriously Bach, this situation is all fucked up. First, we stumble upon some X-Files shit and now we’re not even allowed to know what it was and we’ll be arrested if we talk about it? That doesn’t sound too apple pie to me.” Denny eased back into his chair, trying to relax.
“I understand that. But you all know as well as I do that there are certain channels that these things have to go through. Like whoever that was pointed out, none of us are new at this game. We’ve all spent a few years helping out Uncle Sam and now is one of those time when you just have to suck things up and take it.”
“If it’s all the same with you, boss, I’ve done enough sucking these last few days when we were dressed in plastic, you know? I’m tired of this game. I just want some fucking answers.”
“Ramos-,” Bach was cut off shortly after he got the Nicaraguan’s name out by the door clicking open. The school teacher-faced fellow found the back of his chair again, and that same manila file-folder was set down onto the table. This time he didn’t sit, he merely loomed.
“So?” Ramos shrugged as he slunk to sit canted sideways in his chair, one arm tossed over its back. “What’s up?”
The mild-mannered fellow took a deep breath and looked very carefully down at the table in front of him.
“My name is Chris Emmerson, and I work for a government agency tentatively called the Department of Inter-Specie Affairs. DISA won’t be official until after Bush takes office, and as of yet, I’m one of three people it employees.”
“What the fuck?”
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Go ahead,” Bach nodded as he sent a warning glance over the rest of the team seated around the table.
“What you found in sewers beneath the Townsquare was something entirely unknown, a race that has somehow managed to elude mankind for centuries, possibly longer. They call themselves Golems and at this time we have two in custody. You were subjected to an extensive battery of tests to ensure that your contact with this species did not contaminate you with some sort of disease that the human immune system is incapable of dealing with.”
“So the government had no idea about these things?”
“No.”
“How extensive, I mean, how many of them are there?”
“The one known settlement could have held in excess of a thousand Golems.”
“How close to human are they?”
“Without a full autopsy we won’t know for sure. They seem to be taller than we are with a white membrane over their eyes. As noted, their ears are elongated and protrude from their heads five or six inches. Their teeth are triangular in shape, not used for grinding which all seems suggests a subterranean existence.”
“Do they speak English?”
“Yes.”
“They were wearing human clothes.”
“Yes, they were. And carrying human weapons, not to mention American currency.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yes, I hope you now see the gravity of this situation.”
“Just one more question, what do they want?”
“We don’t know. That very question will most likely be one of the charter goals for the DISA. I brought some pens, and as I said before, if you’d just sign at the bottom.”
Jules had been in the city of lights for nearly two hours now. He’d already settled into a hotel suite and changed into a fresh set of clothes. He blended right into the trendy European scene with his slick choice of earth-tones and cutting, almost ferocious, attractiveness that seemed to focus on the lazy cigarette that perched on his thin lip. A slight breeze caught his hair as he tossed his cigarette onto the weather-washed concrete of the step. The aged sign simply translated to “bath house,” but this building was known throughout
He shed his long coat and scarf at the door, checking into one of the small and private changing rooms. Very shortly he exited the stall clad in only a towel, his almost surreal Siren skin beading under the ambient humidity. With water on it, his skin looked that much more unreal, that much more like plastic, that much more fake. Jules passed through a second doorway into the main bathing room.
Inside there was a large central pool with a series of smaller pools, one at each of its four corners. The main pool drifted down in an almost conical fashion, the middle being the deepest portion with the edges not deep enough to cover the bottom half of a man’s legs. The exterior pools, where Jules managed to spot the second half of his modest meeting, were all an even four feet deep: deep enough to wade in, deep enough to drown in, but not really deep enough to swim in.
Danilo Metucchi sat naked at the side of the far pool. Beside him, waded up in a ball, was a richly white towel. Amidst the wafting steam and rushing water, he seemed to drift despite sitting totally still. His features seemed even more acute, more snake-like from a distance, as did his musculature as he sat with his arms shot out and holding him up. He was thin, he was lethal, and he was coiled ready to strike.
“Give no quarter, expect none in return,” Jules mumbled in a distinct British accent as he directed himself towards the Duke. Jules came to the opposite side of the ten by ten pool, shed his towel, and slid into the very-warm water. The Duke didn’t move from his perch on the corner.
“You bring news?” Danilo’s French was still plagued by an Italian accent. The pairing was almost charming, but completely disconcerting.
“I bring information, in return for a favor.”
“What makes you think I want this,” the Duke paused as he leaned forward from his perch and slid into the water. His plastic-skin submerged to mid-chest. He hovered near the wall, “…information that you bring?”
“I’ve got a reliable source.”
“Oh is that so?” That snake smile flashed sending the flicker of a struck match to his dark Italian eyes. Jules just nodded. “And I should do you a favor because?”
“The favor would benefit both of us.”
“You do not know what will benefit both of us.” Anger riled across the tightly packed and bound muscles of the Duke as he recoiled. His fist clenched and unclenched beneath the water.
“I know you seek Joanna. And I know that the Hatter’s Guild does as well.”
“Oh, you know, do you?” The Duke started to pace along the wall. Jules began to circle with him. Slowly, both twitched and fidgeted from foot to foot.
“And I’ve found her.”
The Duke issued no response verbally, rather, his neck and shoulders seemed to stand up, the muscles pressing against this plastic skin. This was so unlike the Duke. He was close to the edge. Apparently things weren’t running as smoothly as he’d have liked.
“Who?” He whispered, his words quickly taken away by the rushing water.
“Not until you promise me.”
“Who?”
“I want Hector dead. I want who ever tried to blackmail me dead. I want the negatives to those pictures. And I went their bodies to burn.” Jules’ eyes were blinded by the fire in them as the Duke leapt in wash of water across the small divide. One large hand wrapped about Jules’ throat while the other pressed thumb and forefinger into Jules’ temples.
“Who?” The Duke was frantically hissing through gritted teeth.
“Promise me,” Jules eked out as he pried the Duke’s hands away. He held the Duke by the wrists. “I could kill you now, but that won’t solve anything. You want to off Joanna because she’s a threat to you. Hector is as well. The Hatter’s Guild wants to control you.” Jules shoves the Duke back across the pool.
“Is it that easy to read?” The Duke panted in broken French.
“The weight of our world does not leave one without scars, nor without enemies. We’ve all been doing this too long. It’s time that things started to truly change. We can start with removing the cancer that is the Hatter’s Guild. We can start by removing Joanna.”
“Who is she?”
“An actress, Beth Meyers.”
“How…?”
“She just got too big for her little pond. She wanted more. No one was going to give her
“Are you sure?”
Jules nodded.
“Then Hector is dead.”
The apartment was dark. No kids or wife to return to, Warren Bach did his best to leave his work at the door. He tugged at his tie and tossed his keys onto the small table next to the door. He flicked a light on and the apartment flickered into a soft-yellow warmth. It was drastically empty and oddly haunting.
` “Agent Bach, you might remember me from a conversation I had with a mutual acquaintance. I’ve received word that you have a few of my people…”
In disbelief he stared at the name and number over and over again, memorizing it almost on accident. He looked at the phone and then at the number. He closed his eyes, opened them, and then looked at the clock. It was eleven minutes after
“I thought you’d call.”
“Who are you?”
“Agent Bach, you called me, shouldn’t you know?”
“The man in the wheel chair?”
“I think you know.”
“What’s this all about?”
“I’m sure we’ve both got many questions for each other. Here are the rules: we take turns. I ask a question, you answer. Then it’s your turn. Is that fair?”
“I’d much rather do this in person.”
“We’re not at that stage now. My terms are final, take them or hang up now. This number won’t be active for a second call.”
“Fine, ask your question.”
“I’m glad that you see the light. Remember, honesty is essential here. Do you have any idea where Samuel Banks is at the moment?”
“That’s not the first question I expected,” Bach said as he frantically scribbled down everything that he wanted to ask.
“No, but it is the first question you are going to answer.”
“No. We have no idea. Now it’s my turn. Are you a…Golem?”
“Yes. How many of my people were captured?”
“Two. How many are there?”
“Roughly a million spread across
“That’s sensitive information, I’m -,”
“Sensitive information is the name of the game. If you don’t answer than this conversation is over. It’s your choice.”
“My team was split up and the case has been temporarily closed. The recent ‘discovery’ has taken precedence. How are you connected to Samuel Banks?”
“He saved my life. What is -,”
“You’re going to have to give me something more concrete than that.” There was a significant pause from the other end of the line. Bach looked down at the phone, doubtful that the line was even still active.
“Sammy saved my life as I was fleeing from my own people. There was a slight schism in our government and I’d fallen out of favor due to my political beliefs. Sammy got caught in the middle, able to operate in your world – he became a valuable asset. Satisfied?”
“Intrigued.”
“Good, now, what is the government’s position on the recent discovery?”
“The
“We are bound by a pact of non-discovery. We are not permitted to meddle in human affairs, though occasionally this directive is violated at the highest government level. Our government is controlled by a five member Council of Elders, who oversee different parts of the small bureaucracy. Communities exist almost independently, with Mayors reporting up the chain to the council.
“DISA, it’s still in the works. It’s Bush’s project and so right now I doubt it’s even funded. I don’t know how large it’s going to get, or even if it’ll manage its way through Congress. Right now there are only three or four people on staff. One of them is a weasel of a man named Chris Emmerson. I’m assuming that the non-discovery pact was to prevent a violent reception, but how incorporated is your world into ours?”
“I don’t think I follow you…,” Nathan trailed off on the other end of the line.
“How human are Golems? We know about credit cards and cell phones, weapons, that you speak English, how far does all of that go?”
“That sounded like two questions, but, we’ve got bank accounts and dummy corporations, cell phones as you’ve already noted, our own private internet, at least in the government, human clothes…we run the gamut of human production.”
“So, in essence the directive is blown off?”
“No, we had always dealt through intermediates who didn’t know our identities, that is before Sammy. He was the First Contact. He took it surprisingly well, for a human.”
“You thought it would be different?”
“Have you ever seen an alien movie? Man-kind does not take kindly to things that are different. Watch E.T. sometime.”
“You’re not…”
“No, we’re not aliens.”
“How long have you been around?”
“Our written history starts sometime in the dark ages, anything before that is anyone’s guess. How well do you know this Chris Emmerson?”
“The DISA guy? I met him once, and I wasn’t too taken by him.”
“Can you contact him if you need to?”
“I’m on medical leave right now, the whole team is, but I should be able to. Why?”
“I’ve learned how you operate and gained a certain amount of professional respect for you, Mr. Bach. I don’t know Emmerson, nor do I have any idea how he operates. My people might have rejected me personally at the moment, but I still have their well-being to look out for.”
“Rejected you? Why?”
“It’s a long story, but it involved creating a lasting peace between your people and mine. Do you think you can secure a job at DISA?”
“Which side of the story were you on?”
“Do you think I’d be on the phone with you right now if I wasn’t for a unified existence?”
“No. I’ll see what I can do about DISA. Will I be able to reach you at this number again?”
“No. I’ll get in contact with you once I establish a secure line for us to use. Until then, mention nothing about this conversation. You would only prove to make yourself a target of your own government.”
Bach nodded but didn’t speak, the phone was dead before he was afforded the opportunity.
Susan felt good as she hung up the phone. She’d spent the past two days recovering from her uninvited drug binge and the past two days on the phone. She knew she’d been sending waves across the ocean with the calls she’d been making. She’d been calling for a dismissal of the Duke. Already New World Sirens were removing their
Potts picked up the picture of his family. There he sat with his wife, two daughters, and son, gilded in a brass frame and behind glass. The felt backing of the frame was cool to the touch and he pressed the stand flat against the back and set the picture into the open cardboard box. It was one of the few remaining knick-knacks out in his office. This was it; he was off to retirement now. Of course, his retirement party would be overshadowed by the Inauguration tomorrow, but now it was time for Jeremy Potts to finally relax and get the rest that a career of civil service had earned him. He’d return to his family and their quiet
Jeremy Potts flicked the lights to his office off for the last time. After all, it wasn’t his office anymore. It was some new assistant NSA. His office was now located across the hall from the sitting room and in front of the kitchen.
“I guess this is good-bye Mr. Potts,” Debra said from behind her receptionist’s desk. She’d said that a couple of times, Jeremy was sure of it. She’d worked here since the Regan administration.
“That it is Debra. You take care of yourself now,” Jeremy wanted to pause as he passed, but he knew his time was over, like it or not.
“Enjoy your retirement. So, you’re going to write a book? Memoirs?”
“I think so. Seems like a quiet way to enjoy my life. Reflect a bit, get to know myself. Well, I need to be going or I’ll miss my own party. Good-bye Debra.”
“Good-bye Mr. Potts and good luck on your book.”
Jeremy would have waved, had his arms not been full of his personal belongings, he really would have. Rather he shuffled through security and out of the White House. Soon he was in the West Parking lot and the cold
* * *
George passed his all-white eyes across the assembled Council. They had just finished mumbling to themselves about the early meeting and the present state of Golem affairs when the Crier had announced George’s presence.
“Lady and gentlemen. I’m sure that you’ve all realized that I asked for this audience only for the gravest of reasons.”
“Please get to the point, Mr. Pruent,” Elizabeth Dane cackled out. Time had rendered this Golem more harrowing to the eyes than any that George thought he’d ever seen.
“As I’m sure you know, Man knows of our existence. The FBI raided the Townsquare complex less than a week ago, killing Wilburn’s response team, as well as a squad of guards on duty. In addition, two Golems were captured: one Mary Folger and her child Ced.”
“Have you come to us with any new information, or merely interrupted our deliberating on what to do in order to combat this situation, George?” This call came from the end of the Council’s table.
George held his tongue and let his eyes wash over the aged, the undeserving, and the slow. Soon. Soon they would know.
“I have come because the time for deliberation is over. The Council must choose the proper course of action right now before a lack of action leads to being caught off-guard once again.”
“Who are you to issue orders to the council? Your words are treasonous and shall not be heard again. Do not believe for an instant that with Nathan Wilde gone you have a great deal of job security, nor any greater right than you ever possessed before. Guards!”
* * *
Jeremy Potts tossed his arm across the top of the passenger seat as he craned his neck to look behind him. He backed his silver Lexus out into the parking lot and turned towards the heart of D.C. One hand reached down and punched the radio on, filling his car with the sound of Herman’s Hermits. Waving at the gate, Potts paused and then worked his way out into traffic. It was dawning on him that this would be the last time he left the White House from the staff parking lot, and it’d probably be the last time he’d visit the city for a good while. He was more than a bit saddened to go, despite what the rhythmic tapping of his hands on the steering wheel suggested.
* * *
“The guards are on the way. But, they’re my guards now. You’ve all been removed. I’m sorry to have to break from tradition like this, but we’re writing a new chapter in Golem history now. The bickering of a council simply is no longer an effective form of government. You’re too slow, too outdated to deal with such a rapidly changing situation. The Golem people need decisive, shrewd leadership to do more than simply weather the storm that we’ve sailed into. We need to come out in one piece, uniform, on top. We need to do more than collectively stick out heads in the sand and debate as opportunity passes us by.”
“And who do you propose lead such a civilization?”
“I am. I’ve contacted the Mayors of the major communities and a great deal of minor ones. I’ve got the votes of confidence needed to establish a temporary government until we have some sort of resolution. The Council of Elders is an antique. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m done with you and I’ve got some more phone calls to make. Good night.”
* * *
Jeremy Potts pulled into the driveway of his suburban
“Daddy, you’re home!” She was ever his little girl as she rushed out to greet him. She was, after all, his youngest.
“Yes dear, home from my last day of work.”
“It’s about time. Everyone’s inside and ready for your retirement party. Do you need help with bringing those boxes in?”
“No, but thank you for asking. Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”
George Bush’s leaving his own Inaugural Ball early had certainly been an unprecedented event. The following news conference sent shockwaves through first his staff, then televisions across the nation, then the world. He dispensed with the formalities rather quickly and cut into the meat of a speech which his trusted aides had spent days preparing.
“In the past few days the single greatest discovery in the history of mankind was made. I, along with a few others, learned that man is not alone in this world. We have been sharing it for some time, but contrary to what
The camera cut to Ari Fleischer in the White House press room and the world was forever changed.
