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WASHINGTON, D.C:
The President turns off the television, leans back in his overstuffed chair, and stares at the picture on the ceiling as he rubs his temples. Everyone is demanding something from him. His staff and advisors want him to make decisions, special interest groups are asking for larger rations of fuel, and friends are asking for special privileges. Too many questions. He closes his eyes and opens them at the sound of knocking on the door to his office. Crap. Another meeting. “Come in.”
Martin Donner enters and closes the door behind him. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir.”
The President notices Martin’s wrinkled suit, the bags under his red eyes, and the stubble of beard, and wonders if he’s even left the White House during the past five days. “When was the last time you got some sleep?” Martin smiles at him, but even that has a weary look to it.
“I caught a few hours yesterday.”
“Yeah, right. What’s up?”
“First, I think we should cordon off access to the White House in a five-block radius. Then set up a military command post out front, with support troops stationed on the grounds.”
The President frowns. “Is it that bad?”
“Not yet, but it will be.”
“Continue.”
“Set up road-blocks around cities that still have power. We need to limit the civil riots I know will eventually happen.”
The president thinks about for a moment. “The Joint Chiefs aren’t going to like wasting our domestic reserves on civilian matters.”
“They’ll waste more when we have to call them in to enforce Martial Law.”
“I know. Okay. I’ll tell them. Have you received any word from Alex?”
“The women doing the research are on the way to Alaska. There’s still some crude oil there, and that’s where the experiments have to continue.” Martin shrugs in resignation. “All we can do is hope they come up with something.”
The President leans back in his chair. “Get some sleep, Martin.” He grins. “That’s an order.”
Martin grins back, then leaves the office.