Angel and I walked back toward the trailer and met Avel and Pneuma standing outside chatting with each other. Avel’s radio was sitting right by the door, an antenna pointing outside the door. It was noticeably silent. 

“No global wind angels yet?” I asked. 

“Sadly, no. But I know one will pass by soon. Within the hour. I can feel it.” Avel pointed is index finger directly into the hot summer sky as if to make a point. 

“Well, if that’s the case, Pneuma? Angel? Should we make our way to our next appointment then so our good friend Avel can make sure we don’t miss a global wind angel?” 

They both chuckled and agreed. I turned to Avel, “I meant what I said, Avel. You have a real talent for managing this type of work. The fact that you’re so dedicated to making sure we get the power we need even when the majority of our wind angels are down for the count, speaks volumes. If this work is something you see as a lifelong career, please stay in touch. K? I’ll put in a word to Mr. Voltaire that you should be overseeing more than one of these wind farms.” 

Avel blushed a very deep red, offered a deep bow, then proudly offered the three finger salute. “Yes, Madame President! Anything for my country! And for my people!” I returned a silent bow and salute back to him and returned to the SUV. 

Once inside, Angel was sitting facing the back of the SUV this time while Pneuma sat along the side. She handed me the iPad with the names of the Sheronite Department Heads. I read the names aloud, “Annona Bartlett. Eri Xan.  Addison Voltaire.  Mykeya Mursal.  Nico Amiel.  Tori LaCulcir. Wow, there’s a lot of Department Heads that come from Sherah.” 

“That’s because Sheronite’s work very hard, and they do a great job! Each one earned their position on merit and successful politicking,” Pneuma offered. 

“Successful politicking?” 

“They got to know you very well. You hand selected all of these people for one reason or another. And they did a good job making sure you knew who they were. It’s the nature of democracy and democratic republics. You got to advertise yourself. A lot.” 

“So…I knew all of these people before?” 

Pneuma nodded. “Some of them you knew very well. Like they were close friends. Hopefully their bios will help you jog some of your past memories about them.” 

I looked out of the window as we climbed further up Mt. Harri and popped my ears to adjust to the air pressure, before looking back down at the bios. 

When it comes to finding creative ways to make anything flourish in the desert, Annona Bartlett, of the Digerire Tribe, is a genius. Having inherited and perfected her ancestral practices around farming and surviving in unforgiving environments, Annona has made it her mission that no Sheronite, especially a child, face starvation. After receiving her masters in Urban and Rural Nutrition at the University of Sherah, Annona began the “Full Basket Project”, one of the best known non-profits in USAR.  In the space of a few short years, Annona’s non-profit managed to reduce childhood starvation by over 5%. Annona now leads the Department of Sheronite Agriculture with the goal to ensure all tribes know how to grow food native to their indigenous regions and ensure that no child go hungry.  

I lingered on the image of Annona. She wore a thin orange veil over her face and orange scarf over her head. Gold jewlery crowned the top of her orange scarf. She wore a long sleeved dress similar to that of an abaya that covered just about all skin including her feet. Her eyes were modestly downcast and lovingly looking at a straw basket that she held in her arms. It was full of crops of all sorts like rice stalks, bean stalks, wheat stalks, squash, zucchini, carrots, onions, celery. To the right side of her stood a goat and a lamb. The dusty streets of a desert town were blurred behind her. 

“Annona seems like a very compassionate and loving person,” I mentioned. 

“Ah, that she is,” Angel chimed in. “She and I have had many, many conversations. She’s always asking me to be kind to her people and all of Sherah.  While I can’t control how the crop season works, I do take her requests into consideration and ask my team to handle her people with care. She’s done an excellent job honestly. More and more children are living to see adulthood because of her programs.” 

I smiled sadly. His statement brought up a past memory of mine while I was in college. I remembered studying abroad and seeing firsthand a child, no more than two years old, lying nearly dead on a dusty city back alley unable to pick his head up. His mother in her all-black abaya pleading with anyone to spare a coin so she can feed her child, his bloated belly protruding from underneath his torn and dirty striped shirt. He wore no pants. Just a shirt. His legs were bowed and lifeless as he struggled to breathe. My heart sank. I reached in my pocket for a coin. Another local grabbed my hand and hissed, “Don’t pay her! She’s just using that child. Besides, that money won’t feed her or her child. It will pay the person she works for.” 

“But what do I do?” I asked desperate. I was beyond disturbed. 

“That child will be gone by the end of the week. It’s not worth feeding it. It would just speed up the child’s death. It hasn’t had food in so long that whatever food you do buy for it will just make it sicker. Just look the other way for now.”  

I broke from the memory and looked at Angel, my eyes misty. “You know, I never want to be an accomplice to a child’s unnecessary death, right?  I have a memory where I walked through towns like Annona’s. The starvation rate is real.” 

Angel bent over and grabbed my hand. The blackline eye tattoos were noticeably open now. “We know, Madame President. Another reason why the people voted for you. They know your intentions are genuine.” 

I nodded, sniffed and swallowed to readjust to the altitude shift. “Let’s learn more about Mr. Eri Xan.” 

“That’s General Eri Xan, Madame President,” Pneuma chimed. 

“Ah… I guess that tells us more about his position, doesn’t it?” I pulled up the bio and began to read aloud: 

General Eri Xan of the Aasim Clan within the Medard Tribe leads the Department of Defense and Homeland Security. Having gone through all of the ranks as an enlisted soldier within the Army National Guard, General Xan has proven himself on and off the battlefield. As a young soldier, General Xan fought alongside his fellow tribesmen during the Battle of the Tribes. He acted as a national peacekeeper and ensured that hundreds of innocent civilians did not get hurt.  After the war was settled and the tribes fell under a negotiated ceasefire, he was decorated with the Medal of Bravery, the highest medal an enlisted soldier can receive for his tireless acts of service. General Xan later received a degree in national peacekeeping and switched branches to work with the military police.  He rose up the ranks until he received his fourth star as General of the Military Police. As the appointed Head of the DoDHS, General Xan oversees all branches of the military which include the Military Police, Secret Service, Army National Guard, Navy and Airforce. Since General Xan’s instatement, there have been no reported skirmishes between tribes in Sherah and no wars fought with other nations. 

“That’s one long and impressive bio.” I said as I looked over General Xan’s headshot.  General Xan wore his navy dress blues with all of the patches and decorations you could imagine on his chest. He wore a red beret the same shade of Sherah’s flag. His smile was nearly nonexistent and his eyes spoke all business. 

“General Xan has had one long and impressive life,” Angel offered. “Anyone who’s worked with him before knows he’s very serious about what he does. Isn’t that right, Frank?” Frank looked through the rearview mirror of the passenger seat and offered a single, silent nod.  He then went back to scanning the environment for any potential threats. 

“True to Xan’s philosophy. When you meet him, you’ll notice that Xan and his crew are just about as talkative as Frank is. The bio does more talking than the military does as a whole. But they’re efficient and effective at neutralizing any potential threats.” 

I found that to be interesting. “I guess they take the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’ quite literally then?” 

“You could say that,” Angel said as he shifted his weight to rebalance himself on the windy roads. Avel was right, the air was getting much thinner up here. 

“By the way, I thought we were headed to the solar farms,” I asked after I popped my ears once more. 

“We are headed there, but the trip by car would take nearly a day. So we’re taking a shortcut,” Pneuma said. “We decided heading there by helicopter would be faster, so we’ll be at the airfields within the next 10 minutes.”  

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “I thought we were headed to Ruha for a second.” 

“Oh no, Madame President. Although a trip to Ruha seems lovely. You haven’t yet adjusted your breathing to the environment there and that’s also about a day’s trip from the wind farm to the city itself.  For humans, it requires several rest breaks to feul up, adjust to the altitude and grab some oxygen. Although both Angel and I could get there in one shot. The airfield is about a quarter of the way there from the wind farm.” 

“Oh wow… I didn’t know it took so much.” I looked out of the window. Based on where we were at, it already looked like I could see the world from here. Or just lots and lots of mountain to climb. 

“Before we get to the airfield, why don’t you read the next bio.” 

I looked down at the iPad and pressed the next tab. “It’s Addison Voltaire!” His curly golden hair stuck out of a white hardhat.  His pale blue eyes looked up with pride.  He wore brown leather overalls, workboots and a blue dress shirt.  He stood with arms crossed in front of a solar panel field in the middle of a vast desert. 

“He looks so proud in this photo,” I said. 

“Oh, providing power to the tribes, especially the desert tribes is one of his greatest accomplishments. He’s incredibly proud of his work there.” I read his bio aloud: 

Based on the border of Sherah and Alma, Mr. Addison Voltaire and the Department of Energy have made it their mission that each household within USAR receive fair and adequate power. Having taken over his family’s electrician business after the passing of his grandfather, Mr. Voltaire applied his knowledge of electricity with his passion for travel, trade and investments. Mr. Voltaire started a solar panel installation business along with his electrician work that provided enough profit for him to start his own non-profit to lay solar panels for the many villages throughout Sherah and lie outside of the current gridlines. As Head of the Department of Energy, Mr. Voltaire is now working on a progressive project to extend the current grid to many of these off-grid villages so all people can have equal access to electricity and power.

“Seems a little ironic considering that we’re now telling the whole country to not use their power unless its an essential service,” I sighed. 

“Yep,” Angel said. “And it’s got the entire nation very upset with both you and him.” 

“Wait…are you saying that I was the one who shut off their power?” 

“Well, Voltaire ultimately made the gut-wrenching decision, but you appointed him and so therefore, yeah… you did shut off their power.” 

“But remember, it’s for a good reason,” Pneuma countered. “The power was shutting off everywhere randomly anyway and we really need the power to stay consistent for the essential services that we have. Like the hospitals and the library.” 

“Right… Ughh…” I ran my hand through my locs and groaned. “I mean, those off-grid villages should be thriving though, right? They’re not on the grid yet?” 

“On paper, it seems like that should be the case. But we’ll visit Voltaire’s solar techs to verify what’s really going on,” Angel said. 

The SUV turned left into a medium-sized airport. The airport building itself looked humble but it did the job. I couldn’t help but notice that many cargo planes and passenger planes sat on the tarmac, not flying. The only commercial airline that seemed to be operational at the moment had white plans with words written in purple script. A purple crown sat on the top of one of the peaks of the script. “What’s that say on the plane?” I asked aloud. 

“Oh, they say Kingdom Air, the single commercial airline between USAR and the UKH.” 

I looked back down at the tablet and then at the plane. “How come I can read the bio here but I can’t read the script on the plane?” 

“Well…you don’t speak Heaven’s language yet. It has it’s own writing system and its own language. You speak universal spirit which all people in the UKH can speak, read and understand, but speaking Heaven-tongue… that takes some time to learn and understand. It’s the language the planets and stars speak. No worries, though. If ever you decide you want to travel to the UKH, we’ll provide some interpreters for you. Or if you really want to learn it for yourself, you can spend time with any of the angels in Ruha. It’s their native tongue, so they’ll offer classes.” 

Huh, I thought to myself as we slowed down next to a large black unmarked helicopter. The more you know… 

“Sure, Pneuma.  Remind me to ask…Aio, was it?…to see if he can find me a Heaven-tongue tutor, so I can speak it for myself should a delegate from the UKH ever come down to visit.” 

“Sure thing, Madame President,” Pneuma wrote down a note on her phone. “I’ll make sure Mr. Camara gets the memo.” 

---

Words: 2,411

Total Word Count: 50,148

“My glasses are projecting a memory from the physical universe on the sky above,” I whispered to Angel. 

“Actually, you’re picking up the signal from the library with your glasses and pulling in the security footage. I could see the wayward signal myself right here.” 

“Wayward signal?” I glanced at Angel. 

“Didn’t you have everything locked securely behind all those firewalls and other protective passwords? Nothing should be leaving the library right now, right?” The eyes on the left side of his neck were firmly fixed on me, the rest of them were either fixed on the sky or looking straight above into space. 

“Right… I thought Misty had to go behind so many checkpoints before being able to view any of it.” 

“Welp…it looks like something’s leaked because we can clearly pick up a signal of a replay right here.” 

I watched the replay and turned up the volume to pick up the audio of it. I instantly blushed and looked at Angel. “Angel, not these!” 

“Ah…well, I can’t stop it. Someone’s pulling it and projecting it somewhere else.” 

I turned back to the projection to watch in horror as short, broken clips pulled me back to the beginning of it all. 

---

Nick and I drove over the incredibly long Chesapeake Bay bridge in our Ford Explorer Sport Trac hoping to Jesus that this time, we would get down in one piece. I turned up the radio to drown out the small skids the truck was making with the back wheels and the constant reminder that at any given time, like that shopping cart with one wheel that never made contact with the ground, we too were driving down from Pennsylvania to Virginia on three wheels. 

“There for me there for me, said you’d be there for me…” I belted overtop of the tiny screeches along with Lauryn Hill while feeling every bit of the song toward my truck, and toward the mechanic who said he fixed it. The 2007 model truck had only been in my possession for one year.  It only needed an oil change, so my car indicated, and to be a model citizen, I dropped it off at the dealer. Two thousand dollars later, I was in the hole with a truck that the dealer magically found with a “temporarily fixed” problem. Or so we thought it was temporarily fixed.  Drive anywhere 60 miles and above, and we were “wobbly-shopping-carting” down the highway with my heart in my throat. 

With the help of Jesus and a few more songs from Ms. Lauryn Hill, Nick and I made it to our destination: a friends’ home. I was there to dog sit the friends’ dogs while Nick was off to study carbine training with the friend, while his wife had to visit family in California. It seemed like a simple enough trip. Our friends’ two female pit bulls greeted us with kisses and thwacking tail wags. Before the wife left for her trip, she ran through a quick tour of her home and asked me about my experience with dogs since the pit bulls seemed to love me. 

“Oh, I’ve only had two dogs in the past. One when I was about six years old and another when I was about sixteen. I made a bet with my dad that I could finish a 5,000 piece puzzle in 3 days. He said that if I could finish it in that time, he’d get me a dog. (And to this day, I have no idea what puzzle building has anything to do with dogs.) But he got me one. His name was Shiloh. He was a Boxer-Shepherd mix. I loved him deeply.” 

“Oh! Really! That’s an incredible story.” 

“Yeah. He really was quite a personality. Was about as tall as me right before he passed at nine months old…” 

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry!” 

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m over it now. It was a long time ago. Hit and run. My siblings tied him outside because he was barking nonstop. He chewed through his leash and ran across the street to see the girl pup there. I don’t think the driver saw him at all or stopped to check. The vet at least says he didn’t suffer.” 

The following few days, after everyone had left on their trips, I attempted one last ditch effort to fix my dying truck. I dropped it off at a nearby mechanics and Ubered back for a weekend with just me and the pups. In the quiet of it all, I attempted to start relaxing and resetting.  I read some self-help books and tried to watch a documentary on Black food culture. Later that night, after sitting through so much quiet and self-reflection, I turned to Pepper, the younger of the two pitties, looked her dead in her loving eyes and said, “Hey…thanks for loving me anyway…” 

And that’s when I broke. Years and years of deep, uncried tears for just about anything and everything under the sun came, and I couldn’t stop, and they continued as I picked up my car and paid the mechanic another thousand dollars only for him to say, “Sorry, it’s unfixable.” They kept coming down as Nick and I drove out of the Chesapeake Bay tunnel on our way back home to Pennsylvania. They continued to pour days later as we got another opinion from another mechanic saying that they believe the frame of the truck is bent and it’s unfit to be driven. I lamented so hard that the following weekend all I could handle watching on TV was silent YouTube videos of people camping in the rain. The tears kept coming as Nick and I made the hard decision to impulse buy another four year old truck that put us nearly another $50k in debt. 

This level of sadness was ridiculous. I had never experienced sadness so deep that it felt nearly impossible to function in front of business partners as Nick and I drove back down the same route from Pennsylvania to Ocean City, Maryland a week later.  I had a headache. Actually, I felt achy all over. While mindlessly watching all of those rain camping videos, I had a migraine, but I didn’t think anything of it. I get migraines all the time. A week of a migraine? I mean…it must be from all the grief? Right? I thought as I rubbed my head and jumped out of the new truck the first night we stayed in OCMD. Nick wanted to help me take my mind off of things, so he insisted we go to a movie theater.  I took him up on the offer. As I walked around the truck to grab Nick’s hand, my left leg twisted to the left and went weak instantly. I stumbled like someone who was drunk, but caught myself.  Yep… I’m losing it. Gotta find a way to stop crying so much, Brittany. 

After the movie, I had the bright idea to grab the largest, sweetest canned alcoholic beverage from the nearest gas station. I was insistent that I find one with the highest amount of alcohol. This one that I found had 40%. Great. Back at our apartment with other business partners, I opened the beverage, said, “Whatever. Who cares anyway?”, and downed the whole thing in one sitting. 

The next set of projections on the northern sky were fuzzy and brown. Snippets of a toilet, laughing hysterically, everyone being friendly…or was that concerned? Nick carrying me back to the bedroom…to the toilet? To the bed?  Wait, was I upside down? Or right side up? I felt like I was walking on the ceiling somehow. Or was it the floor…? And it was all so funny for some reason. Euphoria! Finally! Only to be greeted by the world’s largest hangover in the morning. 

The memories shifted back to color as the emotional tone of the footage jolted from hopeful to hopeless again. I attempted to sit through the business seminar setting the example with my husband that I could focus through an eight hour training. But my head was throbbing like nothing I had ever seen before and Oh my God! What had I just done? For the first time in my life, I was officially over $100k in bad debt. 

At the thought, “You are over $100k in bad debt”, I shot right up. It felt like someone had put a knife into my right temple. I couldn’t breathe. “I’ll be right back,” I managed to whisper to Nick. He nodded and let me pass through. I ran to the nearest public restroom and silently wept. “What the heck did I get myself into?” I thought to myself. I began to hyperventilate. Hold yourself together! I yelled at myself internally. It took a miracle but somehow, the tears stopped enough to let me walk out of the bathroom and back into the lobby. 

On my way back to my seat, I happened to pass by a table where a financial adviser was promoting software that could get you out of debt in the shortest amount of time. I stopped, “Maybe you can help me.” 

“Sure,” he offered in a friendly tone. “Do you know how much debt you’re in?” 

“Sure do.  And I’ve got the details right here.”  I handed him my phone. Being the organized person I was, I had my numbers ready and on a spreadsheet for him to crunch. 

“Well, based on this, you could get out of debt in four years!”

I looked at him once again euphoric and then…broken. I couldn’t explain it. And the well just wouldn’t run dry. The tears continued to flow once more. He smiled compassionately and offered me a tissue. “It’s okay! So many clients of mine cry when they see how quickly they can get out of debt.” 

I nodded, but didn’t offer any other words. I was glad there was hope… but at what cost? 

Later that day, the ability to breathe still didn’t come easy to me. A few of my business partners came around and saw how stressed I was. “Hey, if you need a gummy or a hit, I got you,” one offered. 

I thanked them for their kind offer. I know they only wanted to see me relax, and I was so close to taking them up on it. 

“We won’t need any,” Nick had overheard and stepped in. I still remained silent. “We’re heading home soon anyway.” 

The day we drove home in our brand-new-to-us truck, a gale passed through the beach town. Crossing the bridge from the island to the mainland, I watched the choppy, unforgiving waters. I noticed some fishermen in the bay; their small boat tossing like a toy boat in a bathtub. I thought back to the Great Wave mural I had displayed in my office and asked through a new set of silent tears, “Are these struggling fishermen struggling for air like I am, right now?” 

---

The clips suddenly stopped. My breath matched that of myself in the displayed memory. “Your inhales stopped,” Angel observed. 

I shook my head and let in a sharp one. “Watching all of that…I couldn’t breathe,” I turned to look at him. 

“You couldn’t breathe? Or you wouldn’t breathe?” Angel lowered his arms, closed the eyes on his arms, pulled down his sleeves and faced me. 

I didn’t answer him right away as I searched my soul for the answer to his question. “That…those…memories left me breathless and speechless,” I finally responded. I tapped my glasses off once more and Angel transformed back into the edgy and tattooed Director of Death that I knew him as. I felt woozy.

He crossed over to me and placed a hand on my back to help me stabilize my balance. “Come, we’ll be late to our next meeting.” 

---

Words: 1,980

Total Words: 47,737

Avel offered a hopeful smile and looked back at the trailer. “Speaking of the global wind angels, I need to head back to the trailer to listen in for any of them coming by.”

I nodded in understanding and shielded my eyes in the direction of the trailer. From where we stood, it felt like I could see the whole world. Behind us, Alma’s vibrant city skyline was just a silver line in the horizon. To the northwest however, a new element that I hadn’t considered came to view. A desert? 

“Avel, before you go? Is that a desert behind us?” 

“Oh yes, Madame President. You didn’t know? The Arabah Desert is growing.” 

I looked down at the grass below us. It was bone dry. Perfect for wildfires. “The Arabah Desert?” 

“That’s right.  The very one in Sherah. It’s already taken over much of Alma’s pasture lands and now its starting to encroach on Ruha’s grasslands. Many of the northern Sheronite tribes like the Digerire, the Riruyna, and the Pmitchlay Tribes are used to desert dwelling, and even thriving in those environments…but most other tribes and all Almites are suffering. Ruhans that haven’t practiced dry breathing really suffer the most.” 

“Dry breathing?” 

“Exactly what it sounds like. Breathing in dry weather. When it’s dusty and there’s no water to quench your thirst or clear your lines.  Or lets say you cover your face as most desert-dwellers do. How do you reach your optimal intake with your face covered? How do you not lose water? Wind breath doesn’t work very well in desert areas because it almost always expels water…and the water, you know, the rains, they’re much needed, but we need frequent water to overcome the desert winds. Or we need to request that the UKH send us some wind angels that have trained for and were built for the desert. So they can keep blowing dry winds without choking. Right now, the wind angels we have were moreso built for the sea than anything.” 

I thought about what he was suggesting. I guess we could put in a formal request that the UKH send us some desert wind angels. “But if we request desert wind angels, wouldn’t that spread the desert even more? What impact would that have on current ecosystem of the island already?” 

Avel shrugged. “Honestly, I’m only an expert in wind and breathwork. But I’d imagine it would spread the desert even more.” 

“It would be catastrophic to the current ecosystem.” I heard Angel’s grave voice behind me. “Avel’s correct. You could request that the UKH send over angels that can blow desert winds, but their breath would destroy the current systems of the Ruhan grasslands and lush Almite pasturelands (which are nearly gone already without the help of the desert wind angels). Not to mention, their breath would destroy the current desert ecosystem.” 

I turned to face Angel. “The desert has an ecosystem?” 

Angel looked at me as if I’d never gone to grade school. “But of course, Madame President. Just look over there for instance.” Angel walked up and turned me in the direction of Alma. He then crouched and pointed a little further northwest toward a tiny spec that blended in with the vast desert.

“Your glasses are still on your face. Miraculously, you didn’t lose them in the reservoir,” he said right beside my right ear in a near whisper. “Why don’t you turn them on again to zoom in on where I’m pointing?” 

Right! They were still on my face. They were fitted so well, I honestly forgot they were even there. I double-tapped the frames and swiped my right finger on the top of the right lens to zoom in, 2x…3x…10x…30x

There, in the fine red powder, was a tiny rocky mountain range. Off one of the rocky mountains was…a waterfall? And small lake? “An oasis?”

“Yes!” Angel exclaimed. “You’re looking into Sherah from Ruha right now with those glasses, but those desert-dwelling tribes survive and heavily rely on those little oases. They’re very small and life in the desert is tough, but the people know the land like the back of your hand. If you were to ask the UKH to release their desert wind angels, the dust would clog up the watering holes and oases like those, and really make life difficult not just for the people but the wildlife that’s made a home there too. There would be serious consequences. Not to mention that all of Alma and Ruha would suffer even more anyway because the people do not know how to handle and adjust to desert life.” 

This was all a lot to think about. So if I did call for the desert wind angels, we would have our wind back and the electricity would be restored, but it could decimate all of USAR in the process. But if I do nothing, we’re back where we started with no electricity, very sick wind angels (whom I just found out were sea wind angels), and a growing desert anyway. Internally, I could feel the panic and overwhelm engulfing me at the speed of the desert growth. 

I looked around in frustration. “So does anyone here know what’s making this desert grow so fast?” 

Avel shrugged again. Clueless. He scratched his head and said, “I dunno… maybe an ecologist would help? I sometimes have to talk to them because they’re always complaining that the global wind angels sometimes blow their winds in the wrong directions or that they’re blowing so much wind it’s carving out whole canyons and such. So I have to radio back that whatever global angel is passing by needs to stay on course and such. Next time I call, I could maybe have them complain to you instead? They seem to always know whose fault it was for why the land changed and such.” 

I burst out in laughter at Avel’s suggestion. Pneuma and Angel joined me. Avel looked at both of us in confusion, unsure how what he said was funny, but he eventually joined the group laugh. “Avel,” I said. “You’re a genius. Did anyone tell you that? Once we start righting this ship, I’ll ask Mr. Voltaire to promote you. Alright? You keep at it.” 

I turned to Pneuma who had already whipped out her phone to be one step ahead of me. “Pneuma, set up an appointment in the next few days with one of these complaining ecologists.” 

---

Angel held me back at our spot on the plateau as Avel and Pneuma walked back to the trailer and SUV. Frank and his team continued their vigilant watch from a modest distance. “Brittany, stay here an extra moment with me.” 

“Hm? What is it?” 

“Take another look around. What do you see?” 

It was the same thing we just observed with Avel and the team. “I see the desert over there,” I pointed to the northwest and north. “Really dry grass over here,” pointed directly in front of me. “The black sands and sea over here,” my right hand pointed to the eastern shoreline. “This massive mountain behind me,” I thumbed to my back. “And we’ve got itty bitty Alma over that way,” I pointed my left index finger toward the west where Alma supposedly while keeping my eyes on Angel. “Why? Do you see something different?”

Angel pulled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt, faced the grasslands to the north and raised both of his arms to the sky. He was right. The artwork on his arms was very detailed. Impressive. He stood there in silence on the edge of the plateau with his arms raised for almost two minutes before I broke the silence.

“Angel, what are you doing?” 

“Seeing,” he continued to focus on the north with his arms raised. They didn’t shake, nor did they show any indication of heaviness. Also impressive. 

“You need to raise your arms to see?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Angel did not answer my question right away. He stood as still as a statue, yet looked captivated by whatever he saw. “Change the frequency on your glasses, and turn up the volume,” he said eventually. 

I did as he asked and swiped the arms of the glasses on the left and right sides until I passed the frequency where I could see words. “Hello? Hello? Hello?” I said as I watched puffs of smoke from my breath in the universal spirit script or whatever that he had mentioned before. “Alright, I looked back up at Angel. I see the words.” 

“Cool,” his words flowed more like water than like puffs of smoke. “Go a little higher in frequency.” 

“This thing goes high…er…?” I said as I swiped on the right side again a little more. I paused mid-word as I looked at Angels arms. “Wait!” my words were now like little lightning bolts. “Those aren’t tattoos! Those are… ACTUALLY EYES!” 

He wasn’t lying. His whole body was covered in eyes. The eyes on his neck looked directly at me while the eyes on his arms and hands looked in every direction around him. The two eyes on his face remained locked on the northern skyline in the distance. The eyes were terrifying, yet captivating. So many! And this was just on his arms and neck. I could only imagine what it looked like all over the rest of him. The other incredible part about him was his head tattoos. They weren’t tattoos either, but actual 3D faces made of…”Black smoke? The lion, eagle, and ox on your face are smoke?”

He didn’t answer my question. Just kept looking in the distance. I walked around him, trying to make sense of what he was. My human brain was having the hardest time with it, because if I actually had trypophobia, I don’t think I could handle looking at him. But because I knew him and I trusted him, something inside me compelled me to stay put and just try to take it all in.

So many blinking eyes were on him of all different colors and shapes. Most eyes looked like human eyes of every eye color that humans could potentially possess, but many were of other animals as well—goats, fish, insects, birds…if you could think of it, I’m sure he had an eye for it. There were tiny luminescent spots on his arms that looked like freckles. I pointed at one of them on his elbow. It blinked and twinkled. “Star-eyes…” he mumbled as I gawked like a young child at his arms. He sighed and shifted his stance, but kept his arms raised. “Yes. I have many eyes to see. They only appear as tattoos for you because with your natural eyes, that’s how you can best see and understand me. Adjust the frequency higher once more.”

I walked back to my original spot on the left side of him facing the northern sky and held my breath as I slid my finger once more on the glasses. Instantly, the entire world shifted.

Angel’s voice broke through, “What do you see now, Brittany?” 

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Angel and Pneuma did not answer my question at first. They both looked down at the floor of the car. Angel turned to look out the window behind him as if ignoring my question. Was my question that out there? A healing angel can heal an ailing President? Right? 

Pneuma broke the silence. “Madame President, I’m not doubting Dr. Althea’s capabilities to provide healing, but…the procedure is intense. It’s not like a typical blood transfusion, you know? You’re gonna really need to want it. If you really want Dr. Althea to assist in your healing, we can arrange a meeting for her to to meet with you and explain the procedure.”

“What is her process that bad?” I chuckled nervously. 

“Not…bad. Just intense.” 

I felt the car turn into a narrow windy road. I fell silent with them as I was taken by the vast open grassy field. The view was…breathtaking. “Angel! Pneuma! The Sea!” 

“Yes,” Angel smiled. “One of the best parts of Ruha is that you have excellent views of the Sea and the black sandy beaches.” 

The car rolled to a stop near a small solitary trailer that stood a few hundred feet away from a sea of windmills. As Frank helped me out of the SUV, I could see a vast ocean a few dozen miles away in the distance and to the far right of us, Mt. Harri continued to rise up. It hit me that where we stood was a stretch of plateau that should create the perfect updraft from the sea and the mountain. Curious, I thought to myself. No wind…

A slender and tall man with curly, fiery red hair and matching freckles bounded out of the trailer and headed our way. He wore brown tweed trousers, a plain white tshirt, and a goofy, innocuous smile. He looked to be no older than 18 years old.  “Madame President! Everyone!” He laughed then bowed and offered the three finger salute. “Avel Portur! So glad you could make it here! I just got the call from Mr. Voltaire right before you came! Please excuse how I’m dressed.” 

I looked down at the gym clothes I was wearing and made an awkward shrug. “No, I should be the one appologizing. Please excuse the way I’m dressed. Thanks for having us.” 

“Anytime, Madame President! Mr. Voltaire mentioned something about how you’re checking into our little power problem here?” 

I nodded and shielded my eyes. The sun was really beating down on us at this spot. “Yes,” I said. “This looks like the perfect spot for wind. Why aren’t the turbines turning?” I gestured to the sea of frozen giant, white windmills on grassy plateau. 

Avel pulled out a white towel and mopped the sweat from his burnt red forehead. I shook my head. He definitely did not look like he was made for the sun. “It’s this weather.” He gestured at the sky. “It’s got all my wind farms down actually.” 

“Oh, there’s more than one?”

“We have many across Ruha. Not so many in Alma and one or two in Sherah. But Ruha has the best wind, not just because of the mountain and the location of the sea, but because we have the wind angels.” 

“Wind angels?” I looked at Angel and Pneuma who were both removing their blazers due to the heat. 

“Right, Madame President,” Pneuma interjected. “Remember the wind angels? They blow wind.” 

I pursed my lips for minute while I tried to remember something. Nothing. I looked back at them for help. Angel came to my assistance. 

“Remember how we shared that angels spend an incredible amount of time breathing? They spend just about as many moments of the day working on their breath that you would do thinking random thoughts about anything. Some angels are particularly good at breathing so well, they get employed for it.” Angel made an exaggerated inhale and an even more dramatic exhale. “Put me in a contest with one of these angels in a breathing contest with any one of us and they would win every time. In fact, we have breath sports like this one in Ruha. Wind angels can inhale for hours and their exhales can last for days. They’re that good at it.” 

I laughed at Angel’s demonstration. “Wind angels must have amazing lung capacity.” 

“Oh they do, Madame President!” said Avel in excitement. “I may be the manager of this here farm, but I’m really an apprentice of one of them. I’m working on being the best breather in all of Sherah, so we can have some representation in the Island Olympics. No Sheronite has yet made the podium in breathwork.” 

“Wait, you’re a Sheronite?” I asked inquisitively. “You look to be the same height of most angels I know.” I pointed to Angel. Who let out a “Hey!”

“That I am, Madame President! One of the few Sheronites that can live and work without issues in Ruha,” he beamed proudly. 

“Sheronites have issues being in Ruha?” I asked. 

Avel shifted to one leg and scratched his head. “Well…most Sheronites can really only enjoy Ruha’s beach and maybe come up about this far up the mountain. This plateau is a little higher than Alma’s plateau, so they can handle that. The city of Ruha sits at about 7 times higher than where Alma is. And then the top of the mountain is 3 times higher than that. Most Sheronites can’t enjoy Ruha without oxygen tanks. You know they sell those a little up the way by the way if you have to head up there after this?” 

“So the air’s that thin up there?” 

“Oh yeah. It’s definitely an adjustment. We usually tell people to take their time going up the mountain to adjust to the altitude and avoid altitude sickness, you know? That’s why from here forward there’s so many rest stops and overlooks along the main road, and then the main road stops at Ruha. You’re gonna have to climb by foot the rest of the way to the top of the mountain if you want to see the world from there.” He chuckled. “I wanna be one of the few Sheronites to make it to the top and make my tribe proud! I also want to be the first one to make it without an oxygen tank. That’s why I work on this wind farm, to explore Ruha and work on getting my lungs as good as an angel’s!” He raised both fists in the air and took a deep long breath, followed by an even longer exhale. 

“Avel, that sounds like an amazing dream. What tribe are you from again? I might be traveling there soon and I’d love to tell them how well you’re doing.” 

“I’m from the Ilmedous tribe and my family is part of the Aelous Clan. Our tribe is famous for the musicians, singers and politicians they produce, but I want to make my tribe famous for more than that. You know? Something a little different. I used to just be a delivery boy for my tribe, but when Mr. Voltaire saw me practicing breathwork one day when he was installing a solar panel for our village, he asked if I wanted a job working on one of Sherah’s wind farms with the wind angels. And that was that. I now manage an entire wind farm on my own. From delivery boy to professional breath athlete. From Sherah. Can you imagine that?” His broad smile faltered. 

“And I can get closer to that goal as soon as my coach and his crew get well. They’re sick right now. That’s why there’s no wind.” He sighed. 

I leaned against the SUV, realized it was too hot and jolted back up again. “Yeah. That’s the problem. The wind angels make sure that there’s always wind flowing through right where the windmills are despite the weather, and on paper it should work, except, for some reason, the weather has been entirely too hot and the angel have been getting sun sickness and heat stroke. All of the wind farms in Sherah and Alma have temporarily shut down until they can get better. 

“Occassionally, we’ll get a miraculous updraft from the sea or a random storm rolls through, which allows me to keep this wind farm open, but most days, the turbines are like this. Still.  I have enough breath right now to maybe move one turbine. But just one of my wind angels when they’re healthy can move all of them. Their breath is so forceful we have to sit them on one of those smaller uninhabited islands off the coast of this one to give them the space they need to not blow any of us away.” 

“Wait…you can move a turbine? With your breath?” 

“Oh yeah… That’s what the breathwork sport is. It’s all about how many turbines someone can turn. Follow me. I’ll show you.” 

We followed Avel about 100 yards to the nearest turbine. He walked up to it, rested his hand on the turbine with the deepest respect, then turned about face and walked several paces away from it. Once he was at his desired distance, he sat on the yellowing grass facing the turbines, closed his eyes and began deep slow breaths. In with the nostrils. Out with the mouth. The inhales became slower as the exhales became more forceful.  Eventually, he pulled in the desired amount of air he wanted, formed his mouth into a pucker and blew with such direct force at the turbine that it…turned! It turned about three rotations before slowing back down again.

We all clapped and cheered for him. Avel blushed and ran back up to the group. “Not my best, but you get the idea. My coach says I gotta at least keep one of these spinning for an hour before I can even consider competing with normal angels. Definitely not ready for wind angels yet,” he gasped, out of breath.  

“Anyway, one thing wind angels have a hard time doing their jobs in is cloudless sunny weather that never lets up.  Especially when the temperature climbs incredibly high. Oh, there’s rankings among wind angels too. So some wind angels are so good at blowing things, they spend their time in the sky blowing clouds and making sure these clouds rain in the spots they’re supposed to rain in. These are called global wind angels, because they kind of just float all over the world blowing in the direction they’re supposed to blow in, of course. 

“My job as a manager of a wind farm is to coordinate when a global wind angel is coming and in what direction they’re coming in.  I then position my wind farm angels in the same direction and they help to catch part of the global wind angel’s breath and redirect some of it toward the turbines. The turbines of course swivel in whatever direction the wind is blowing and oila we have consistent electricity!”

Angel and Pneuma nodded as if they already knew how this process worked. I was floored. I didn’t know it took so much coordination. 

“Anyway,” Avel continued. “It all works gloriously…when our wind angels aren’t so sick. It’s like an epidemic this sun sickness and heat stroke. Most of them are in the State Hospital right now.” Avel pointed up at Ruha City in the mountain above. “It’s so bad right now that we have only a few global angels to coordinate with and a handful of overworked wind angels. Don’t get me wrong. They can blow the turbines themselves, but for the amount of turbines this country has…it’s all too much for just a few angels to do on their own. You know? And I’d step in if I could, but you see where my breathwork is at. So I just do the coordinating work for now and keep my radio open to hear when another global angel is passing by so we get those miraculous storms and updrafts to add to our diminishing supply of stored energy.” 

I sat with the news of this and looked around at all of the still turbines. There had to be 100 or so turbines here alone. I looked at Angel and Pneuma who kept their silence. Frank and his team were off at a distance scanning the area for potential threats. 

“What can I do, Avel?” I asked with as much heartfelt concern as I could muster. 

Avel lifted his downcast gaze and looked toward the sky. Then he shook his head and sighed once more. “Look, Madame President. I don’t really know… I’d say, ‘Let’s buy another wind farm’ , but I know our country’s in major financial straits and you’d need more wind angels for that. You could see if other wind angels from other countries are willing to come out and help, but I’m not sure if they’ll come down with the same sickness as the other wind angels.” 

He ran his large hands through his hair and looked up at Mt. Harri. “See the top of the mountain? It’s so hot here even Mt. Harri has lost most of its snow. People come here for the winter sports all year long and then a day at the beach afterward. The ice sheets up there have nearly melted. And the wind angels draw in the cold air from the ice sheets to help them maintain very long exhales on the turbines. If the air’s too hot, it’s hard to catch it all, you know? It kind of all just ‘floats’ away from them.” 

He let his hands drop in defeat. “If anything, maybe you can find out why the weather’s been so hot lately? Our nation needs wind desperately and the wind angels defintely want to offer their services. So I think it would help if we all knew why it’s been so hot here.” 

I rested my hand on Avel’s shoulder and looked up at his sky blue eyes. “I think that’s something I can do with my team. We all would like to know why it’s been so hot here lately.” 

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Back at my apartment, I laid on the couch facing the ceiling. Through my left eye, I watched my right arm and left leg spasm while acid traveled down my right eye down to the tips of my right fingers and left leg. The falls and near trips continued to happen. The sudden loss of feeling in my head…yep still there. I thought back to that one time in the shower the other day, there was a massive earthquake. I was sure of it. I ran out of the steaming hot shower into the living room. Soaking. Wrapped in just a towel. I tripped over the end of the couch and gripped it. “Baby!” He was watching a hunting show on the TV. “Baby! Was there just an earthquake? I felt it!” 

He gave me a puzzled look. “No. The world is normal. No earthquakes.” 

I looked down at my legs. It was my knees. They were buckling. Shaking beneath the very weight of me, even though I held myself up by my arms on the edge of the couch. I was still falling. All of gravity felt so…heavy…

The acid moment had passed. All that was left was the lingering hangover in my right temple. My right arm and left leg weak from the exertion of the spasm. Breathe Brittany… I reminded myself as I closed my eyes. Just…inhale. Pause. Exhale. Pause. Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Pause. You’re living today. Okay? Exhale. Pause. Inhale… 

---

I gasped for air and coughed. I felt like I was hacking up a lung. “Breathe, Brittany!” I could hear Angel’s voice coaching me through it. “You didn’t give me the go-ahead yet that it’s your time.” He patted my back. “That’s it. Breathe… Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Pause. You got it.” 

The coughs slowed down and I looked at my lap. I was in new clothes now. I looked up and around me. I was in the SUV again. I blinked. Angel and Pneuma looked at me, full of concern. 

“Madame President! Are you alright?” This time, Pneuma sat across from me, facing the back of the car while Angel sat along the window. 

“Oh…Pneuma? Angel? Wait… wasn’t I just dying now?”

“Dying? No!” Pneuma looked at me puzzled. “We thought you almost died a half hour ago after that lightning strike. But all is well.” 

“L-Lightning Strike? What?” 

“You don’t remember?” Pneuma was even more concerned now. 

“Madame President, you were just walking and talking with us a second ago. You even laughed off the lightning strike like it was nothing. You’re saying you don’t remember now? Any of it?” 

I sat back and racked my brain. “I remember looking at the crack in the tower. I remember seeing white and then…” I gasped. “I was in the lake!” 

Angel nodded his head. “Yep… you were.” 

“A-And then what happened?” I gripped the car seat and rubbed my hands against the leather. Yep, it felt just like how car leather should feel. 

“You went for a swim,” Angel said nonchalantly. 

Pneuma rolled her eyes. “Madame President! You slipped and fell into the reservoir, and probably would have drowned if it wasn’t for Frank diving head-first into the water after you and putting his swimming skills to the test. He went deep in there for you before the waterfall currents pulled you fully under.” 

I eyed Frank in the front passenger seat next to the driver. His black-cropped hair stood straight up as if he had gotten out of a shower. His black uniform also looked like it clung to his frame much tighter than it did before. He was still soaking wet. “Thank you, Frank,” I said softly as I looked back down to inspect myself again. He said nothing but nodded toward me in the rearview mirror and continued looking out of the passenger side mirror. 

How was I dry while he was soaking wet? Instead of the Presidential attire I was wearing beforehand, I wore a pair of gray joggers, white gym sneakers, and a white hoodie. I was even wearing a sports bra and a fresh set of underwear. “My gym clothes…” Pnuema confessed nervously. “I was planning on hitting the gym right after our excursions today and packed an extra pair. Fortunately, it fits you just right, even if I am shorter than you.” 

“Oh… Pneuma… I can’t…” I felt a drip of water down my neck. My locs were wet and heavy. So I really did fall into the lake. 

“Madame President! It’s nothing, really!” Pneuma blushed. “I’m just so glad you’re safe! And concerned you don’t remember the last 30 minutes of conversation! Angel, your brother must have a really hard punch for her to keep losing memory like this.” 

Angel laughed in annoyance. “I know, right?” He turned to me. “But you remember falling into the lake at least and everything else that happened before that?”

“Yep. The convo with Wyatt…Oh! I didn’t say goodbye to him!”

“Actually, you did. Right after you changed. You gave him a hug actually,” Angel said in a tone that indicated that Presidents don’t give hugs. 

“Oh great. At least we got to tell him goodbye. Someone should tell his boss he should get a raise. He was really great!” 

“With what money, Madame President?” Angel asked, still annoyed. He caught himself and lowered his tone. “Anyway, we’ve been in the car for the past 15 minutes going over the next list of cabinet members. He pointed to the tablet I had dropped on the ground in my fit of coughing.” 

“Oh…” I picked up the tablet. “So where are we headed now?” 

“After you fell into the lake, we asked if you needed a break to go back home and cancel the tour or if you wanted to continue. You insisted that you were fine. So we’re headed to the wind farm in Ruha next.” 

“Ah. Got it. Thanks!” I woke up the tablet and reviewed the open tabs. “So we’re headed to Ruha? Looking at angel-folk departments next?”

“That’s right!” Pnuema was back to her cheery self. 

“Aio Camara, Head of the Department of Education. Dr. Asa Althea, Head of the Department of Healing Services. Angel de Muerte, Head of the Department of Death.” I read aloud. “Oh, well, Angel… we already know what you do…” I pressed on his page. Angel’s headshot was both edgy and professional. He wore an all black jacket and dress shirt. His long black hair was neatly pulled up in a bun showing off the animal face line work on the shaved portions of his head. He kept his eyes both serious and somber. A blurred-out green hill and sunset were behind him. 

As a dual-citizen for both the UKH and the USAR, Angel de Muerte has been elected as the Head of the Department of Death due to his many years of service in the UKH and his expertise on all things rest. The USAR’s Death department works in partnership with the UKH’s much larger Rest, Reset and Restoration Department, which oversees the recycling and reprocessing of all things in the Universe.  We are grateful that Angel has offered his personal services to help this nation.  Due to his many roles with the UKH and the USAR, Mr. de Muerte has several co-heads of this department that handle all sorts of reprocessing tasks while he is away on business trips. 

I sat back and looked directly at Angel. “Wow, Angel… This is…quite the bio. I’m impressed!” 

Angel smiled softly and breathed. “Look, I’m just glad to be of service. It’s what I live for.” He winked. 

I looked over the bio again. “This bio doesn’t say which city it’s based in.” 

“Oh, that’s on purpose. We travel, but essentially, we’re in every city. Because this is a borrowed service from the UKH, I guess you could technically say its headquarters are in the UKH. We just run branches in each city. Kind of like how you’ll find Waste Management services in every town. It’s there. You just don’t really think about it…until you need us that is.” He chuckled. 

I nodded in understanding and tapped on the first tab again. I felt the SUV begin a steep incline up the mountain. An image of a child-like face with eyes full of wonder and excitement peered out from the headshot. Like many young children, I could not immediately tell whether Aio was male or female. Their hair was cropped in a wavy chin-length bob with bangs. They stood before a blurred school ground with trees and a playset in a navy blue blazer and light blue dress shirt. 

Aio Camara is the Head of the Department of Education. Based in Alma, the Department of Education ensures that all citizens of USAR are literate and educated to global standards, regardless of a public, private, or home education. Having spent eons in the UKH hearing directly from the courts of Most High, Aio is determined to ensure that all children have a safe and healthy environment to learn about all the wonders this Universe has to offer. 

I looked up at Pneuma and Angel with the same wonder in Aio’s eyes. “Aio looks like a ton of fun!” 

Angel cracked a wide smile for the first time in a while. “Ah, Aio! Always a blast to hang around.” 

I laughed, “Well, I can’t wait to meet…him? Her?” 

“Both are right,” Angel nodded. 

“Wait. Is Aio two genders?” 

“No. Aio is an angel. Like me. Angels have no genders. I guess you could technically call us, ‘it’. But that doesn’t work very well if you’re still thinking in English. Human languages… they just don’t cut it when it comes to angel-folk.” 

“Right… If I called you, ‘it’, that would make it sound like you were like this tablet or that mug over there.” I pointed to Pnuema’s coffee mug in the cup holder. “But you’re a person, right?” 

“Yep. Created by Most High above. And so is Aio. All angels are created. We’re created in the UKH and then settle in various territories throughout the Universe. Or Most High assigns us to work directly for Him in his throne room or in various areas throughout the Kingdom of Heaven. We do not have the same anatomical structure as human or mammal male and females. So ‘he/she’ technically isn’t correct. But for the sake of comfort, you can call Aio whatever you would like. Aio will not get offended.” 

“Oh…well, regardless, I think Aio and I could be great friends.” 

“Actually, if I remember correctly, Aio used to tutor you directly.  Once you start talking with him, I think you may remember spending time with Aio as a child.” 

My jaw dropped. “He tutored me?”

“Yes! All children get assigned a messenger angel to teach them the ways of Most High before they reach maturity. Aio was sent to you. You don’t remember this?”  

I scratched my head. I seriously couldn’t remember anything. Pnuema looked up at me in pity, while Angel’s smile dropped and he shook his head. “Yeah. My brother hit you hard, didn’t he?” I looked down, feeling like I let them down. Before I let my emotions take over, I tapped on the final tab and read aloud to switch the subject. 

Dr. Asa Althea leads the Department of Healing in Ruha. As its name suggests, the Department of Healing is solely concerned with keeping the health of all kinds (human, angel-folk, and other beings) well.  Having spent time directly with Most High’s son at the Cross, Dr. Althea collected vials of His spilled blood and has direct access and permission from the UKH to distribute the blood to whomever needs healing.  Dr. Althea oversees all hospitals in the USAR and ensures that all doctors, nurses, and healing agents in the nation follow Universal health codes. 

The face of a slender, beautiful person in a white lab coat stood confidently with a stethoscope around their neck. Although Asa was bald with a creamy chocolate skin complexion, she looked more feminine than masculine. So I opted to think of her as a female, though I knew she was neither male nor female. 

“Dr. Althea looks incredibly smart,” I said to Angel. “I’m calling her a girl because that’s what my brain can manage right now.” 

Angel nodded. “As you wish, Madame President. And yes, Dr. Althea is brilliant in her own right. She was the one to think of transporting all those vials to preserve Most High’s Son’s blood. We used some of it to write up that incredible contract to do that Spirit transplant with you. Dr. Althea performed that surgery. She was there during all of it. Truly incredible stuff. When you chat with her next, ask her about the ‘vials’. She’ll know what you’re talking about.” 

I was quiet for a long while. “Angel…you think she can fix me?” my voice cracked. 

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Wyatt strolled with us as we walked across Autunno Canal’s bridge. “Tell me,” I asked, still looking at the single dark cloud in the sky, “where are you from, Mr. Castor?”

“Sherah, Medard Tribe-Truinnsear Clan,” he said proudly. “Why do you ask?” 

“I was just curious. I picked up a twinge of an accent, but I didn’t want to guess.” 

“Oh!” His accent had the slightest Scotch in it, but it was so slight, you really needed to listen to pick it up. Oh right, I thought to myself, we’re not speaking English, but why does it sound Scotch? “You have a good ear, Madame President! I’ve spent so much time here in Alma, since I was a wee lad, I thought I covered my accent well!” He blushed. 

“What brought you out here to Alma? From where, the Medard tribe? That’s deep in Sherah, isn’t it?” 

“Why yes it is.  My Pa was a construction worker on this here dam.  Worked for V, Mr. Angel’s brother, many, many decades ago. Pa was tasked with many construction projects around Alma, workin’ for V.  He hires A LOT of his workers from the Medard Tribe, since we have some of the best construction crews, ya know!” He let out a deep laugh, “We may be short, but don’t underestimate our numbers and our strength!” 

Angel and I laughed with him while Frank, my ever-silent and faithful secret serviceman, continued to follow from a distance behind us. “So V hired your dad?” Angel continued. “My brother…always working…”

“Oh, he is! But he’s a great boss, when you show him you’re just as hard-working as he is. Show one ounce of laziness and you’ll get the boot…quite literally!” Wyatt rubbed his rear end as he reminisced.  “Oh, I have stories for days!” 

“Wait, you worked for V too?” 

“Did I? Who do you think put in the recommendation that I should manage this magnificent Dam? V was bold about it to. He walked right up to the DOE’s office in Alma. Mr. Voltaire wasn’t the Head of the Department at that time. It was someone else… who was it?” Wyatt looked up toward the tall evergreens surrounding us, and then shook his head. “Oh, it’ll come to me. Anyway, V says to the director, ‘This here’s your man! He’s worked for me with every ounce of life he’s got. He’ll give the same amount of effort. Hire him to manage it and it’ll never run dry…’” 

At that, Wyatt trailed off in deep emotion and contemplation. We neared a white open-topped Jeep marked for the Department of Energy and the USAR flag at the end of the bridge. “Oh, look at me, you got me nearly tearin’ up here.” He opened the back passenger and front passenger doors to the Jeep and then climbed in the driver’s side. Both Angel and I climbed into the back while Frank took the front seat next to Wyatt. 

“Alright Madame President, I want to show you one of the cracks at the bottom of the waterfall, but it’s best to drive there. It would be a hike otherwise.” Wyatt started the car. The Jeep rumbled a little louder than I imagined a car to sound. 

“Wyatt? Has this car been modded?” I asked in amusement. “It’s so loud!” 

“Oh no, Madame President! That wasn’t me. Looks like one of those random storms from offshore in the south is blowing in.” Great…just as I was about to do something Presidential for once… I thought to myself. 

“Would you like to reschedule this for another time, Madame President?” Wyatt asked while looking directly at me through the rearview mirror.  “It may come down hard, and I didn’t close the top of this Jeep.” 

I was less than thrilled at either decision to make. I looked up at the sky. The single dark cloud now had a whole family of dark clouds around it. The wind started to pick up. “How long do you think we have until it comes down?”

“Who knows? It’s random. Five, maybe ten, minutes?” 

“Can we get there before it comes down?” 

“Oh yes! It’s maybe two minutes away by car.” 

“Then let’s go!” I prodded. With that, Wyatt pulled the Jeep into gear and sped up the dirt path. Within a minute, we reached the Primavera River’s footbridge, which Wyatt floored right over. We bounced and bobbled over sedimented rocks as we drove closer to the waterfall. Each bobble made me acutely aware of the continuous headache I still felt and was about to scream for a break, when Wyatt suddenly stopped. 

“We’re here, Madame President!” He opened the rear driver’s side door. “Right this way.” I slid out onto a large mound of bare, smooth river rocks. Angel waited for me and offered his arm for me to lean on. Frank followed behind as usual and Wyatt led the way. 

“Watch your step, but if you stand…right…here…” Wyatt stood near the edge of the lake and looked directly up. Even though we were still a ways away from the waterfall, it was thunderous.  It also didn’t help that its mist made it difficult to tell if it was raining or not. I stood closer to Wyatt so I could hear him, my foot nearly on the sloping edge of the reservoir. I looked up. “I don’t see it!” I shouted against the Fall. Angel bent down to my level and said in my ear so I could hear him, “If you turn your glasses back on, you can zoom in on the crack. Swipe up and down on the right rim of the frames. It’s on the underbelly of the fourth tower.” 

I double-tapped the frames and the saturated color of the world came back on. Looking back up with the infrared now visible, I swiped up on the right side of my glasses frames, and wiped away the waterfall mist on my lenses. Wouldn’t ya know… I thought to myself as the crack became clear as day. I zoomed in further until it was truly visible to see what happened. 

“The water’s seeping through the crack in the tower?” I continued to shout. 

“That’s right, Madame President. The water is passing over the fall, but it’s not enough water. In order for the water to intake properly, the intake tower needs to be properly sealed…and it needs to have enough water passing through it. That turbine’s at less than half the amount of rotations it should be at.”  

“And how would we fix that again?” I asked, still looking up at the tower.

“Easy!” Wyatt shouted up at me. “You’d just—” 

Suddenly, I saw all white. That all-familiar but no less shocking lightning strike ran down my eye; down my right arm. My left leg buckled and before I knew it…the reservoir was all around me. 

---

She continued to look away from me. I looked at my hand and realized I was gripping her arm tightly. Suddenly self-conscious about her scars, I let go. Defeated, I looked across at the divorce papers on the coffee table. I turned back to face her back and asked again with a softened voice, “Why? Why don’t you want to live anymore? What did I do? I’ll fix it… I know I’m a screw-up. K? But if we break up… I— no, we—won’t exist anymore. Do you get it?!?” I looked down at the coffee table in the office once again. The divorce papers glared back at me. I picked them up in desperation and shook them in her face. She still did not face me. “Don’t you know what this means?!? Are you sure? Do you REALLY want to go through with this?!? What’s your actual gripe with life???” 

At that question, she turned to face me. Eyes puffy. Tears streaming down her face. “I—” she choked. “I—just…want…air…” As she began to convulse, the room filled with water. Before I knew it, the whole room was submerged in her tears. I tried to hold my breath for as long as I could but I was drowning with her.  

---

Without any command or prompting, my body took over instinctually. As it started to convulse, my legs kicked and my arms flailed…up. There was no air inside. Yet, my body miraculously floated back up to the surface. As I broke the water’s plane, I gagged, coughed, and sucked in the cool air around me. It burned. I laughed at the irony of it all as I felt my lungs refill with the air around me again. The pain…I wanted it. I wanted the pain. The coolness of the air. I wanted that too. My tired limbs splashed their way over toward the edge of the pool. I barely had the strength to pull myself up. I wanted the pain of the exertion to pull my weight out of the pool and onto the prickly concrete surface. I wanted all of it. 

With that realization, I walked…nearly skipped with joy back to my hotel room.  I wanted to shout from the rooftops, “HEY, EVERYONE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO LIVE!” But instead, to celebrate, I filled a bathtub halfway with the coldest water the hotel could offer. It was still warmer than the pool, but I didn’t care. It was what I needed to remind myself that I do, in fact, want to live. As I washed off the chlorine, I hugged myself, and said through a sob, “Silly self.  You’re not suicidal. Just massively uncomfortable. And we can work with uncomfortable. I promise I won’t put you through that again. You’re worth every breath you can take.”

---

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We stepped out onto the pavement. The sun was at its peak overhead. “Welcome to Harri Dam, Madame President!” a man of about four and a half feet tall appeared with a thick black beard and a white hard hat on his balding head.  He stuck out his hand for a firm and confident handshake with Angel, Pneuma and I. He was dressed in black slacks and a striped short-sleeved blue pollo with the Dam’s logo on it. “Wyatt Castor, manager of the Dam at your service!” He bowed and offered the three-finger salute.  All but the secret service men behind us offered the salute back. 

“I heard you had many questions about the Dam?” 

“We do.” I started. “Might we talk inside to discuss more? The sun is intense today.” I was shielding my eyes. 

“Oh, of course, Madam President! Right this way.” He was incredibly cheery on the walk back. The entrance to the welcome center was nothing short of beautiful. As we walked in, I was impressed by the floor-to-ceiling glass walls on both sides of the foyer allowing the visitor to have a grand view of the tallest waterfall I had ever seen and the lake on one side, with the view of a very calm and tame river on the opposite side. I realized I had stopped walking to stare at the waterfall with awe. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” I was startled that Wyatt had walked up to my right side without me noticing. “Oh yes…This is…the tallest waterfall I’ve ever seen!” 

“Haha. Actually, it’s not the tallest one, but you know the history.  Our ancient peoples worked with the first angel-folk to build a set of waterfalls to collect the melting snow from the snowcapped mountain that had already created a massive river to Sheron. These waterfalls are collectively known as “Harri Falls” (creative I know), and they are aligned in such a way that from any angle that you look at the mountain from this lake, it looks like the waterfall is falling directly from the snowcaps to Inverno Lake. In actuality, there are almost a couple dozen tiny waterfalls that cascade through Ruha to provide them with hydroelectricity and fresh water and then collect together once more at this massive 300-foot waterfall that you see here.” 

“Wooowwww!” I said in awe. If I concentrated enough, I could see the white stone buildings of Ruha etched into the mountainside. It was hard to peel away from the majesty of the mountain waterfall, yet I forced myself to turn and look at the calm river on the other side of me. 

“Autunno Canal.” Said Wyatt as Angel and Pneuma followed me. “The #1 water roadway for all goods between Alma and Ruha. “It’s a canal? It looks as wide as a river!” 

Wyatt chucked. “Yes, it’s wide, but it narrows as portions of the water get rerouted to our water treatment centers. The narrower parts lead to the water bridge that crosses all of Alma. But you should know this already, Madame President.” 

Right, I should have seen it and should know this already. I looked at the river more and noticed that the water tables on the side looked low. 

“We came to talk about the low water tables with the lake.” I continued my slow walk toward the welcome desk. I took note that the water on the lake side also looked low. 

“Yes, Madame!” Wyatt took off his white hard hat and wiped some sweat away from his brow. It was odd that although this was a power plant, the air conditioning was not turned on. I slowed my pace a bit to grab Angel’s arm. “The air is off here too?” I whispered. 

“By executive order.” He whispered back.  “You agreed with the Department of Energy that all energy should be used for essential purposes. And signed into order that air conditioning is really only something to be used for essential locations. Remember? We talked about it in your office.   Hospitals and the library. All other places have been ordered to temporarily turn off their air for now to conserve on energy.” 

“Ah… I remember now.” 

“Right this way, Madame President!” Wyatt led us down a plain hallway with offices on either side. Lights in this hallway were dimmed but plenty of natural light flowed in from the oversized windows facing the falls. We were escorted to a large conference room with a long, plain brown table and some padded fold-up chairs. 

I walked over to the windows and continued to observe the waterfall and lake. A few small fishing boats and a riverboat were docking on another river to the right of us. Yet another river on the left of the lake looked like another tributary for riverboats to travel. Wyatt broke the silence. “I love breaking away from my work day to just watch the water and the falls. Probably the best part of the job.” 

“I’d say so. I should come up here more often.” I mused. 

“I see tourists are still taking the riverboats up the Primavera River.” Angel pointed to the tourists stepping off of the boat and stopping at a nearby station for a rest break. 

“Yes! At least they still have this activity to do…for now.” Wyatt’s smile faltered. 

“How so? What do you mean by, for now?” I asked. 

“Madame President… you noticed it before. The water… it’s evaporating at a rate faster than we can imagine. On top of that, we have so many repairs to do to the dam. Cracks are appearing in the concrete embankment edges of the reservoir, the canal also need some reinforcement. More importantly, the concrete gravity arch-dam at the top of the falls is in desperate need of repair. As the water freezes in the winter and dries out in the summer, major cracks in the structure have started to form and some parts of the structure look like its about to break. We’d love to go ahead and handle that for the nation, it’s usually not that big of a deal. To repour concrete where needed? But with no budget for projects like these… I just don’t know how long it’s going to last.” Wyatt shook his head and the room grew silent. 

I looked up at the looming Mt. Harri above. “Tell me more about the evaporating snow caps.” 

“Gosh… Madame President. Our summers have been so hot, I’d say we’re losing 2-3, maybe four inches a year. And the bigger problem is that the waterfall, while it looks great, it’s not nearly as powerful as it should be.” He pointed to the 5 towers at the top of the waterfall. “We’ve got about 3/4 of the power we need to power part of Alma with those. Maybe half of the city.”  He then moved his finger down to the two towers at the Primavera River where the riverboat was docked. “Those towers got about half the power they need to power the southern portion of Alma.” He then pointed to the two towers on the opposite side of the lake. “The towers in front of the Estate River, have even less power transporting to northern Alma.” He thumbed behind himself. “And the Autunno Canal has the least amount of power.  The water is too calm and too low. The turbines in the tower in front of it have stopped spinning. We have to rely on backup power and pray for the random summer storms that pass through here for the turbines to spin again.” 

He sighed and shook his head. “It’s a real crisis, Madame President. Before we could easily provide power for all of Alma and even some of Sherah. Now…we’re barely providing half the power to Alma.” 

I looked at the low water tables.  How have I been so clueless to all of this? Before the knockout that is. What was I even doing in office? Sounds like not much but just making a big mess of empty promises to everyone. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“Mr. Castor,” I said as I opened my eyes. I turned to face him directly. “Can you take me to one of the cracks so I can see how bad it is?” 

“I can…but as a President, is it something you should really be doing? It’s not exactly the safest venture.” 

“I want to see. I’ll bring one of my guys,” I pointed back to the secret servicemen standing outside of the office. “And Angel. Pneuma can you wait in the car for us?” 

She and Angel nodded. “Well… if you insist, Madame President. You’ll need a hard hat. I won’t take you up the waterfall. Let’s look at the cracks at the bottom of the Fall.” 

I agreed and followed Wyatt out of the office. Wyatt radioed to a few other engineers in the building to bring us three additional hard hats.  He pointed to my flats, “Where we’re going they might get a little dirty and it’s a bit slippery. Be careful. Alright.” 

“You got it,” I said as I pulled the white hard hat on my head. 

We walked out of the back end of the welcome center which I noticed now rested on the edge of the western side of Inverno Lake. The hydrotower housing the turbine for Autunno Canal was directly below the bridge that crossed the runoff to the canal. I looked up at the sky. Before we stepped into the Welcome Center, no clouds could be seen. Yet now, a single dark cloud hovered above. Nothing to worry about, I thought to myself. So long as it’s just one. Nothing to worry about at all. 

---

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Pneuma led Angel and I out of my office and back to the foyer. By the time we reached the front door, three blacked out SUVs were waiting for us. There were no other markers indicating who we were.  “Why three SUVs?” I asked Pneuma. 

“Oh, you take the middle SUV. Two of your Secret Servicemen will go in the car behind you and two others will go in the car in front of you. You know, for security reasons. 

I nodded my head in understanding and stepped inside. The SUV was set up like a limo with seats facing toward each other.  I chose a seat facing the front of the car. Pneuma and Angel stepped in behind me. Pneuma sat on the seat along the left side windows and Angel sat facing the back of the car. 

After the motorcade departed, Pneuma pulled out a tablet and said, “You wanted to work on bios, right?” 

“Right. Angel, I thought a lot about what you said and decided that we should probably only study the people who would care the most, right? That may have the biggest impact on our decision-making? Based on this, who should we study first?” 

“Sure, how about we batch them even more and pull them out by which city-state they come from? Starting with this one?” 

“Alma? I can do that.” Pneuma pulled together a list of three department heads to explore. 

“How about these three? Birch Cormac of the Department of Almite Agriculture, Herm Kremer of the Treasury and Commerce Department, and Kalei Koen of the Department of State.” She handed over her tablet. She had pulled up three tabs on our government website with the names, faces and descriptions of each person. 

Birch Cormac looked like his occupation. A farmhand with broad muscles and a strong jawline. His dirty blonde hair was neatly combed and parted to the side. The description read, 

Birch Cormac leads the Almite Department of Agriculture. Having spent many years as a worker on his father’s farm and ultimately graduating with a Masters in Agricultural Engineering, Birch knows firsthand all that goes into ensuring that all farmers produce healthy and prosperous crop.  He has put his focus into increasing subsidies for large farm operations so all people across USAR can gain access to food regardless of the harvesting year.

“Huh…” I said. “Birch seems to really want to give the people what they want. Food. That doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

“No it doesn’t,” said Angel. “Just know that Almites, in general, are really into technology and increase. They’re more open-minded to change. Also, the crops they produce must be easy to mass market and easy to package, since the majority of their population spends most time indoors behind a desk.” 

“Got it,” I said as I flipped to the next tab. Herm Kremer. Dressed like a CEO, Herm had a balding head with thick black glasses and a practiced smile. 

 Herm Kremer leads the Treasury and Commerce Department. Based in Alma, the TCD focuses on the creation and distribution of money and controls the Central Bank. Herm formally led a successful career as the head of the Almite branch of the Central Bank and later ventured into the private sector as a prosperous investment and stock broker. His policies as the Head of the TCD is to encourage the universal use of USAR Timonths in all exchanges as well as ensure that all public services are backed by real pay. 

“That seems like a very specific platform to stand on as a Department Head,” I mused as I read aloud. 

“Well…” Angel said sarcasticly, “that’s because not everyone gets paid when they work for you.” 

“Angel!” Pneuma chided him. “Let’s put a positive spin to it and explain.” She turned to me. “Angel’s right. You do have a habit of saying yes to a lot of people’s desires. And because they trust you, they expect payment, but a lot of people are still waiting. Mr. Kremer is doing his best to ensure you keep your word. 

“Fortunately, in your favor, the Sheronites could care less about Timonths because they really do just want to barter amongst each other and the angel-folk would rather just have your time, like one angel I know…” she thumbed back to Angel who continued to pout.  “So you really only need to worry about the Almites who really do care about Timonths.”  

“And what’s a Timonth again?” 

“This,” she opened her tiny red crossbody purse and pulled out a pink and purple dollar bill with my face on it. It said †20,000. “It looks like Monopoly Money. It feels like it too.” 

“That’s becasue it is…” Angel laughed. “It has little to no value right now. That Timonth could buy you a candy bar at a convenience shop. Maybe.” 

My eyes widened. “It’s that bad?” 

“Yup.” Angel crossed his arms and sat back. He turned to watch the world whizz by. 

I looked back down at the tablet. “Dr. Kalei Koen…” I said aloud. “Ooo! She’s pretty!” Kalei was dressed in business blacks, but allowed her long black hair to reach her shoulders. Her smile was open and warm. 

Dr. Kalei Koen leads the Department of State. As department head of all ambassadors from USAR, Kalei spends much time ensuring that all relations between our nation and other nations in the world remain peaceful and friendly. Dr. Koen spent many years abroad throughout the globe and in the UKH studying international affairs and conflict resolution management. While this is her first year as head of the Department, she has done an amazing job establishing a strong relationship with the UKH allowing all humans, beings and angel-folk free access to and from the UKH and USAR.  She is determined to make sure the relations between other nations remains strong while promoting USAR interests across the globe. 

“That sounds impressive!” I looked to Angel who still seemed unimpressed.  My smile faltered.  “What now, Angel?” 

“Not to rain on her parade, but we really only have one international relationship. That’s with the UKH. We don’t have international trade deals because no other nation in Terra acknowledges USAR’s existence.” He continued to stare out the window while he explained it. 

“Oh… wait, why don’t we have other ambassadors anywhere else?” 

“It’s tough. Remember seeing those fist tags around the capital?” 

I thought back to the run down playground in front of my house that I only noticed when I turned on my glasses. Speaking of which…did I turn them off again? I double-tapped my glasses and was hit by a wash of vibrant color. Too much!  I blinked and double-tapped them to turn them off once more. 

“I remember the fist tags. Why? What does it have to do with the ambassadors?” 

Angel looked back at me. “So a new world order has been established in other countries across Terra. It’s called FIST. The Free and Independent States of Terra. The order is both a movement and an economic system that promotes the idea that each nation can be its own nation with its own ideals, traditions, religions and customs, but they must work to protect each other and fight against nations that promote colonialism and conformity. Benefits of FIST is that these nations have a shared currency, travel is free and easy between nations, and they also have a shared military, in case any nation is in need of additional protection.” 

“That doesn’t sound terrible.  I mean, it sounds like it would improve the economic state of our nation.” I held up the pink Timonth Pneuma gave me and handed it back to her. 

“You’d think, right? But the UKH is primarily the nation FIST is fighting against. …And…although you are also ‘free and independent’, we have a strong relationship with the UKH. So it puts us in an ‘awkward’ position.” 

“‘Awkward’!” I snorted. “Sounds like it’s really a major inconvenience!” 

“Yup. But this is what’s really eating up our country right now: You promised to improve relations with FIST. Just like you promised to improve relations with the UKH. You really put Dr. Koen in a tough situation. The two can’t see eye to eye. To move over to FIST’s system would mean that the angel-folk wouldn’t be able to fly Almites and Sheronites to the UKH so easily. The angel-folk would miss their friends and family. And many, like me, with dual-citizenship, would have to choose between which nation they’d rather be a citizen of. Not gonna lie: the UKH has a much stronger economy than yours.” His words stung, but I couldn’t deny that it was true. 

He continued, “Now the consequence of not joining FIST although you promised to improve relations with the order is that FIST has opted to pressure you by denying most trade. Many Free and Independent States have straight up sanctioned you. So economically, you’re struggling. And the people are feeling it. Bad. I hope this explains why you got punched in the face when you met my brother for the first time at that random bar you snuck off to. The people are angry. Half the nation wants you to join FIST to increase trade with all of the rest of the nations of Terra, the planet you live on. The other half strongly want you to remain in alliance with the UKH although the UKH isn’t on this planet.” 

The motorcade started to slow down. Looking out the window, I saw that we were pulling up to the entrance to the dam. Angel turned back to look at me with very serious eyes, “Madame President, sorry to break it to ya, but you’ve gotta make a choice. Soon. The decisions you make moving forward will ultimately be interpretted that you are either pro-FIST or pro-UKH. There is no middle ground.” 

A staff member opened the door to the SUV. Before I stepped out, I nodded to Angel in understanding but remained silent, feeling the full weight of what it really meant to be President. 

---

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Angel was uncharacteristically silent after Voltaire left the office. His eyes were distant, face serious…almost stormy. Pneuma was equally not her usual bubbly self. I looked at both of them unsure of what to say. 

“Well…that was…interesting.” I sighed. 

“Very informative.” Pneuma agreed. Angel still sat in his chair stony and silent. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was a statue. “Madame President, I’ve set up the tours for you this afternoon. What more do you want me to do you need from me before you go?” 

“You know…I realized that I forgot to ask Voltaire about the frayed wiring in the Library’s control room. Can we get an electrician you trust to look into that? I know the Library staff could have called for one, but I want to make sure we get the best of the best electricians on that.” 

“Of course, Madame President.” Pneuma jotted the request down on her phone. “Anything else?” 

I leaned back on the couch in thought and then looked over at Angel. So still. Incredible. “You alright, Angel?” 

“Hmm…” he looked up as if he was rattled from sleep for a moment. “Oh, yes. I’m here, and alright.” 

“What’s on your mind?” I asked. 

Angel waited to speak for another solid half-minute. “I don’t know. I don’t like the options.” 

“What? The mining for FEAR part?” 

“All of it. But especially that part.” 

“Should I decline the meeting?” 

“Well…no.” Angel’s eyes looked up at the ceiling as if an answer could be found there. “You already agreed to a meeting. No one likes following a leader who agrees to things to be friendly but doesn’t really mean it. BUT… I think you need many eyes on this one. Not just yours. Not just mine.” 

“Or mine?” Pneuma chimed with humor. 

“Yours definitely count, Pneuma.  But Madame President, does your cabinet know about this?” 

“My cabinet?” 

“Your trusted advisors. Do you remember who they are?” Angel sat forward in his chair. 

I was racking my brain. Why couldn’t I remember anything?  Taking Angel’s advice, I exhaled, paused, long inhaled, paused, slow exhaled…”And…I got nothing.” 

“It’s alright, Madame President!” Pneuma chimed in with her usual cheery voice. “That’s why you have me!  Here’s your current cabinet.” 

She walked over to the large oak desk, opened a drawer underneath, and pulled out a thick white binder. She flipped to the middle of the pages. “Here they are!” She brought the binder over and laid it in front of me on the coffee table. 

“Uh…what’s this?” 

“Your emergency President’s manual. In case someone had to step into your shoes. Or in this case, if you forgot how to be one.” She chuckled. 

“Wait…I had one of these the entire time? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Well…” she scratched her head. “I was about to tell you about it as you were sitting down at the desk when we first walked in here. But you were about to hyperventilate and got up before we could even show it to you. I didn’t want to freak you out even more with a 500-page manual.” 

“FIVE HUNDRED PAGES!?!” 

“Ha ha… yes… and exactly my point. This would have made you run out of the room.” 

I gripped the edge of the couch. Trembling. Five hundred pages just to tell me how to do my job. “If it makes you feel any better, it really should have been 1,000 pages, but I edited out a lot.” Pneuma continued. 

“You…edited out a lot? Pneuma, did you write this for me?” 

“Uh…no. You had an aide before me. He wrote it and it was well over 1,000 pages of instruction.” 

“I had ANOTHER aide?” 

“Oh yes. He was a bit of a stickler for rule-following. Had no personality at all.” 

“What happened to him?” 

“Oh…well…” she put on an innocent smile. “You met me and let him go. He’s off advising some other President in another country now.” 

“Wait? I did?” 

“I know right? So unlike you and your policy. You hardly ever say no. That’s why everyone elected you!” she chuckled. 

“Wait… they elected me because…” I gasped. 

“Mm-hmm! You said yes to all their demands! You’re just the nicest person in the entire country. You’re definitely an anomaly because you never officially ran for the Presidency. You just happen to know a lot of people and make friends with just about everyone. You spent a whole lot of time looking at the previous Presidents saying, ‘You know what I would do if I was President?’ and then whoever you were talking to, you’d just say whatever they wanted to hear. So people started listening and they were like, ‘You know what? You should be President.’  One of these listeners really believed you and campaigned like crazy for you with the slogan, ‘Brittany will always please!’ and because you’re half-Sheronite, half-Almite and spent a TON of time (like most of your life) climbing Mt. Harri and befriending the angel-folk, the majority of the country wrote your name down as a write-in. And here you are, President of USAR!” Pneuma lifted her arms in as if to say hurrah for dramatic effect. 

I was stunned. What did I get myself into? Angel sat there slowly shaking his head as if I made a really dumb mistake. “Told ya… President sucks. Shoulda chosen Queen or something like that… even a dictator…” 

“Angel!” Pneuma lowered her arms and tsked at him. 

“What!?! Now she has to fulfill all her little promises that she made to these people. And that’s nearly impossible! At least as a Queen or a dictator, she doesn’t have to make any promises to anyone at all. She just does whatever makes her happy and the country just has to deal with it. Easy.” 

“Ugghhh!!!” I yelled. “What the heck was I thinking!?!” I punched the couch cushion below me. 

“You weren’t. That’s why I’m sitting here with you now. That’s why you wanted to die. You can’t do everything they’re demanding of you right now.” This was the first time I heard Angel sound annoyed, but he wasn’t wrong. 

“Alright, alright… now..now…” Pneuma attempted to lighten the mood. “Back to the original question. Your cabinet. They’re listed right here.” 

I looked down at the book. The names of thirty people I most certainly did not remember or know.  The only thing that was helpful to me in this moment were their roles. I recognized Angel’s name on the list along with Voltaire’s. Then there were the names of two secretaries of agriculture: one for Sherah and one for Alma. Then one for the Department of Commerce, then Defense, Education, Energy, Health and Human Services, Homeland Security, Housing and Urban Development, Interior, Labor, State, Transportation, and Treasury… the list went on. 

“What… do I invite them all to this meeting then?” I asked. 

“Do you wanna do things by the book? Or do you wanna do things by your gut?” Pneuma asked. 

“What does the book say?” 

“Well, let me see…” she started flipping through the massive binder. 

“For Most High’s sake!” Angel blurted out. “Blessed be His Name,” he quickly whispered after, “Brittany! No, Madame President! Which roles would be the most helpful to you right now? Don’t overthink it.” 

I shrank a little at his outburst. He softened his tone, took another breath and said, “All I mean is that no one is going to walk away from this meeting fully satisfied. Not you. Not me. Not the entire cabinet. Everyone will want you to approve something from this.” 

I watched his eyes and thought that I could read that there was deeper meaning behind his observation.  “Are you hinting that I’ll need to make a decision after this meeting?” 

“Not right away, no. But here’s the full situation, alright. You said yes to everyone’s demands. And like a good little President, you started fulfilling their promises.  And it looked like it was working in the beginning.  You know, we made a promise to reinstate a Senate and a House of Representatives to balance all of your yeses?  Well, the previous leader dismissed them all and decided to rule things on his own. When you took office, you started with all of the fun promises like free education for all and free public services for everyone…whatever it was… and then… we ran out of money. So when it came time to reinstate the Senate and the House, you couldn’t. And that’s when things fell apart. Majorly.” 

“So, wait? If we ran out of money, how are you getting paid? How is anyone here getting paid? How do I have a nice house like this and such.” 

“Sorry to break it to ya, Madame President, but I have another job. I’m a dual citizen of both this country and the UKH, so I take orders from Most High in the UKH. Almost everyone on the Cabinet is volunteering to help advise you, but they’re not getting paid for their work. They either have another job working for someone else, or they live on the money they inherited or created in the past.” 

“So this is more like an Advisory Board of a company than anything else?” 

“More like an Advisory Board of a charity. But we gotta break the truth to ya. This ‘yes we can!’ mentality has cost us a lot, and I’ve had to work overtime because of it. Your popularity is at its lowest point in any President’s history because you said you wanted to make everyone happy and you couldn’t.

“And truthfully, we’re on the brink of much worse consequences than just low coffers if we don’t figure something out soon. If we don’t fix something soon, I’ll be reprocessing an entire nation, and that’s much harder work than reprocessing a single soul. My advice is do you have anyone in that list who is impartial but can speak truthfully from the perspective on their role? You already know I’m biased because I just can’t get behind Lew. My opinion is that everything he gets his hands into has an ulterior motive that ultimately serves himself. But that’s me.” 

I let his hard, but true words sink in. “Angel. Thank you. I needed to hear that.” I looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t remember or know any of the people on the list other than you and Voltaire, and it would take forever to get to know all of them. Why don’t we do this: Pneuma,” I turned to face her, “Invite everyone. Then send me a bio on each one of them. On the ride over to the dam and the other sites, I’ll study each bio, so I can at least follow along in the conversation when we meet later today.” 

“Sounds like a good plan, Madame President,” said Pneuma as she pulled out her phone. 

“And Angel,” I said as I stood up. “Thanks for being you, despite your biases. I need to hear tough love sometimes.” 

Angel bowed, presented the three-finger salute, and said, “That’s what the Cabinet is for, Madame President. We’re always here for you.” 

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Mr. Voltaire was a ball of sweat by the time Pneuma escorted him into my office. “Madame President…” he said between deep heaves. I couldn’t help but notice the sweat stains showing around his neck and under his pressed white shirt and tie as he bowed as low as he could. and offered a unique three-finger salute with his right hand at the temple, which then covered the lips and finally rested over the heart. I looked to Pneuma and Angel who I saw offered the same gesture back to him, so I followed suit.  

After which, we sat down on the couches. Voltaire chose the plushest armchair. I decided to remain sitting in the loveseat, Pneuma and I shared during our debrief. Angel chose to sit by another armchair closest to the door. The room was awkwardly silent as everyone waited for me to open the meeting. 

My mind racked itself as I attempted to come up with words. What were the pointers Pneuma gave me again before she escorted him in?

“Madame President, keep it simple and short. We have power problems. Mr. Voltaire knows everything about that. The power outages are so widespread that we’ve asked residents of the capital to keep their air conditioning under a particular wattage for now to allow our hospitals and other essential buildings all the power they need. The library is one of those essential buildings because it houses the supercomputer that pretty much runs everything about this nation and the lighthouse that keeps our ships at harbor and airplanes flying into Ruha safe. Start there.” 

Right. Start with power outages. “Um… s-so… Mr. Voltaire…” I started. 

“Madame President…” he said with a lolling Southern accent. “I must say…despite the heat, your makeup is flawless today!” he pulled out a cardboard fan like the ones you would find in an old Southern Baptist Church. “You’ll have to get me the name of your makeup artist. I know so many people who would love to be touched up like you have!” 

“Oh…ah…” I blushed. “Thanks…I guess… I just met her today. She did do a good job, didn’t she!” 

“Oh my, yes she did!” Mr. Voltaire continued to fan himself vigorously. “My goodness, you wouldn’t happen to have some iced tea? Or water, would you? I’m burnin’ up in here.” 

Pneuma was on it. “We can have that ready for you in a few minutes, Mr. Voltaire.” I watched her text a message on her phone to one of the staff members. 

“You know…” I rolled with it. “Now that you mention it. It is hot in here. I’ll also take a water, Pneuma. With no ice.” 

“On it!” Pneuma smiled, sent the message and went right back to her legal pad and pen. 

“Speaking of the heat, Mr. Voltaire…” I started. “Do you think this hot summer has anything to do with the power outages?” 

“My goodness…do I?” he shook his head as he pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his forehead. “Permission to speak my mind, Madame President?” I nodded. 

“I think the drought’s to blame. I think the storms are to blame. I think the deteriorating infrastructure’s to blame. I think that us not having a budget to run a decent government is to blame. I even think there might even be some foul play here and there. But where I mostly think the blame is…is with Mother Nature herself.” 

“Mother Nature?” 

“The one and only! You can’t deny it! The climate’s changin’ and it’s killin’ us left and right!” He waved his fan around his head in exasperation. 

“Madame President… the whole country is both sinkin’ and fryin’ at the same time… and I… I can only tell people to conserve the little energy they have…” he wiped a tear from his eye. “All of the trade embargoes and tariffs from other nations on our exported goods… it’s killin’ us… ya know?  Being a tiny island nation, we can’t go on being self-sufficient like this forever.” 

I looked down at my hands. I didn’t know what to say. I mean, these were real problems around the world, right? But what could I say… I still had no answers on how to undo sanctions and embargos or fix Mother Nature, let alone fix the money problems of a nation.  I had too many money problems of my own, just newly married and trying to run a household in another universe. 

A staff member gently knocked and walked in with our drinks. We were all silent as she placed them on the coffee table.  Angel didn’t speak up until she walked out and closed the door behind her. “Until we can convince the other nations to lift their trade embargoes on our goods…” he asked, “where do you suggest we start for now?” 

Voltaire ran his now very damp handkerchief around the back of his thick neck.  “If I were you, I’d check the dam first since it’s so close.  Our reports show that there’s some cracks in the dam that’s letting too much water out. On top of that, our water tables are lookin’ very low because the snowcaps are evaporating faster than we can blink. So we’re losing power there. 

“Then I’d talk to the windfarmers up in Ruha.  They got a few windmills runnin’ as backup for the dam.  Word has it that the heat is also slowing down the wind angels from their capabilities. So the windmills aren’t producing enough energy either. 

“Finally, I’d fly over to Sherah and check out one of the solar farms we got on the border of the desert.” He rocked back a little in his chair. “My teams out there have been complaining that the panels haven’t been working right, but our hands have been a bit tied since we don’t have the budget to update them right now.” 

Voltaire paused for a long while and took a sip of his tea. He sat silently in deep contemplation. 

“Mr. Voltaire…” I broke the silence. He broke from his inner thoughts and brushed a sandy lock of hair away from his face. His light blue eyes locked on mine.  “Forgive my intrusion, but what city-state are you from?” 

“Why…Sherah, Madame President. Lecteri Tribe actually. Why?” 

“Just curious. I was admiring your accent is all.” 

“Oh… my accent definitely is of a Lecteri dialect. We’re the closest tribe to Alma, right? And my family owned some pretty large plantations on very fertile soil at one point. So our accent is a slight mix between the farmers of Sherah and the higher society of Alma. My Daddy was incredibly wealthy from selling his crop in Alma and then trading Almite goods in Sherah. Left me a very large inheritance. But ya know…” 

“What?” I leaned in. 

“I just couldn’t continue the family business knowing what I’ve seen being a trader’s boy throughout Sherah. How it all works… How the weak suffer while the strong survive. That’s how it is throughout Sherah. But you must know that, Madame President. Being part Sheronite yourself.” 

I am? I silently thought to myself. Since when?

“Anyway, I digress. I went to school in Alma and got into the family business of my grandfather on my mother’s side instead. Electricity. First as an electrician in people’s homes… then got into the generating industry.  How electricity’s made. Started a solar business right in our backyard since our village gets more than enough sun. When my for-profit solar business started generating some excess money, I started a non-profit supplying all the villages back in Sherah with generators and solar panels to power their homes. Most of Sherah doesn’t have access to a power grid, so these were incredibly helpful. One of your staff members had been following my work for a little bit, and asked you to check my stuff out and you know the rest of the story…” 

I think Angel caught on that I offered Voltaire a look like I didn’t know the rest of the story because Angel filled in, “You were hired on as the first Sheronite Head of the Department of Energy. A somewhat new position in USAR history, but a much-needed one.” 

Voltaire turned to Angel and offered a nod of gratitude. “Why thank you, Angel! That means a lot, especially coming from the angel-folk.” 

Angel smiled and said, “Anytime! It has been your oversight on the unique design of the supercomputer-lighthouse wind turbine that has kept the nation from completely shutting down all this time. I think the entire nation is eternally in your debt.” 

Voltaire blushed at this, but then his voice turned serious. “Madame President, speaking from experience, we really do need to be looking at all of the options we have for energy sources.  Currently, we have been using all-renewable energy to power the country. While it is so much better for the environment and I love how beautiful our land is… it’s just…it’s just not enough…” His face was crestfallen. He let out a deep breath and continued. 

“Look, the water’s either evaporating or our dam can’t hold the water and we lose it anyway, there’s wind but it comes and goes, and we don’t have enough money to make the necessary upgrades or repairs we need to generate the power our cities and nations need to keep the lights on, power the internet, and keep the general functions of life (like the EV only car policies you have for the entire population).  We can’t import energy like oil or coal from other nations due to our really poor/ non-existent trading policies… and all other energy sources (natural gas, nuclear, etc)… we either don’t have enough of internally, can’t afford, or it’s just not reliable.” He paused to let the full situation sink in. 

“But…we did get an offer from someone who claims that we sit on a very large deposit of another material. It’s not renewable, but it looks promising. My team is doing the research on it now.” 

Everyone sat up at this new solution. “We’re listening,” I said. 

“Y’all ever heard of F.E.A.R.?” We shook our heads. 

“I didn’t hadn’t either, but it looks like this whole island is sitting on a massive deposit of it. It stands for Fluorescent Extraterrestrial Acidic Resin. Now, it’s only fluorescent if you got the Ultraviolet upgrades on your glasses or are angel-folk or another being that can see ultraviolet already. But from what they tell me, it can be mined like coal and pulverized into a fine powder. It’s all organic and actually safe enough to eat or drink if you wanted to.  Has the same properties as a concentrated shot of caffeine.  Stuff’s so potent that you really only have to use a little bit of it to power a tiny village. My research team has tested it on a few villages in Sherah and a pound of it has powered the town for an entire month! Get that? A month!” Voltaire looked so elated at this prospect. 

I looked at Angel and Pneuma.  Angel looked skeptical. Pneuma looked unsure. “Sounds…interesting, I guess. I think I need to learn more to fully form an opinion.” I responded. 

Voltaire sat back and fanned his face. “Oh, of course! That’s why I wanted to ask when’s the soonest that you can meet with the investment group sponsoring the mining of this material?” 

I sat back… Oh! He wanted to meet again about this? Soon?

Pneuma pulled out her phone and said, “Madame President, it’s up to you but I do see some spots open on your calendar today and tomorrow.” 

I sat in silence for a solid minute until the curiosity of it all overtook me. “Oh, what the heck? Can’t hurt to learn more, right? Pneuma, book it for this afternoon.  Do you know if it’s possible to check out the other sites on the island beforehand? Or do we need to book those for a different day?” 

“That’s what Presidential vehicles are for!” she winked. “Alright. I got your calendar set for the dam in the next hour, the wind farm two hours from then, the solar farm another two hours from then and then back here by the late afternoon, early evening for a meeting on FEAR. You still have this meeting at night with Coach V set. Did you still want me to keep that? Are you feeling up to it?” 

“Keep the meeting.” I seriously needed to confront this Coach V face to face. 

“Alright! Everything is set!” 

“Oh, one more thing before we end the meeting,” I turned to Voltaire. “Who are we meeting with about FEAR again?” 

“You heard of Lew Ipher?” 

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