Time Bomb

He got off the desk, flipped his jacket over one shoulder, and came my way. I held the door open for him and we stepped out into the hall. Ahlward followed us, silently, but remained in the doorway of the classroom. Latch gave him a short nod and the redheaded man closed the door, resumed the folded-arms, Secret Service stance, and looked up and down the corridor, a reflexive watchdog.

Latch pressed his back flush against the wall and bent one leg. The harmonica sagged in his pocket. The lenses of his welfare glasses were crystal-clear, the eyes behind them restless. “Good group of kids,” he said.

“Yes, they are.”

“They seem to be handling things pretty well.”

“That’s true too.”

“Though it seems to me,” he said, “that they’re a bit understimulated- not to know where San Francisco is, the Golden Gate Bridge. The system’s failing them, has a long way to go before it does right by them.”

I said nothing.

He said, “So. What’s on your mind, Alex?”

I said, “With all due respect to your intentions, Councilman, it would be best to let me know the next time you’re pla

He seemed puzzled. “Why’s that important to you?”

“Not me. Them. To keep things predictable.”

“How so?”

“They need consistency. Need to feel a stronger sense of control over their environment, not have any more surprises thrown at them.”

He lifted his glasses with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other. I noticed that the skin behind the freckles was ruddy, tinged with bronze; since the sniping he’d taken some sun.

When the spectacles were back in place he said, “Maybe we got our signals crossed, Alex, but I thought this was exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you said you wanted that first time we met. Accurate information- firsthand information. Bypassing the red tape. Bud and I have been cleared by the cops in terms of informational flow, so I figured why not?”

“What I had in mind was something a little more organized,” I said.

He smiled. “Going through cha

“That’s not always a bad idea.”

“No, of course not. The thing is, Alex, this wasn’t really pla

Gri

“I understand, Councilman-”

“Gordon.”

“I appreciate what you wanted to do, Gordon, but with all these kids have been through, it’s best to coordinate things.”

“Coordinate, huh?” His blue eyes stopped moving and got hard. “Why do I feel all of a sudden as if I’m back in school myself? Being called into the principal’s office?”

“That’s not what I intend-”

“Coordinate,” he said, looking away from me and giving a short, hard laugh that percussed in his chest and died before it got to his throat. “Go through cha

I said, “What exactly is your plan, Gordon?”

He turned back to me. “My plan? I just told you there was none.”

“Your intention, then, in terms of the kids.”

“My intention,” he said, “was to break the ice with a little help from L.D., then field their questions. Give them a chance to throw stuff at me- anything they want. Give them a chance to find out the system can work for them, once in a while. Give them the opportunity to learn from Bud what it feels like to be a hero. My intention was to listen to their feelings and share mine- what it felt like to be under fire. The fact that we’re all in this together- we’d better pull together or the planet’s in trouble. I was just about to get into that when you came in.”

Sidestepping the reproach, I said, “Were you pla

“Sure. Why not?”

“To do it thoroughly might take quite a bit of time. Several days. The media are bound to find out you’re here. Once they do, we run the risk of more commotion.”

“The media can be handled,” he said quickly. “My only goal is to protect the little guys.”

“From what?”

“Not what, Alex. Whom. The users. People who’d think nothing of exploiting them for personal gain.”

He emphasized the last three words and paused, shot a knowing look over at Ahlward, who remained stoic.

“The sad thing is,” he said, “with what they’ve experienced here- what they’ve seen of the political process- they run a heavy risk of growing up cynical. Uninvolved. Which doesn’t bode well for us as a society, does it? We’re talking stagnation, Alex. To the extent that that kind of thing takes over on a large scale, we’re really in trouble. So I guess what I want is for them to see that there can be another side to politics. That there’s no need to stagnate or give up.”

From erosion to stagnation. My second dose of political rhetoric in as many days.

I said, “Another side as opposed to the one represented by Assemblyman Massengil?”

He smiled. “I won’t kid you. My opinions on Assemblyman Massengil are public record. The man’s a dinosaur, part of an era that should be long-forgotten. And the fact that he’s involved has made me take a special look at this situation. This city’s changing- the entire state is. The world is. There’s a new age of transworld intimacy that won’t be stopped. We’re inexorably linked to Latin America, to the Pacific Rim. Cowboy days are gone, but Sam Massengil hasn’t the vision to conceive of that.” Pause. “Has he been causing any more problems for you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? Don’t be shy about letting me know, Alex. I’ll ensure you’re not caught in the middle.”

“I appreciate that, Gordon.”

His flipped his jacket forward and slipped it on. Patted his hair. “So,” he said, smiling, “this must be fulfilling work.”

“It is.”

“I notice there’s this other psychologist doing a lot of speechifying to the media. Fellow with a beard.”

“Lance Dobbs. So far he’s limited his involvement to talk.”

“You mean he hasn’t actually been here?” Indignation, mock or otherwise.

“No, he hasn’t, Gordon. One of his assistants came by but I convinced Dr. Dobbs that too many cooks would spoil the broth and she hasn’t been back since.”

“I see,” he said. “That’s certainly true- too many cooks. True in lots of other regards.”

I didn’t respond.

He said, “So. You feel you have it worked out. With Dr. Dobbs.”

“So far so good.”

“Excellent. Good for you.” He paused, touched his harmonica pocket. “Well, good luck and more power to you.”

The old two-handed grip and a nod at Ahlward. The redheaded man moved away from the door and smoothed his lapels. From inside the classroom came shouts and laughter, the young teacher’s voice, tight with frustration, trying to be heard over the tumult.

Latch turned his back on me. The two of them began walking away.

I said, “Pla

He stopped, and lowered his eyebrows, as if pondering a question of cosmic proportions. “You’ve given me food for thought, Alex. I really heard you. About doing it right. Coordinating. So let me bounce it around, check my calendar, and get back to you.”