Though sweat dripped in his eyes, Leo Torres kept his gaze fixed on that lengthening, erect white dot coming toward him. The dot had feet, white shoes, legs, a white dress, hair -- white also? -- and a white parasol. If Leo prayed, he would have given thanks as he realized at last, that he was indeed approaching a young woman on this forgotten, overgrown roadway at the very end of the world.
As her features came into view, he realized that he had no idea what to do. Would she consider him a threat in this wilderness? Should he think of her as a threat? Should he pass her with eyes averted, as he would have carefully done on city streets, or should he acknowledge her in some way as he passed on? Was there any way at all to stop her, talk to her in some way, keep her vision before him?
She was angelic. She radiated white, whiter than anyone he had ever seen before. Whiter than a new baby. Everything she wore was white, her glowing whiteness blotted out the colors around her, so that she seemed in a special atmosphere of whiteness. Leo realized that his vision, and maybe all his faculties, were distorted by the long hours and exertion in the sun. He almost sighed a reply when she evaporated his discomfort by speaking first:
"Are you the Commissioner?"
In his lifetime, Leo Torres had never been known to blush, he had never been known to show embarrassment or anything beyond a taciturn indifference. It was only his exhaustion, and maybe a little surprise, that made him wait so long to answer.
Finally: "Commissioner of what?"
"From the government, from the revolution. Are you the Commissioner they sent us?" She seemed so pleased, so expectant, so welcoming. Why would anybody care about Leo Torres?
"I'm from the Provisional Government..." he admitted.
"Thank goodness!" she gushed excitedly, and took his hand in both of hers. "I'm Jane Early. I've been waiting for hours! I was sure you'd be in a car, but Dr. Johns said you'd be on horseback or in a fine carriage. But everybody was sure you'd have an entourage. Are you really alone?" She waited only a second, but Leo wasn't giving any answers and she, apparently, didn't need any: "I thought you'd have a car and I thought I'd walk to meet you, even if I had to walk past the river, but Dr. Johns said that you wouldn't let me ride back with you so the best way I would get to talk with you would be just to wait, so I waited and waited, but I sort of edged out toward you, and now I'm pleased I did, because I have you to myself for the last mile!"
Another mile?
She went on chattering as Leo wearily began pushing his bicycle beside her. One more mile? How long is a mile? It couldn't be a lot, because he must have already covered twenty... Meanwhile, the shimmering angel accompanying him began asking questions that he could hardly answer if he wanted, and he wasn't at all sure that he wanted.
Leo was drawn to this young woman. She had, for one thing, surely saved him from his nightmare road trip. She was by far the best vision he had experienced in that day, or the past week, or for how long? Best of all, she did all of the talking. Leo was drawn to people who took over conversations and allowed him to listen, or not listen, as he chose. He didn’t like to talk.
She asked, "Is the fighting over?" "Will it get any hotter?" "How much has the climate changed?" “How far inland has the ocean come?” "Are other people producing food, besides us?" "How many died?” “How many are left?" "Do the trains go everywhere now?"
He answered that one: "They say so, in North America anyway."
"Will there be different governments in different areas, like there were before? Or will they try to do it all in one world government? Or will it be some kind of federation? You didn't say if the fighting was really over?"
Leo responded, "I don't know. Probably." He could have told her that all organized fighting seemed to have stopped. He could have said that there was still plenty of danger. If he wanted, he could have mentioned that nobody knew for sure if all the nuclear weaponry was accounted for, or not.
"The big question is when will we get electricity. That's what everybody is going to ask you. You might as well be ready to answer that, even if you don't answer anything else."
"I don't know. Maybe never." He could have added that electricity might be used for communications, but probably not for power. He had heard it emphasized that fossil fuels could not be used again, ever. But he didn't see any reason to speculate.
"But isn't there a big flowering of inventiveness, like Dr. Suez said they had after the French Revolution, or the Russian Revolution? Aren't people finding new sources of energy, ways to stay warm? Isn't there great hope in new, technical ways to support populations?"
"I don't know. Mostly, they just try to get canned goods near the railroad stations. They haven't run out of cans. It’s outside my area."
"Are they going to turn energy into money? Dr. Suez says they will. He says that the most critical commodity now is energy, and that everything else will have to be figured out in some kind of energy credits. Dr. Suez is very inventive. He can't wait to try everything out. Dr. Johns is having a hard time keeping him at the project because he, Dr. Suez, wants to join in what he calls the 'great flowering.'"
"How much further?" Leo disliked having to admit that the heat, the sun, and his own sodden clothing were getting the better of his worn-out physique.
"We're here!" she replied. "It's right to the left there. It used to be the Sasakwa High School, 'Home of the Vikings,' but now it's just the Spring Hill Laboratories. Dr. Johns calls it the hope of the world."
At the top of the hill, Leo could make out a few metal roofs over a small complex of time-wearied buildings. Other, smaller, more dilapidated and abandoned, structures lay between the two of them and what now seemed, to Leo, like the best haven he could find.
A few feet out from the buildings, the grass had been cut. It was the first effort he had seen to resist the incursion of insistent nature, and a strangely welcome sight. On the long porch sat several people expectantly watching the approaching pair.
The smells, the heat, and the intrusive greenery didn’t really change as Leo and Jane approached their destination. Off to his right, Leo could see, through the oppressive plant life, a few buildings that were far beyond mere abandonment. Roofs were missing, entire walls had slipped out of conformity, and the plants were taking them over just as they were taking over the roadway and the rest of the world in view. It wasn’t war damage, Leo noted, but age and neglect that had ended whatever order had ever existed in Sasakwa, Oklahoma.
To his left, as they approached the settlement, he could make out a cleared spot. It wasn’t exactly a lawn, and it certainly wasn’t trim, but the more aggressive plants had been cleared back from the sprawling white house revealed before him. The long, luxurious porch wrapped halfway around the building testified to a long ago leisurely lifestyle. The place had seen better days, much better days probably, but still seemed inhabitable, even comfortable. A small group stood just inside the shade of the porch. They were waiting for Leo.
Jane cheerfully took Leo's bicycle toward the rear while the others came forward.
The tallest of them extended his hand. He was older, Caucasian. His beard was mostly white and just barely resisting whatever attempts had been made to keep it in trim. His pale business suit, which had also seen better days, showed the same slightly failed attempt at neatness and legitimacy. He showed his teeth in a smile that was probably meant to be exuberant. He pumped Leo’s hand strongly. Leo didn’t smile, but watched him carefully.
“There,” he said, nodding toward someone behind him, “It was as I said. You didn’t come in an automobile. I’ll admit that I never thought of a bicycle, but I told everybody that you wouldn’t use a powered vehicle. A car would have set a terrible example. If our new government says they are verboten, then they’re verboten for everybody!”
He continued, “Welcome, Commissioner! I am Doctor Anson Johns, and we of Spring Hill Laboratories welcome you with the greatest enthusiasm. Let me present everyone. This is Dr. Albert Suez, one of the keenest engineers you will ever want to meet...”
A powerfully muscular, clean-shaven man with an intense stare stepped forward to wring Leo’s hand. He spoke deferentially, “Commissioner.” He sounded almost grateful to Leo, and seemed to have more to say. But he stepped back as Johns went on.
“This is Mrs Davis, the actual power who runs everything around here, with Jane’s help. You already met Jane.” The middle-aged woman in work clothes and a big white apron did not step forward, but attempted a kind of clumsy curtsy, bow, or at least a nod, from the porch. Housekeeper, Leo assumed.
Somebody had to say something, so Leo acknowledged the entire ritual with, “Thanks.”
“We’ll let Jane show you your quarters. I certainly hope they are adequate. If you need more space for your activities here, please let me know. If you have special dietary needs, or any kind of needs for your comfort, please don’t hesitate to tell Mrs. Davis. We want you, and the new government, to know that we are cooperating in every way. We intend to deny you nothing here at Spring Hill.”
Leo kept silent. He had already made his contribution to the pleasantries.
“Jane, I’m sure the Commissioner may want to wash up and, possibly, rest before dinner, so I’ll entrust him to you for now.” The alabaster woman was back, beaming again at Leo.
As she led him down the longer side of the porch, Jane again began pelting Leo with questions. “That was interesting,” she said. “Why did Dr. Johns make such a fuss over you? Does he know you from before, or is he just trying to show how much he cares about the new government? Do you think he really does care? He’s mentioned, in fact he’s mentioned quite a lot, that he is friends with one of the top leaders. Does that mean that he thinks you’ll be reporting favorably back to his friend? Why would he care so much? It’s not like him to make a fuss about anybody. Do you think that perhaps there’s just something about you that impressed him, so immediately and so favorably, that he seemed to change his everyday nature? Are you a psychologist, like he is? Do you particularly like psychologists? Do you know something that he wants to find out about? I guess that’s it, we’re so far away from anything here...”
Leo responded as before, no more than he had to, and with limited information. “Yes.” “I’m sure.” “Probably.” “I’m not sure.” “It’s not my area.”
Leo’s quarters consisted of a section at the shady end of the long porch. Two of the walls consisted mostly of large screens, so that, with the breeze and shade, it was probably the coolest, or the least steamingly hot, section of the house. There was a single bed, a wash basin with a towel, and a makeshift work area with a large desk and a table shoved against it. Notebook paper and pens were laid out on the desk. Clearly, Leo’s host had set up an office because he intended to keep him here, if he could.
“The toilet works, but we have to haul in water for it. We’ll do that every time you leave, or whenever you ask. Would you like to rest and compose yourself before dinner?” Jane asked him.
“No,” he told her briefly, “Just wait a minute while I wash up and I’ll be ready for whatever is next.” He dropped his backpack beside the bed, then, ignoring her, he stripped off his shirt and approached the basin. There, he gratefully splashed water over his upper body and rubbed himself with the towel. Jane Early watched without comment or expression. He noted that she picked up his sweat soaked shirt as soon as he threw it down.
Leo drew a clean shirt from his pack and opened his pants to tuck the shirt tail in. He glanced at the woman, who still watched him straightaway. She was politely waiting to ask more questions.
“OK,” Leo said, resisting an unfamiliar urge to smile.
As soon as they began moving into the interior of the house, Jane Early resumed pelting Leo with her obsession to know everything. Because she didn’t really insist, Leo was comfortable stringing her along. In the parlor of the house, Doctors Johns and Suez waited patiently for Leo.
As soon as they arrived, Johns called out, “OK Mrs Davis, whenever you’re ready.” Leo sat down on a long couch. Jane Early sat as close to him as she politely could. “Would you say that our area of the country is ahead of the rest, since there’s almost no war damage? Or would you say...”
“Jane,” Dr. Johns interrupted with a patronizing smile, “I know you’re eager to find out everything you can, but the Commissioner has endured a long hard trip and probably isn’t ready to answer quite so much.” Looking at Leo, he added, “And important representatives of our new government may not be ready, for that matter, to talk about things that haven’t been completed or even completely decided. You have to give the man some leeway.”
After a short hesitation, he added, “Besides, Jane, give the rest of us a chance to ask what’s going on!”
Dr. Suez then suddenly sat forward in his chair and asked, “Will you be delivering some kind of a report while you’re here, or are you primarily interested in gathering information at this point?” As Leo did not respond, he said, more apologetically, “I only ask because of my enthusiasm. I know that others, like myself, would like to present our own, probably of marginal utility, ideas about things that could be done...”
Leo knew that it was true that people everywhere were coming up with ideas and inventions, and that, while the new government welcomed them, there had so far been no formal way to gather or catalog them, let alone discuss implementation. To the whole group, he said, “The truth is that I can’t respond to your questions because I just don’t know. Everybody had an area of work during the actual fighting, and everybody has an area of work now. Mine, for the time being, is just to come here. Everything else is, basically, out of my area.”
Dr. Johns clarified, “Unless I am completely mistaken, everyone, the Commissioner has come here because I asked for him.” He waited, but Leo would not deny nor confirm. Johns continued, “I asked for him because we can’t continue our work under the present, uh..., authority, or lack of authority, that prevails.” He turned directly to Leo, “These gun-toting so-called revolutionaries won’t let me turn on our generator. During and even before this revolution, we made important scientific advances here at Spring Hill. We’re very close to consolidating those advances into a breakthrough that will, it isn’t too grandiose to say, it will positively affect humanity’s entire future. The generator burns natural gas, which is produced right here on Spring Hill Farm. It is the absolutely least-polluting kind of energy possible. And only a few more weeks of work may very well be enough for us to have changed the course of events forever. A simple nod from you Commissioner, assuming that the people with the guns have any real conviction and any real dedication to any kind of revolutionary process at all, and that they recognize your authority, a simple nod from you will earn the eternal gratitude of future mankind.”
“Yes,” Dr. Suez agreed, “I guess that is the main thing, Commissioner. We just want to get back to work. We probably shouldn’t bother you with anything else.”
Jane Early watched intently. Leo shifted his weight on the couch. His mission was becoming more clear to him at last. Johns wanted permission to break the moratorium on fossil fuel use, and the local authorities, or "people with guns" weren’t letting him. Clear mission or no, Leo wasn’t at all sure what he wanted to do about it, or even if he wanted to do anything one way or another. And, if this big white doctor-guy thought he could line up Leo just because he had friends in high places, he may as well think again. Leo said nothing.
Nevertheless, he was relieved to hear Mrs. Davis’ voice from the dining room, “It’s ready.” Everyone stood, and Dr. Johns waved his arm graciously, “After you.” Leo followed the dinner cry and the increasingly pleasant aromas into the adjoining dining room. There, he realized there that Dr. Johns did indeed plan to cut no corners in trying to please and curry favor with his guest. Leo saw a large table laden with a half dozen bowls of colorful vegetables arranged, as if around a royal throne, around a bronzed roasted turkey. There were long-stemmed wine glasses and cloth napkins. Candles had been lit. Every plate had three forks. Leo had seen such feasts in magazine pictures, but never joined in one. In Leo’s recently abused nostrils, the odor of the countryside was suddenly transformed into something warm, comfortable, and seductively inviting.
Leo, as he might have guessed, was seated in the place of honor at the head of the table. Dr. Johns, though, did not assume the other end, but sat at Leo’s right. Dr. Suez took a seat at his left, and Jane Early, apparently intending to help serve the meal, sat furthest away from Leo and nearest the door leading to the aromatic kitchen.
The food was as good as it smelled. Dr. Johns made sure to refill Leo’s wine glass, as well as his own, every time that Leo drank. The wine was good. If the idea was to get Leo comfortable, or in an affable mood, or perhaps in a charitable mood, then they were assuredly making their best effort. Leo wasn’t worried, though, getting drunk and doing something uncontrolled was not something he worried about. He had experience. “Let them try!” he thought as he began ravishing the food and drink.
“Generally,” Dr. Johns began very pleasantly, “What is your opinion of the progress being made? Are you generally satisfied with the revolution as it’s developing?”
Leo responded, “It’s my first.”
“Of course, of course. They’re all different, I suppose. I’ve read a bit about Cuba and Vietnam. I once read a rather long description, by Trotsky, of the Russian revolution, or at least of the insurrectionary period. My favorite, though, was Marx’s description of the Paris Commune. They’re all different, and there’s never been one like what is happening now. There’s never been a revolution worldwide, and there’s never been one in the single most important industrialized nation.”
"As I understand it," Johns went on, "capitalism just broke down completely. Their myths just didn't convince anybody any more. The Greens could have taken power by themselves, but they had no idea what to do beyond protesting capitalism, so they made a alliance with you communists. Does that describe it?"
Leo didn't know. "They made a deal," he offered.
The stout Dr. Suez saw his opportunity to join in, “After the French revolution, that was a capitalist revolution, the scientific world was completely torn apart and rebuilt. It seems to me that such a thing must be transpiring now, in other parts of the world. Would you say so, Commissioner?”
Leo hardly knew what they were talking about, but he realized that he had seen much more of the world and the revolution than these isolated country people had, and he saw no reason to hoard his opinions, especially when the food and wine kept coming. “Well, I don’t know about tearing apart the scientific world. You realize, I guess, that a lot of the motivation for revolution came from people who were, sort of, anti-science. In other words, science, from their point of view, was what had made the air unbreatheable and the water undrinkable. Those people, even now, are almost fanatically against any new developments, especially if they might lead to energy use.”
“What are scientists doing?” Suez asked with great expectancy. “About the only thing I hear about is what they call ‘rationalization of work.’ As I understand it, they’re trying to figure out what jobs really need to be done, and they’re trying to figure out what people need to do them. I understand that some agricultural work is to be done alternately with office or construction work. Somebody might work in manufacturing for a shift and then do a shift in the country, I guess. Then the problem comes up of where are these workers going to live and how are they going to get from one place to the next. So, then they have to figure out housing and transportation problems. That leads, I guess, to how to provide food, and then child care.”
Suez was getting excited, “Our new society wants to make sense of these problems rather than just let them be settled by the profit system or some other arbitrary motivation.”
“We’re done with the profit system,” Leo opined.
Johns lifted his glass. “Bless them all,” he said. “Once all the work is rationalized, then everybody will know exactly what is expected of them and, if everything works right, they won’t mind doing it. Furthermore, they will be able to do it, and the new system will be a great success. It does, though, you’ll have to admit, sound a little bit like an ant hill, doesn’t it? After all, every ants knows his job and is apparently happy to do it. Nobody ever heard an ant complain, at least!” He took a long drink, then refilled his glass and Leo’s.
Suez took exception: “It’s not the same as ants. They just do the bare minimum, whatever they have to do to survive. People are capable of great accomplishments, sublime accomplishments I might say, and what’s going on might release whatever is sublime in all of us.”
Jane was bringing dishes in and out. She jumped in: “I don’t think people are like ants. I’ll admit that I don’t know very much about people, or ants either, for that matter. But I don’t think people are like ants.”
Johns was bemused. He seemed unaware of, or unconcerned by, his patronizing tone. “I think the point is that we can’t just re-structure activities or just re-align hierarchies and expect any real improvement. I think the Russians proved that. They had their revolution and their great expectations. They raised a dozen generations of children on their high hopes and fine ideas. Then they let it all go because they couldn’t get television recording devices. One day they were leading the world into outer space, and the next day they were selling their daughters to westerners. They were right back where they started, or even worse.”
Leo was glad to be left out of these exchanges. He had, for years, listened to the top leaders of the revolutionary process as they discussed their projections and selections. He hadn’t paid a lot of attention to it, unless there was action to be taken and planning in the works, and he saw even less reason to pay attention now, when everyone, not just the devoted revolutionaries, was only speculating.
But Suez and Johns seemed to be getting at some submerged difference of opinion. And the white-haired woman, whether she intended it or not, was bringing them toward the surface with her naive and incessant questioning. Leo didn’t know what their difference might be, nor did he care. But he was interested in finding out what kind of people he would be dealing with, so he listened while trying to appear indifferent.
Suez was saying, “Jane, you’re right. People aren’t ants. Ants live and die just as they were, but people improve.”
Johns couldn’t let it go by, “Do they? Do people really improve? Are people today any better than our ancestors in caves? What’s good about people today that wasn’t good about them then? People take care of their children, do they? Isn’t that inspiring! Well, possibly they do. But cave people did, too. They couldn’t have survived if they didn’t. Do people care about each other? I suppose they do, but then, they always did. Evolution hammered those so-called “positive” traits into us by mercilessly extinguishing all our competitors who didn’t have them. But I don’t think you could make a case that people are actually any better today than they were thousands of years ago, and some people would make the case, pretty convincingly, that that they’re worse!”
Suez apparently did not want to contradict Johns directly, but, with Leo there and some small hope that he might intervene, he was brave enough to continue the argument. He preferred, nontheless, to direct comments, meant for Leo and Dr. Johns, to Jane. “Just look at your own feelings, Jane, don’t you think you can improve, or that you have improved?”
Before she could answer, Johns cut in arrogantly, “Living in this world, there is only one exception to what I said about people, Suez, and you know it!”
Leo was listening, but only by force of habit. His main interest had been absorbed in a miracle that he had never experienced before – southern pecan pie. Once dessert had begun, Mrs Davis brought in more glasses and two large bottles of what turned out to be brandy. She brashly interjected her own question directly to Leo, “I just want to know one thing.” Jerking her head toward Dr. Johns, she asked, “Is his money still any good?” Leo didn't know, but he nodded.
Suez faltered, apparently intimidated by Johns, but the unflappable Jane Early tried to synthesize the arguments: “So, then people haven’t made any progress at all, at least not in their basic nature, except for this one exception of yours. From the way you’ve been acting, I have to assume you mean the Commissioner,” She walked close and laid her hand on Leo’s shoulder. It was almost a caress. “He’s the only one I’ve seen you act exceptionally nice toward.”
Leo could see the extra gleam of alcohol in Johns’ eyes, and he assumed the same glaze was on his own, but he was neither intimidated by the conversation nor cautious about whatever role he might have in it. He knew that his own strength was not in discussing nor in arguing. It was in fighting. “If you are trying to flatter me, Dr. Johns, to get an exception to the energy moratorium, think again on it.” He decided to add a little more tension, “And,” he went on while shrugging the soft white fingers off his shoulder, “If you are hoping to have your little albino sway me one way or another, forget that, too!”
Jane Early stepped backward. Dr. Suez looked away. Dr. Johns dropped his bemused personna and said slowly in the coldest tones, “Jane is not albinic. You’d have known that if you had noticed her eye color. Nor, and I want to make this as clear as possible, does Jane Early belong to me, or to anyone.”
Leo kept his eyes on Johns, to make sure that the doctor knew that he wouldn’t be intimidated. Then, slowly, he turned curiously toward the pale woman to curiously observe her eye color. She was looking straight at him, and her hand was drawn toward her mouth in shock or embarrassment. The eyes were large, moist, and sensitive. The corneas were a deep green, twice as striking below the soft white lashes and brows. He was lost in the instant. Then he turned away suddenly, when he noticed that the liquid at the bottoms of her eyes was rising.
No one spoke. Leo rose and walked to his quarters. Arguments seldom excited him.
**
Dr. Albert H. Suez and the others retired, but Suez was far too excited to sleep. He was not at all sure what the revolution had been about, as he had never participated or even followed news about it. Like most Americans, he had given up on trying to outsmart the information sources. The result of universal distrust had been that the world's people, drowning in a sea of swirling mis-information, knew almost nothing that they could rely on.
But now that the Provisional Government was claiming to be the new source of order, Suez realized that he was glad. He realized that he had wanted, his entire life, to use his mechanical abilities for some good purpose. In a world of alienation and distrust, the world that had been his for his entire life, he had seen few opportunities to do what he considered meaningful work, even though he was sure of his skills as an engineer. He had never had a problem with "what" he could do, and he was a master of “how” to solve difficult engineering problems, but he had never before been sure of "why" he should do it.
Perhaps, if there was new hope for humanity after this Provisional Government takeover, there might be myriad opportunities for someone like Al Suez, instead of the narrow choices of his former life that had led him to join with Anson Johns on their present venture....
**
In his own bed, Dr. Johns was trying to grow used to uncertainty. He knew better than to try to think things through when he was half drunk, but he couldn’t help himself. There was too much at stake. In order to bring his project to the success that was imminent, he knew he would have to be unscrupulously determined. Nothing, not the new commissioner, not the locals, not even the feelings he had reluctantly began to admit that he had for Jane, must distract from that single-mindedness that could bring success.
Things were not going well with the government man. Whose fault was that? Didn’t he, Johns, do everything possible to make a good impression? It had thrown him, he realized, that they had unexpectedly sent someone so completely unqualified for the job of commissioner. This Torres guy seemed to know nothing about anything, and he seemed to care even less! Johns was afraid, and he knew he was afraid, and he hated being afraid, especially because fate had conspired to make him temporarily subordinate to an uncultured nonentity like “Commissioner” Leo Torres! He couldn’t sleep, so he might as well have another brandy...
**
Jane Early worked to put away the dinner leftovers, to carefully wash dishes, and restore the dining area for its next use. Unlike Dr. Johns and Dr. Suez, Jane Early did not concern herself about what impression she was making. Sleep would have come easily for her, if she had wanted to sleep. But excitement was upon her, and she had no intention letting it be dulled by sleep. When she was sure that everyone was abed, she went out.
**
Leo Torres lay quietly. He had no idea what had been expected of him at dinner, but he knew how to play out a hand of poker, whatever cards were dealt. So he decided to do whatever appealed the most to him. For the time being, what suited him was washing up and lying naked on top of the bed.
He didn't fall asleep at first. It had become difficult for Leo Torres to fall asleep without further drinking, but he was resolved to end his long-running affair with alcohol, and he knew he needed some kind of rest. So he lay back and tried to figure out what he was doing in this odd situation, with these odd people, doing something he wasn't even slightly prepared for, and increasingly aware that his actions meant a lot more to these new people than they did to anybody else, including himself.
Leo was pretty sure that Paul Kerr, the top spokesman in the Provisional Government, had sent him to Oklahoma to get rid of him, or at least to keep him out of the public eye. Leo knew that he had a certain notoriety among the thousands, maybe millions, of exciting young revolutionaries trying to outdo one another in their contributions toward making a new world. He didn't know if they liked him or even approved of him, but they knew his name and they knew he had done something. They knew he was close to Paul Kerr, for example, and had worked with the first kernels of revolutionaries that had eventually, after coalitioning with the environmentalists, moved into leadership of the fight for a new world system.
He also knew that a drunk and wastrel, as he had become, wasn't much of a credit to the new Provisional Government. So getting rid of him probably wasn't such a bad idea, he thought.
But there was a little more. Kerr really was interested in this Dr. Johns that he knew from his youth and in this sanatorium thing out here in the back woods. Maybe he wanted Torres to find some way to keep the Provisional Government from shutting Johns down, or maybe Kerr just wanted someone else to shut Johns down so Kerr wouldn't get the blame, though Leo couldn't figure out why Kerr would care, one way or the other.
Then there was a third possibility. Kerr and Torres went back a long way together, too. As far as he knew, Kerr hadn't shown any particular warmth for Torres, but he certainly found him useful. Maybe he thought that he, Torres, as some kind of figurehead for the revolutionary fight, might be of some use in the future. Maybe the whole trip to Oklahoma was just a ruse to sober him up, keep him out of the way a while, give him a chance to rehabilitate, then come back and do something useful.
At any rate, he knew he was supposed to have the power to shut Johns' operation, whatever it was, down or to keep him running, and he was positive that Johns knew that, too. Johns has to use energy, and the Provisional Government had declared a moratorium, so Johns either had to shut down, quit using energy, or he had to get permission, permission from Leo Torres, to keep on operating. As to why it mattered or even what the hell Johns was doing, Torres had no idea.
He could shut him down today and leave. But that would mean getting back on that damned bicycle. He reluctantly admitted to himself that knowing the shimmering white angel was an end in itself. Torres was no political scientist, he was a warrior plain and simple. Warriors weren't in high demand now that the fighting was supposedly ending, and it was unlikely that Leo Torres was going to become anything else. Torres decided he'd ride this thing out for a while. "The best presentation a High Commissioner, if that's what I am," he thought, "can make right now is none at all. Keep them waiting."
"I'm no statesman, but I know what a man should do when he doesn’t know what to do," he thought to himself.
"Do nothing."
He closed his eyes, still wondering how he had come to this.