Page 11 of The Presidents Shadow

JESSICA, MARGO, MADDY, and I are seated in front of our Communication Vector, a massive screen dedicated solely to watching events outside the United States.

Today we are watching the Oberon Awards for Literacy and Peace.

The ceremony takes place in Copenhagen, Denmark.

I was on the voting committee. Actually, I was chairperson of the committee, but I’ve been sworn not to blab.

It’s hard not to spoil the winner for the others, but we’ve had so little clean, good fun recently that I’m sitting on it—not that everyone appreciates that.

“In five minutes we’re going to know who the winner is anyway,” Margo says. “So why don’t you just tell us now?”

I shake my head no and stay focused on the lavish ceremony on the screen.

The only thing I say is, “Maddy, you can stop trying to intercept my brain patterns. I’ve enforced a mental barrier that prohibits you from entering.

Maybe with another year of training you’ll be able to connect to me. But you’ve got a long way to go.”

Then Jessica says, “Everybody quiet down. The guy who runs Denmark…”

“Sometimes called ‘the king,’” Margo says with a wry smile.

“Is about to announce the winner,” Jessica goes on, ignoring the interruption.

The translation at the bottom of the screen tells us what the king is saying:

This citation is especially meaningful in these times of world turmoil. Therefore, it gives me great pleasure…

Then suddenly everything changes. The picture on the Communication Vector starts to shake. I can barely make out people in the audience running, but I can clearly hear their screams and cries. Dignitaries and celebrities are rushing to leave the scene.

It seems like the earth under Copenhagen is shaking.

Is this Copenhagen’s version of the catastrophe that destroyed Kyoto?

Then I watch as the king himself falls to the ground.

Jessica and Margo gasp. “It could be an assassination attempt,” I tell them, keeping my voice calm.

Then a Danish word appears over the images of chaos:

NYHEDSOPDATERING

Margo says, “What the hell does that mean?” And almost as if the screen heard her and decided to help, the English translation of the word pops up:

NEWS UPDATE

I stand in a kind of suspended panic and watch.

Margo, Maddy, and Jessica move to the edge of their seats.

We are not merely wide-eyed and overcome with fear.

We are terrified. We are a quartet of people who are used to taking action, being in control.

Our bodies are practically humming with the need to do something, but what?

The voice of a Danish news announcer comes on. It is shaky, loud.

An English translation begins scrolling across the screen.

The news is horrifying. Far worse than an assassination attempt… or anything else I could imagine.