My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

26

I’d just gone to bed when the White House called and informed me that I had a call on my laptop.

After a fingerprint and retina scan I was allowed in to see Lee, still up, at his desk in the Oval Office.

“Sorry I’m calling this late,” he said. “Just thought you’d like to know that Al has agreeable to a lesser amount of sea water. It’s not ideal, but he feels that if it would help even help their seas a little, it was worth it . I can demand congress to consider a revision.”

“Well, that’s good news!”

“You might not like the next thing I'm going to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Well, my sort of eyeball here,” he staid, turning the glass container of the regenerated mass of what was still only tissue, toward me, “can only be viable if they finish the procedure up there. On one of the spaceships. There’s nothing we have yet that equates some of the equipment and their equipment won't work in our gravity."

“That's not encouraging.”

“And it would have to be surgically implanted up there as well."

"They never informed us of that, did they?"

"Afraid not. Simpson thinks the oversight was deliberate, to get me off the planet. Hold me for ransom or prevent Earth from an organized retaliation should they attack."

"What do you think?"

"I think they're so technologically advanced that they just didn't consider we wouldn't have the means for the entire process down here. At least that's what I'm going to say publicly. I'm not truly sure of their intent. Naturally, I can’t go. At least not while in office. We don’t have a Vice President. And I doubt if anyone in the line of succession would be willing to babysit the country while I’d be stuck in outer space, not even the presidential candidates, unless we move the election and inauguration up. And, well, I won't do that. Too much chaos and I'd, in effect, be deserting my post."

“Oh son…”

“So I'll go back to the original plan for a revised socket and prosthesis.”

“I’m so sorry, Lee."

"I'll probably get it sometime in February, to give Mel and me a little time together getting used to real life. Should take about three or four weeks for the surgeries, matching up the iris color, and...making sure some of the gadgetry works."

"Gadgetry?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Lee, you do realize that you won't be allowed to take on any undercover work again. You're too well known and..."

"I know, I know...but," he smirked, "might come in handy when I meet certain people requesting Seaview's services."

"Then you've decided to resume command?"

"How can I, in good conscious? Chip's carried the ball all this time and it would be unfair to him.”

“He doesn’t want command, he never has. He’s tried to convince you that, hasn’t he?”

“Just being loyal.”

“What do you want him to do? Take a lie detector test? Or better still, truth serum? Lee, the problem is that your heart’s just to big and you think you’ll hurt his feelings. Trust me, you won’t.”

“I don’t know…and as for the eye, I meant I could see if any of your egghead scientist buddies were toting deadly toxins, or weapons or anything...so that's all I needed to tell you.”

“Thank you for keeping me in the loop. I'm really sorry about the regenerative eye. Now, you look exhausted. Go to bed yourself, and that’s an order. You may be president, but you’re still my son. I think I still have a little clout.”

Lee flashed me that wonderful exceptional smile of his but then frowned.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” he asked.

“Banged it between the door and the door frame earlier today. Wasn’t paying attention…it’ll be fine…just a little sore.”

“Please…have the Med Bay check it out.”

“All right, all right. Between you and Emmie, I don’t have much choice do I?”

“None. Do it tonight. "

"All right, all right."

"Good. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Lee,” I said and the screen went blank.

And I should allow my mind to do the same, but I’m too upset to fall asleep easily. And my hand does hurt. I think I’ll call Chip and see where Lee’s had him take the Seaview. Maybe have a heart to heart. All this time he’s been in total support of Lee’s return, but perhaps he’s just being loyal, as Lee says. But I know one way to find out the truth. Might not be ethical, but I’m sure Doc will be able to inject Chip with some truth serum using one of those newfangled air powered syringes.  Do I dare, though? Why not just trust Chip to tell me the truth?

Lord, I’m never going to be able to get some sleep with thinking about it.