Barack Worthington enjoyed going to the Trump Tower Grill. The Rainbow Shirts had taken control of Trump Tower quite some time ago, making it their headquarters. Many believed that the name ought to have been changed, that it was wrong for them to allow this monument to one of history's greatest monsters to remain there in permanence. But Barack didn't see it that way. He thought of the small, impotent little fascists in the country, and knew it burned them up to know that all these racial minorities, and all these women, were cavorting about Trump Tower like they owned it. Which they did.
From the tower's skyline it was possible to see what little remained of the urban landscape of New York City- emptier than it had been even twenty years ago, but still bustling. That was one of the more tangible strong points of eating there. But metaphorical and practical feelings mixed when it came to the Trump Tower Grill's cuisine, which was highly eco-fashionable. Gone was the cultural appropriation of those infamous taco bowls. Instead, the Trump Tower Grill served the food of the New World- insects, a meat source of ample abundance in the current period of constant climatic unrest.
Barack was nominally a vegetarian when it came to eating food that was formerly living animals, but insects were so far removed from proper thinking creatures that they did not particularly count. The real Donald Trump would have been utterly furious that nothing recognizable as American food was served here. If Trump Tower was a monument to Trump, everyone inside was pissing all over it, in every fashion imaginable.
Barack was waiting to meet Esther Okerye. Though Esther had been with Barack and Homer since the very earliest days of the Rainbow Shirts, Esther disdained eating with them socially or really engaging in any other kinds of social activities. The Trump Tower Grill was the only place Esther ever saw fit to meet them on account of the fact that Esther already had to go to the Trump Tower Grill for work reasons. It was also thanks to Esther's innovations that the Trump Tower Grill's menu was changed, championing the use of insects as an efficient source of protein in the wake of the Great Blackout. Esther had never expressed an opinion as to the name of the building itself. At times Barack wondered if Esther even remembered who Donald Trump was. But then, what were the names of old, dead white men to Esther Okerye, who had always obsessed over immediate practicality to the detriment of all other factors?
Barack couldn't much blame Esther for that. Esther had the thankless career trajectory of working as a private military contractor with no actual military experience, moving upwards in reputation in spite of the racist sexist handicaps enforced by society since Esther had the misfortune of being born black. Barack did not know how Esther had managed such a feat. Esther didn't like talking in general, but even when Esther was willing to talk, Esther drew a hard line when it came to discussing anything in the distant past. Esther was stout, or at least as stout as a tall woman could reasonably be, and very dark-skinned. While proper fitness training and cybernetic enhancement had made Esther less bulky compared to when they first met, Esther was still every bit as mean when they first met and Esther wasn't afraid to fight dirty if that's what it took to win.
Finally, Barack stopped meandering in self-absorbed nostalgia. Barack spied Esther, impatiently tapping on the dining table. Esther was sitting in the booth, with a clear view of the door. So Esther had seen him this entire time, but had been unwilling to make any loud noises, so as to avoid making a spectacle. That was very much like Esther, always thinking about the best ground to stake, preventively as well as worst-case-scenario, in the case a random fight broke out.
"Took you long enough," Esther said dryly, knuckles cracking just out of force of habit. "I already ordered."
"I'm five minutes early," said Barack, sitting down and not bothering to double check the time.
"Yeah, I know," Esther said. "Time goes slow when I need to think of a way to ask for a favor."
Barack hurriedly made an order. No alcohol today, since Esther didn't care for it.
"This is a bit of a surprise," said Barack. "Usually I have to ask for the favors. In fact, I thought that was why we were here. Were you expecting me to cut the check?"
"No," said Esther. "I'm paying. I would have gone somewhere else, but I don't know what other restaurants you like."
Barack gave a soft laugh. A lot of people found Esther's personality to be off-putting, but Barack rather liked the sincere gruffness in Esther's disposition. No, they weren't friends, and had no real mutual interests save for the Social Justice Army, but then that was their life's work, so it was enough.
"Did I say something funny?" Esther said, an ugly frown spreading. "Because I'm really not in the mood."
"Sorry," said Barack, straightening up immediately. "So what do you need help with?"
"I need time off."
Barack gave a thoughtful look. On its face the request was completely reasonable. It's just, Barack couldn't remember the last time Esther had asked for time off, or if Esther had ever done such a thing. Most of the time Barack forgot that Esther was technically in a subordinate position, which made the request feel even more absurd. Sure, Barack would like to have Esther available on a moment's notice, but if Barack had tried to contact Esther only to no response, Barack's first response would have been to assume that Esther was just busy with something else.
"Go ahead," Barack said.
Esther eyed Barack suspiciously. Their food had just arrived, and Esther whispered something to the waiter while chewing very slowly, still looking at Barack. They undertook this silence for awhile. Barack only belatedly realized the purpose of this clandestine chat when the television behind Barack abruptly turned on- not so loud as to disturb the other patrons, but loud enough. Reflexively, Barack turned back to look. As expected, the story was about Chicago.
"I thought, maybe you heard about this?" Esther said, chin resting on hands. "Chicago being attacked? Entire buildings just collapsing to the ground level? Hundreds dead? Police disbanded? Mayor flees town in terror? Special elections to be held while a bunch of Iowans, of all people, hold the city under martial law? Any of this sound like a big deal to you?"
Barack chuckled softly again. Once again Esther glared, devouring more food with a mean and not especially hungry look as the second course arrived, but staying silent, waiting for Barack's reply.
"I'm sorry," said Barack, "I can see why this might worry you, but right now I have no plans to send you there, nor do I need you on standby. Homer is already in the city."
"Yeah and Homer's the reason it all went to hell," said Esther, clearly annoyed. "This is exactly the kind of mess you're always asking me to clean up, except this time it's happening somewhere important."
"Didn't you say you wanted a favor?" asked Barack. "I would think my nonchalance would leave you in a better mood."
"Well, maybe I'm just hard to please," Esther said, preparing for the third course. They were quiet for a moment, as Huma Reid came on the livestream. Huma was sympathetic to the mission of the Rainbow Shirts. As a reporter, and nearly the only left with any kind of consistently wide distribution, Huma's air of neutrality was extremely helpful to legitimizing their actions. The first time Barack appeared on Huma's show, Huma had to bully Barack into admitting that the Rainbow Shirts were a death squad. But now? Barack just freely admitted it to everyone, and there were no negative repercussions. If anything they appreciated the bluntness, the honesty, and the dedication to their mission.
"I'll go on that stupid show if you want," said Esther.
At this remark Barack was completely dumbfounded, and just continued eating nervously until the arrival of dessert. For the first time Barack was actually even paying attention to the menu, just as a distraction. Beetle berry crunch ice cream. Amazing to think that a generation ago children could buy this with pocket money. Well, absent the beetle anyway.
"Did you hear me?" said Esther. "I said I'd-"
"Yes, yes, I heard," said Barack. "It's just, I thought you hated going on that show."
"I do," said Esther. "But it doesn't feel right, just abandoning you all at a time like this. I want to make it up to you."
Barack gave off a warm smile, even turning on the augment on to slow it down, and let the moment last longer. This was among the nicest things Esther had ever said. It was always hard to get a grasp on what Esther was thinking, yet in moments like this, Esther really felt like a member of the team. Barack made sure to turn the augment off, before trying to speak.
"That's very sweet of you," Barack said, biting into the titular beetle embedded in the ice cream, like an ancient creature frozen in amber. Well, technically they were eating frozen yogurt.
"Sweet nothing," Esther said. "We got a job to do, we just have different ideas of how to do it. And you know how I feel about that."
Barack nodded sagely and sadly. This was a topic Barack knew all too well. Luckily, Esther was still in a conciliatory temperament and dropped the subject. Barack decided to try his luck.
"So," Barack said. "I've been practicing with old-fashioned weapons like you told me about."
"Huh?" asked Esther, quizzically. All the courses were there, so Esther took a bite from each, sampling them erratically.
"You know, the guns and the knives."
"No," said Esther, irritated, mouth full, forcing a swallow. "The purpose of that conversation wasn't to make you practice with those weapons personally. We need to start training everyone with them."
"Esther," said Barack softly, also eating. "I know how you feel about this but it's just not practical. There's too many people to train."
"We have a few thousand Barack," said Esther. "The only difference between old-fashioned guns and the newer ones is that they work better. Well I guess technically you have to balance them a little differently but it's trivial."
"Anyone can use them though," said Barack. "There's no DNA locks-"
"Those DNA locks are idiotic," said Esther. "Anyone who knows how to pick a lock can get past them."
"But they don't have electricity outside the cities. And even if they did, they wouldn't have the proper adapters."
"It's an extreme edge scenario that is never ever going to matter Barack," said Esther. "I have seen, with my own eyes, our people losing their tactical position or even their lives because these electric weapons don't work right."
"Well I'm not a dictator," said Barack. "No one wants to go technologically backwards except for you Esther. Traditional firearms are loud and scary."
"They should be loud and scary!" said Esther, struggling to avoid being too loud. "We're at war."
But for all Esther's efforts to avoid making a scene, both Barack and Esther suddenly felt as if they were drawing unwanted attention. Consequently, they passed the rest of the midday meal in relative silence, the only remaining conversation involving going over technical details about Esther's time off. As it turned out Esther was only going so far as St. Louis, and right away to boot- so it would be possible to contact her, if necessary. Barack did anticipate needing Esther eventually, after all, but provided that Barack knew when and where Esther would be busy, it was easy enough to organize the schedule around a brief vacation.