"That person bothers me," said Huma. "I don't think that person knows anything."
"I'm not going to lie," said Barack. "That person's capture has been a disappointment."
The two friends were having drinks, as they often did, at a milk bar overlooking the skyline of New York City. Because of the decreased power usage at night, it was now possible to see stars within that skyline. The effect was marvelous- at the very least, more impressive than the bar's pseudo-retro decor. Once, long ago, it had seemed cute. But at this point Huma and Barack favored the place mostly out of habit. It helped that nobody else they knew liked to come here, so they could have a word in private.
"The part that really bugs me," said Huma, "is that I can't help but see what that person meant. If we hadn't tried to tag-team Jerry Shankar like that, we wouldn't have fallen into the trap."
"We had to give it a try," said Barack, staring straight forward.
"That's just it, though," said Huma. "This was a desperate tactic in a desperate situation. Journalists aren't supposed to work with hired muscle like this."
"Maybe if some journalists had shown more backbone," said Barack with dry hostility, "the world wouldn't be in this mess."
Huma observed that a cold meanness had come over Barack's personality overnight. This was the first time the two had seen each other since the Chicago Massacre and the Swamp Incident had wiped out a full fifth of the personpower of the Social Justice Army. Such a loss just once would have been a devastating blow. But one after another? The institution's ethical fabric was strong enough that no one was so much as willing to obliquely hint at the idea of giving up. Nevertheless, persisting was not easy.
"Why did you get involved in Chicago anyway?" Huma asked.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," said Barack.
"Do you believe that story about the monks?" Huma continued. "I heard that Jerry Shankar gave them swastikas, and tricked the Rainbow Shirts into firing on them. That's how the whole thing got started."
"I consider that particular theory to be very unlikely," said Barack, in a droning tone. "Not to mention completely unprovable."
"But it's a popular rumor," said Huma, sighing. "And can we really blame anybody? Not a single recording of anything that happened that day. It's eerie. All the gadgets, totally zapped while no one was looking. Rumors say the Rainbow Shirts did it themselves, that their body cameras proved that the whole thing was a false flag gone horribly wrong."
"Well, take it from me," said Barack, groaning. "That's not what happened. Chicago was stupid, no doubt about it, but just, like, normal stupid."
"I really wish you'd take this stuff more seriously," said Huma. "I need evidence. Something that I can show to the world to prove that the Rainbow Shirts are the white hats. That Jerry Shankar is the real enemy."
"And I keep telling you," said Barack. "We don't have any footage. I don't know why that is. I wish we did. Maybe then we could figure out what went wrong."
Huma had made a point of plying Barack on this topic in multiple states of mind, be it exhaustion, normal alertness, peppiness, or, in this case, inebriation. Huma was frustrated by the consistency of Barack's story. Huma knew full well that in the world they lived in, where technology made it possible to document everything, there were no unknowns left.
As Barack started to slump over Huma began to feel a new purpose. Of course Huma believed in the significance of every story. But this was an earth-shattering moment, where any new discovery had the potential to change the course of human history. 2052 would be starting in just a few shorts day. Among other momentous events, there was going to be a presidential election. No doubt Jerry Shankar had something planned there.
The more Huma thought about it the more convinced Huma was as to the veracity of this hypothesis. There had to be something of critical importance at Chicago, some vital detail that had been overlooked. That was the evidence necessary to discredit Jerry Shankar once and for all. That would be Huma's mission over the next year, would be to shine this light over Jerry Shankar's fetid existence. For now, though, Huma couldn't help but feel like a nap. And possibly some coloring books.