Huma Reid returned to Des Moines with a clear conscience. The truth was, Huma never had much confidence in this fact-finding expedition. The Rainbow Shirts had gone to great efforts to discourage Huma in this regard, all of the leaders far more interested in fighting whatever enemies Jill Smith led them to rather than questioning why jill Smith leading them to any at all. Huma only had one unexpected ally in this quest to bring the entire foul business to light, and an unexpected one at that- Joel Rotierre, a mere secretary in the Rainbow Shirts and not one with much seniority at that.
Huma's first encounter with Joel Rotierre had been for the most part unremarkable. Huma bullied Joel the sae as the usual intermediaries. What made Joel more interesting to Huma, upon further reflection, was the sheer lack of resistance. Not to mention that Joel also very pointlessly gave Huma false information. Now, why would a person in a position so apparently weak bother trying to hide anything- unless in normal circumstances, hiding more useful information was the more critical aspect of the job?
Poring through whatever records about Joel Rotierre were available, Huma was increasingly fascinated by Joel's shifty, ever-changing backstory. Joel was the chief assistant to the mayor in the city from which the Great Blackout was the locus point. This very same mayor's office was also rumored to be the source behind some of the earliest so-called accidental deaths of high society, as it benefited directly from some of the killings. Joel Rotierre disappears for awhile after the Great Blackout. Joel Rotierre occasionally appears in local newspapers of obscure locations, putting a background in environmental engineering to good use, repairing the damage done to smart sanitation systems due to the Great Blackout. Joel Rotierre finally reappears in Iowa as a major sanitation engineer and overhauls the state's entire system before becoming Barack Worthington's personal assistant, based on no apparent relevant qualifications.
In subsequent conversations with Joel, Huma let slip some awareness of these suspicious externalities, while strongly implying that other major leaders of the Rainbow Shirts did not know nor did they need to. Joel responded to these veiled threats with clear visible terror, and over time became willing to do all sorts of favors for Huma for no reason, at times without even being asked. It was from Joel that Huma learned about Gerald Littlefoot. Coming all the way out to Iowa just to meet Gerald Littlefoot on a hunch, though, that was all Huma. And of course, Huma dragged Joel out there too, mainly because the Rainbow Shirts were on relative lockdown and there wasn't much else for Joel to do.
And when Huma got back to the hotel, it was of little surprise that Joel had prepared steaming hot coffee. The poor little person was even waiting outside, nervously shivering and waiting in the faintly cool autumn breeze. Huma made a bright, cheerful gesture while approaching Joel. Whereas Huma used to feel contempt for Joel, lately Huma just felt pity. Joel could be useful, after all, even without knowing it.
"I was wondering," said Huma. "How is it, that all the way out here in Iowa, there's more coffee than there is in New York City?"
"Oh," said Joel, eager to please as always. "Endless caravans, stretching across the desert. The market is cornered by sea, you know, by pirates. Not as many land bandits these days."
"Uh-huh," said Huma, sipping the coffee and trying to avoid an eye roll. Joel really was pathetic. Always willing to say or do anything, for the slightest hope of approval. They walked into the hotel room and sat down in the generally hideous chairs provided. Huma was in no position to complain about the accomodations, given how there were so few options that allowed parking with cars.
"So?" said Joel excitedly, eyes wide open. Huma wondered if Joel had been drinking too much coffee just waiting for Huma to get back. Sure it was late, but they could have easily waited until morning to talk.
"What can I say?" said Huma, shoulders shrugging. "You were right. With my own eyes, and more importantly my dashboard camera, I observed physical proof of Jill Smith assaulting an innocent person right next to Jerry Shankar's headquarters."
"Yes!" Joel cried out, jumping in the air and giving arm pumps. "I knew it was true! Can I see it?"
Huma was so touched by Joel's sense of general exuberance that allowing the privilege nearly seemed contemplatable. But Huma banished the thought. Joel would undoubtedly blab about what happened to the Rainbow Shirts at the first possible opportunity. Huma didn't much like how some people on the Internet, most likely trolls led by Jerry Shankar, accused Huma of being biased simply due to these close relations with the Rainbow Shirts. Giving them an early scoop of the story would only feed into that impression, when they inevitably acted on Huma's intelligence.
"You'll have to watch it online like everyone else," said Huma.
"Aw don't I deserve it?" asked Joel, in a faintly whiny tone. "It's not fair."
"I paid for all the expenses of the trip," said Huma. "And don't be coy with me. I know you wanted an excuse to come back here."
"Not really," said Joel. "I'm sure the sewage system can survive without me."
Huma did an eye roll. All Joel ever did when there was a spare moment was make phone calls and inquiries into the current system status. Huma could remember every hushed word of these extremely boring conversations and could tell that for Joel's constantly unnecessarily apologetic tone that everything was going fine. For that, Huma could hardly fault Joel. Iowans may be subhuman in the grand scheme of things, but even they deserve better than to wallow in their own excrement.
"I'm curious," said Huma. "Any reason you didn't try to get hired on the East Coast as just, you know, a sanitation engineer? Our systems aren't in the best of shape. We could use someone like you."
"Oh I'm afraid not," said Joel. "Sea level rise has made it so that all the East Coast's sanitation systems are intrinsically doomed. Trying to repair them on my part would be a complete waste of time."
Huma sighed, though nodding sagely in agreement. It was only a matter of time before people on the East Coast would flee west. In that way these dispersals of fascists were critical. As a serious journalist Huma couldn't help but sympathize with the Rainbow Shirts' efforts. Yet if the wrong person were to become the beneficiary of this attempt to reunite the formerly united states...well, it was a difficult question to resolve. They needed plans. And that was Huma's job, was to provide proper data for the plans. Just not right this minute. Huma was tired of serious mental effort. Huma's body still had some pep though, thanks to the coffee. Huma stopped for a moment.
"Joel," Huma said calmly yet forcefully. "Why did you make coffee for us when it's almost time to go to sleep?"
"Oh, no reason," Joel said, trying to avoid making eye contact. "It's just, the coffee here is really good and I thought we should enjoy it while we still had the chance."
"Uh-huh," said Huma. "Is that the real reason, or were you hoping that it would put me in the mood for something to maybe want me to get sleepier?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Joel, tugging his collar.
Huma stood up and walked over to Joel with such force and imposition that Joel plopped onto the floor just from shock and surprise at the strength of the aura. This was just one of the many reactions Huma appreciated from Joel. It wasn't easy, lately, in Huma's social environs, to find a person who was so much...shorter than Huma herself.
"I think you do," said Huma, with a deliberately nasty smile, tugging at Joel's collar personally. "And I also think that you need to be punished."