Huma had nearly forgot where Homer was, so strong was Huma's rage leaving the Botanical Garden. Huma's augment had overheated, to the point that trying to access memories was now provoking a mild yet highly uncomfortable tingling sensation. Huma was resolute that memories did exist disproving Cassidy Jones' utterly repugnant and despicable insinuations. But for now Huma was going to have to cast that issue aside. No, Huma would be better off never having to think about it ever again. That was a much better idea.
Homer was sitting alone at the bar, staring into a mug with a sense of disgust. There weren't that many people around. The bartender was speaking on the phone, a crude ancient device attached to the wall, apparently oblivious to the fact that one minority had joined another one at the front. Huma just pointed arbitrarily to a tap for something to drink, waiting for an appropriate moment to try and grab Homer's attention.
"Hey," Huma said, squeezing Homer's arm. "Tough day?"
"You could say that," replied Homer flatly, taking another sip. "I was thinking of trying the whiskey. Apparently there's a place that makes it in Iowa now."
"That's great," said Huma diplomatically. "I'll buy it for you. But first we should-"
"Discuss business," said Homer darkly. "I know."
Huma tried waving a hand in front of Homer's eyes. There was no reaction. Huma was starting to get concerned. Homer had never seen Homer like this before, although they weren't exactly on the greatest of social terms with one another.
"I can see your hand," said Homer. "I'm just really sad is all."
"Well I'm not in the greatest mood either," said Huma.
"Went to see the Oracle did you?" Homer replied dryly.
"Don't call that person that," snapped Huma. "I had a hunch the Oracle was a fraud and I was right. We should drone that person. Wouldn't be missed."
"The plants might miss that person," said Homer.
"Ha!" said Huma. "Nothing more than vegetable shields. I bet that person doesn't even care about them."
"I'd take that bet," said Homer.
They sat in silence for a moment, quietly nursing their drinks. Eventually the time came for a second round and they both got whiskey. Huma paid. First a shot, then another one just for sipping. The bartender took the hint and left the bottle behind. Plains Lion Whiskey, with a drawing of a plains lion on the front, stalking a deer. It was cute.
"I always knew about it you know."
"Knew about what?" asked Huma. "That some charlatan in the middle of nowhere is the focal point of a terrorist movement?"
"Not that part, although maybe I should have," said Homer. "About your past I mean. The story you told never added up. I'm sure other people figured it out too. They just weren't important enough for you to notice."
Huma stared at Homer wordlessly. Huma had seen Homer be mean before. Every other interaction they had ended up being a fight of one sort or another. But there was no malice in the way Homer was speaking now. Homer was also doing Huma the courtesy of discussing the matter in as vague and plausibly deniably a way as possible, such that Huma was reluctant to attack Homer on the matter as it would seem to validate the point.
"You want to know why I didn't?" said Homer rhetorically, not expecting an answer. "It's because it's a good story. People liked it. Just the symbolism of it. A century-long conflict finally coming to an end, and there you are, with your metaphor for the inevitability of the victory of light over shadow. Of the absurdity of fights between human beings, both of whom had faced so much needless misery over the years. Reconciliation, forgiveness, all tied up in the neat little package that was Huma Reid...it made your career. You're the last national journalist not because you're any good at journalism, but because you make people want to believe."
"Well," said Huma, smiling in spite of herself. "I did have that one crime beat. The Five. Those serial killers out in Maryland. Remember that?"
"Vaguely," said Homer. "I thought it was The Three though? The main thing I remember is that it was a team."
"Yeah," said Huma. "They stole that from me. Nobody thought there were any serial killers at all until I showed up. They were killing wealthy, powerful people in ways that made it look like an accident. But always in Maryland. And never famous people. Always totally below the radar. I didn't think those people the feds picked up did it. Three wasn't enough. I never even got a good look at the one who took a shot at the president."
"Right," said Homer. "That was right around when the Great Blackout got started. I think you've got a better niche now. We need inspirational stories, not stories about how evil wins."
Laced as Homer's words were with backhanded compliment, this was the closest Huma had ever gotten to sincere praise from that person. Even better, Homer had showed actual understanding of Huma's mission in life. With all the trolls Huma had to deal with on a regular basis, that support was tremendously reassuring.
"Speaking of which," said Huma, "I finished my report today. "But there's no Internet around here. So I can't upload it."
"Why are you even here anyway?" asked Homer, looking at Huma for the first time that night. "You have your own car. You could have just gone home."
"Joel said that you wanted to see me," said Huma. "And also that Cassidy wanted to talk to me. Joel had your car, with your permission I was told."
Homer commenced an eye roll, and started to look around the bar. Huma did too, and realized that it was gradually getting more crowded and louder. They were making decent progress on the bottle, but would probably have to leave soon.
"I'm probably going to regret asking this," said Homer. "But why exactly are you sleeping with Joel? The person who lies about everything?"
"Oh that's just an affectation," said Huma. "For the sake of cuteness."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to quit while I'm ahead," said Homer, getting up. "Although I am glad to have access to a car. I'd like to look at your black box footage, and also your GPS."
"What?" said Huma, with a vaguely flirtatious smile. "Don't trust me?"
"Not particularly," said Homer. "Although that's neither here nor there right now. I don't think we're done in Iowa quite yet. But don't worry. I'll get you your Internet."
"I don't know," said Huma skeptically. "We're not going to find Jerry Shankar, not now that he's hiding. Cassidy might be around but won't tell us anything."
"I'll admit that the situation's not ideal for sleuthing," said Homer. "But we're better off spending time here than back home. The East Coast's a dead zone right now. We'll just be bored out of our minds worrying about Shankar's next move."