Chapter 12: Press Room

I THOUGHT THE MORNING WENT WELL ENOUGH. No one got anything they wanted. Like a stubborn two-year-old, Jack rejected every command from the colonel with a petulant, “No!” When I saw the sense in a directive, I’d take Jack aside and ask him kindly to do whatever it was and Jack would do it. The colonel’s latest demand was for Jack to have another Bloody Mary. Jack meekly complied.

At only a few minutes before we had to leave for the motorcade, the MIB finally showed up. There was a head-to-head standoff between Ms. Smith MIB and the colonel that promised escalation to command levels of the Department of Defense and the Department of Homeland Security. Apparently, neither had actually been given charge.

Hmm. Maybe there’s a Department of Homeland Entertainment, which would seem to be a good choice to be in charge of this farce. Perhaps the Keystone Agency could send a few of their best police recruits to take charge. At one time, the Department of Health and Human Services would have been the right choice, but ‘Human Services’ had been eliminated in a budget cut over twenty years ago and ‘Health’ was generally considered a privilege and not a right, so most of the department had been shuffled out to bloat other departments with redundant staff.

However it evolved, Jack, Evelyn, and Lily were escorted to a car large enough for Elizabeth and me to join them. Jack looked a little ridiculous in a suit with legs and sleeves that were too short for his lanky frame. I was relegated to a casual sport coat and slacks. I only had one tie with me and spent ten minutes trying to get it tied on Jack. Elizabeth finally displaced me and took care of it in thirty seconds. The doctors had been assigned to a second limo and seemed happy that they were finally being treated with some respect.

At the White House, when we finally got there, things went downhill at an ever-accelerating pace. There wasn’t really time for breakfast. Jack was given a cup of coffee and an aide of some sort smeared makeup on his face to give it some color other than red. They made a valiant effort to comb his hair and beard, both of which resisted the effort. The President’s Press Secretary and I, trailed behind as President Muffley and Jack preceded us the one hundred seventy steps to the Press Room. Just before they got there, the shit hit the fan.

“No!” Jack shouted at the president. “I’m not going to have sex with your daughter! Nor with anyone else other than my wife.”

“Now see here, Mr. Adams. I am the President of the United States. People do what I tell them to!”

“You can’t tell me to cheat on my wife. I won’t do it!”

Over the past twenty-five years, the office of President of the United States had become so ridiculed and impoverished that no one really did what POTUS said to. It had evolved into a largely ceremonial role, not terribly different than being Queen of England, though with a shorter term. At the rate she was going, she’d outlive her grandson as well as she had her son. But she didn’t run Parliament, nor did the President run Congress. Most of the things the President had signed over the past ten years were proclamations the equivalent of declaring “National Pug and Schnauzer Day” or congratulating a new centenarian on his or her birthday.

“This is a great day for America,” the President began his prepared speech. He hesitated and stumbled trying to decide how to proceed with his speech now that Jack had ruined his planned announcement. Of course, it had already run in the Orlando News and was released over the AP hours ago.

“A really great day. One of the best days ever. It has been confirmed that the man over there in the ... uh ... red hair, has viable sperm in his system. The little baby next to him is his offspring as of three days ago. We’ve got a waiting list of women wanting to get pregnant. Jack Adams is going to be a very busy man. Very busy. The top of the list is my daughter and I’m sure when Jack meets her, he’ll be far more willing to spread his wild oats than he’s been so far. And those oats will be wild. Scattered everywhere. We’re going to turn Jack’s oat seeds over to the National Repopulation Project and the National Insemination Project who will function in joint custody for both scientific investigation and the effective utilization of those seeds.”

Everyone looked around, trying to make sense of what the president was saying and as one, decided to make something up.

The president didn’t let Jack speak, nor did he say anything to him as he left for the oval office muttering about being too busy to waste time here. The party from Orlando was left standing outside the Press Room wondering what they should do next. Apparently, now that two agencies were in charge, no one was in charge.

The MIB showed up eventually.

“We might as well take you back to Blair House,” Mr. Smith MIB said. “Unless you want to go upstairs to the bridal suite where, I’m told, Scarlett Muffley is still tied naked to a bed.” Jack shuddered. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Oh, the DoD is arguing with Homeland Security and the Secret Service over jurisdiction,” Ms. Smith MIB said. “We believe most of the arguments will be several degrees over your heads. We’ll hang out so you have some protection, but that means the doctors can all go straight back to Orlando.”

“We have a concept for reactivating sperm. We’d like to test it out to make sure it doesn’t have any negative effects,” Dr. Simpson said. “Ramsey, can you donate a sample and get Jack to donate a sample? We can keep it fresh long enough to get back to Orlando.”

“What’s the concept?” I asked, figuring I’d need another story for tomorrow.

“Well, we ... I should say I believe what the latent sperm need is to have the epididymis shocked back into activity. If I can get the right combination of NH3 and other organic compounds, we can recreate the activity of the epididymis either naturally or in a sealed environment,” Simpson said.

“What’s NH3?” I asked. I never did like chemistry.

“Uh ... It is a common nitrogenous waste, particularly among aquatic organisms, and it contributes significantly to the nutritional needs of terrestrial organisms by serving as a precursor to food and fertilizers.”

“It’s ammonia,” Dr. Reynolds said. “How you can ever expect to reactivate sperm by injecting them with ammonia is beyond comprehension.”

“Well, I would temper the negative affects by combining it with a soy-based protein.”

“You’re going to mix ammonia and tofu. How did you come up with this ridiculous concept?”

“I think it will work. It was actually based on a suggestion the president made. He’s a smart man. Very smart.”

We rode back to Blair House together but the doctors managed to pack their bags, get their samples, and get out of town before the next shitstorm hit.

Elizabeth dragged me willingly into the bedroom as soon as the doctors disappeared. The MIB were directing housekeeping regarding cleaning the bedrooms and planned to move into two of them. The Smiths of Orlando fell into bed for a noisy round of lovemaking that I credited to the excitement of having been in the White House.