next week absenteeism will hit fifteen percent, then twenty, then who knows.” Eric snorted. “There’s no reason for it other than people being scared when they don’t need to be.” Eric paused and looked her up and down.
Olivia said nothing.
“The directive I emailed this morning,” Eric asked, “what do you think it tells you to do?”
“There’s some kind of work queue set up—”
Eric interrupted, “And you have access to the queue. Did you check that your permissions allowed you in?”
“I can access the queue from my computer,” Olivia confirmed.
“Good.”
She continued, “I read the examples in the directive. I read through some of the cases in the queue.”
“And?” Eric asked.
“Some other group, maybe some group at the NSA, is actively censoring the Internet. Anything negative about the pandemic—”
Eric held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t use that word.”
Olivia huffed.
“You read the directive.”
“Dammit, Eric.” She pounded a fist on his desk.
“I know you’re frustrated.”
“Frustrated?” Olivia yelled. “It’s not just that I can’t use the word pandemic even though you and I—and everybody on the planet—can see that’s what’s going to happen.”
“No, I can’t,” said Eric. “That’s part of the problem. Smart people like you believe things are worse than they are. People are sick, lots of them, mostly in Africa. Elsewhere, we’ve got a few hundred cases getting hyped all to hell.”
She ignored Eric and proceeded. “I have to work through a queue of censored web pages, figure out who posted them, and pass those names back through the application to who knows what group. Eric, it frightens me that this application even exists. When the hell was it written?”
Eric leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. When he looked back down at Olivia, he’d passed his point of frustration and was now angry. “Don’t be stupid. Again, I say that as your friend. Don’t act like every movie you ever saw about big government conspiracies is true. You get paid to look at data and draw conclusions, and from those conclusions, the government takes action. Well guess what? I know you won’t believe it, but there are people in the government’s employ who are smarter than you, have more experience than you, have more access to classified material than you—”
“Everybody right now,” Olivia sniped.
Eric ignored the dig. “These people think of things that might happen, and then more people just like them decide what contingency plans can be made, and then even smarter people decide which of those contingency plans should be executed. These people are tasked with protecting Americans from tomorrow’s threats. You understand?”
Olivia understood, but didn’t grace Eric with a response.
“Whether you agree or not, America is under attack. You think it’s from terrorists with Ebola, and I agree that you’re right. Those shit stains are screwing the whole world, but it’s not as bad as you make it seem. It’s not as bad as anybody makes it seem. The real problem, and the reason they call these fuckers terrorists, is because right now America is under attack by fear.”
Olivia replied with a sneered, “Yes, FDR.”
He shook his head at that remark. “It doesn’t matter whether that fear is something planned by the jihadists, whether it’s a part of some bigger plot to destabilize Western economies, or whether it’s just the natural fear people feel over what looks like a disease crisis in the making. All of it has the same effect. People don’t come to work. Commerce grinds to a halt. A recession turns into a depression, and who can guess whether America or any Western country survives?”
Eric took a deep, calming breath, his anger having run its course. “The application was written to combat this kind of problem. The news channels, newspapers, websites, blogs, Facebook posts, and tweets are all feeding and amplifying the fear in a
Olivia said nothing.
“The directive I emailed this morning,” Eric asked, “what do you think it tells you to do?”
“There’s some kind of work queue set up—”
Eric interrupted, “And you have access to the queue. Did you check that your permissions allowed you in?”
“I can access the queue from my computer,” Olivia confirmed.
“Good.”
She continued, “I read the examples in the directive. I read through some of the cases in the queue.”
“And?” Eric asked.
“Some other group, maybe some group at the NSA, is actively censoring the Internet. Anything negative about the pandemic—”
Eric held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t use that word.”
Olivia huffed.
“You read the directive.”
“Dammit, Eric.” She pounded a fist on his desk.
“I know you’re frustrated.”
“Frustrated?” Olivia yelled. “It’s not just that I can’t use the word pandemic even though you and I—and everybody on the planet—can see that’s what’s going to happen.”
“No, I can’t,” said Eric. “That’s part of the problem. Smart people like you believe things are worse than they are. People are sick, lots of them, mostly in Africa. Elsewhere, we’ve got a few hundred cases getting hyped all to hell.”
She ignored Eric and proceeded. “I have to work through a queue of censored web pages, figure out who posted them, and pass those names back through the application to who knows what group. Eric, it frightens me that this application even exists. When the hell was it written?”
Eric leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. When he looked back down at Olivia, he’d passed his point of frustration and was now angry. “Don’t be stupid. Again, I say that as your friend. Don’t act like every movie you ever saw about big government conspiracies is true. You get paid to look at data and draw conclusions, and from those conclusions, the government takes action. Well guess what? I know you won’t believe it, but there are people in the government’s employ who are smarter than you, have more experience than you, have more access to classified material than you—”
“Everybody right now,” Olivia sniped.
Eric ignored the dig. “These people think of things that might happen, and then more people just like them decide what contingency plans can be made, and then even smarter people decide which of those contingency plans should be executed. These people are tasked with protecting Americans from tomorrow’s threats. You understand?”
Olivia understood, but didn’t grace Eric with a response.
“Whether you agree or not, America is under attack. You think it’s from terrorists with Ebola, and I agree that you’re right. Those shit stains are screwing the whole world, but it’s not as bad as you make it seem. It’s not as bad as anybody makes it seem. The real problem, and the reason they call these fuckers terrorists, is because right now America is under attack by fear.”
Olivia replied with a sneered, “Yes, FDR.”
He shook his head at that remark. “It doesn’t matter whether that fear is something planned by the jihadists, whether it’s a part of some bigger plot to destabilize Western economies, or whether it’s just the natural fear people feel over what looks like a disease crisis in the making. All of it has the same effect. People don’t come to work. Commerce grinds to a halt. A recession turns into a depression, and who can guess whether America or any Western country survives?”
Eric took a deep, calming breath, his anger having run its course. “The application was written to combat this kind of problem. The news channels, newspapers, websites, blogs, Facebook posts, and tweets are all feeding and amplifying the fear in a
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