Head Of State, Page 3

staring at the 3"-tall live Jeffrie that holographically hovers above his iPhone. "I need you."

  Jeffrie's heart skips. She knows exactly who this is. "Who is this?"

  "It's Ben."

  "Why are you calling me?"

  Ben hates having to say it again. "I need you."

  Jeffrie zaps off holographic Britney. Ben has her undivided attention. She waits.

  Ben waits, too. Then, "That's all I can say right now."

  "I'm hanging up."

  "It's an emergency."

  Jeffrie is unmoved. "What tin pot dictator are you trying to put in power now?"

  "I left Congo the day after you did."

  Jeffrie looks surprised. And slightly hopeful. "You did?"

  "I could've told you if you'd taken my calls." Jeffrie is silent. Ben continues, "I also could have said you were right." More silence. "And I'm sorry."

  Jeffrie melts a little. She checks the caller ID on her remote: UNAVAILABLE. "Where are you calling from?"

  "D.C. I need you."

  "I'm three hours away."

  "There's a Sikorsky helicopter on your lawn."

  "Oh, that kind of need." She hangs up, stands, takes a parting swig of Knockout Punch and walks out.

  CryErection is a nondescript facility in a warehouse district. Jeffrie and Ben stand one of their slightly sloppy research labs. Computers, tanks and compressors litter the tables. The logo from Britney's instructional video hangs on the wall.

  Jeffrie stares at Ben in disbelief. "You're doing the same old shit again."

  "Replacing my dead candidate's head?"

  "Being politically expedient. How about doing what's right?"

  "How do you know I'm not?"

  Jeffrie points to a head staring, wide-eyed, out of a freezer window. "That ain't right."

  Ben looks over. "It's from Halloween. It's a joke. C'mon, don't you think I'd rather be doing this the normal way?"

  "God, I hope," Jeffrie says. "Still, you're willing to Frankenstein together a candidate."

  Ben shrugs. "Moderation in pursuit of justice is no virtue."

  "Is that Goldwater? Of course it is. You even quoted him as we were breaking up. 'A government that's big enough to give you everything you want is big enough to take away everything you have.'"

  "I was making the case for smaller relationships."

  "Yeah, that was hot."

  "Jeff, we can take back this country! How could you blow that off to push underarm deodorant?"

  Jeffrie bristles. "It's a Bacterial Breakdown System and the job lets me focus on other priorities."

  "We'll work it out, maybe you'll get Saturdays off."

  Jeffrie feigns excitement. "Shut. Up."

  Ben senses an opening. "We do this and I could totally make a difference. I could be advisor to the President of the United States. I don't get another chance after this."

  "I just heard the word "I" about ten times."

  "I started by saying 'we'. Didn't I?" Ben smiles. Yes, he's working her, but he's also sincere and passionate and there's a spark between them. "This is what I love."

  Jeffrie quotes, "'Sex and politics are a lot alike. You don't have to be good at them to enjoy them.'"

  "Are you saying I'm no good at sex?"

  "Your candidate is dead."

  "Is that a euphemism?"

  Jeffrie takes a second to think. "Okay, you want to know what people will say? It goes against God."

  "We can't know what God wants, only what God makes possible."

  Jeffrie considers… "Just because we can do something doesn't mean we should."

  "This technology exists. We can use it for good or watch some other country use it and maybe do us harm."

  "With what? A zombie army? The opposition will have a field day."

  "The Democrats started this, legalizing stem cell research. And some Republicans voted to fund it."

  Jeffrie shifts her weight, about to leave. "You've got it down, you don't need me."

  "You're the only one I trust. You think five moves ahead and when we work together, I'm at my best. Please. If I don't fix this, I'm not just out of a job, I'm out of politics."

  Jeffrie refuses to be guilted. "Well, we can't always control our lives. Fuck. I think I just quoted Britney Spears." She starts to walk out.

  Ben lays it bare. "Haven't you ever wanted some big, life-defining thing, and you're slammed up against the reality that it might not come together?"

  Jeffrie coughs a laugh. "Yeah."

  "And?"

  "You start considering some really out-there options." Jeffrie is torn. Ben can tell.

  The door opens and a guy in a lab coat, Aaron Hirsh, pops his head in. He's surprised, "Jeffrie! Is your appointment today?"

  Jeffrie tries to be matter-of-fact, gestures to Ben. "I'm here with him."

  Aaron looks at him, confused. "You're doing some freezing?"

  Jeffrie quickly corrects, "Thawing!" She avoids eye contact with both men. "It's research. We're here to observe."

  Aaron says, "Observe thawing? I thought my job was boring." He looks to Ben. "They're ready for you next door." Aaron ducks out, the door closes.

  Jeffrie feels the heat of Ben's stare. She breaks, talking fast: "I'm trying to have a baby with a sperm donor."

  Ben definitely wasn't expecting that. "Really? Wow. Seriously?" He tries to reconcile it. "You always said a child should have a mother and a father."

  "Ideally. But life isn't always ideal, y'know?"

  "I do." He grins. "What were you saying about me using medical science to achieve my dream?"

  Jeffrie looks at him, then, "Just so we're clear, I'll be doing this for the money."

  Ben holds the door open. "You're the spin-meister." Jeffrie leaves. Ben follows her out.

  Jeffrie automatically goes right, toward the client area, then remembers: "Where are the heads?"

  Ben points. "Left."

  Jeffrie turns, Ben is right behind. The door closes.

  Nitrogen-cooled tanks line the walls of the cryogenic storage room. It'd be awesome if this were some futuristic depository of heads suspended in individual glass boxes, but it just looks like the appliance section at Sears where they sell freezer chests. Richard chats with Aaron. The door opens and Jeffrie walks in, several paces ahead of Ben.

  Ben makes introductions. "Richard, you remember Jeffrie? She's our new Communications Director."

  Richard shakes her hand, "Welcome aboard. I've arranged for us to have any head in here."

  Jeffrie says for Ben's benefit, "Pinch me."

  Aaron gestures along the wall. "Anything in this row. The freezers over there contain sperm."

  The guys walk off. Jeffrie steals a glance at the sperm section.

  Aaron touches the screen on a nearby freezer, bringing it out of 'sleep' mode. He taps the screen, pulling up a readout of the contents and a profile pic.

  Jeffrie does the same on a sperm freezer. A photo appears: the donor looks Phil Spector-crazy. She quickly rejoins the guys.

  Richard pats the lid of a freezer. "This one looks nice."

  Jeffrie chafes. "We're not picking a Christmas tree."

  "What about the brains?" Ben asks. "Do you know if they'll be fully functional?"

  Aaron is cautiously optimistic. "Probably."

  Jeffrie is alarmed by his casual uncertainty. Especially since he's recently advised her on more personal biological matters. "Probably??"

  Aaron shrugs. "We haven't done human trials. But we've been doing it with primates since the early nineties."

  Richard waves away concern. "The science is way more advanced than people think. A chimp in New Mexico has been through seventeen heads."

  Now Ben is alarmed. "Shouldn't that number be… lower?"

  Jeffrie says, "I.Q., E.Q. -- we have no idea what we'd be getting with any of these."

  Richard is getting snippy. "I don't know anyone who's been froz
en, do you?

  Ben does. "Walt Disney. They froze his head back in the sixties."

  Jeffrie holds up her iPhone, which projects the Snopes page. "And hid it in a secret chamber under Pirates of The Caribbean? Myth."

  Ben pulls out his own phone and holographically dials. "Parker will know. He was a belly dancer at EPCOT's Moroccan Pavilion during college. Well, not college. Massage school." (into the phone) "Parker, it's Ben. Was Disney's head cryogenically frozen?"

  Parker's voice comes through the speakerphone, crystal-clear. "Yes! Corporate just says it's a myth so Uncle Walt doesn't seem bonkers. Why? Is there any--"

  "Thanks, Parker." Ben hangs up. "Perfect fit. Freeken was a tireless advocate for business; Disney created a business empire."

  Jeffrie cranks her arm slightly in an 'aw, shucks' gesture. "Together, they mean business!"

  But Ben isn't kidding. "We would have one of the most beloved figures of the 20th Century, back from the dead."

  "What about their families?" Jeffrie asks.

  Richard has lawyered the shit out of every angle. "The Disneys have no claim."

  Ben tilts his head, technically, yes, but... "We'd need them on board, if only for PR."

  Richard says, "Well, Cricket just wants to be First Lady. Like she told me, 'I didn't blow that man for ten years to end up back in Texas.'"

  Jeffrie sighs, "wistful." "She sounds just like Ladybird Johnson."

  The shooting happened at the pace of an iceberg thawing compared to the week that follows. (Whatever iceberg-thawing speed you're picturing, multiply it by ten. The good news: there are still icebergs in 2020.) Richard quietly convinces the doctors at Walter Reed to undertake some groundbreaking "research." While the shocked nation waits in a state of suspended animation, Disney's head is secretly thawed and attached to Freeken's body, which is then reanimated. Ben and Jeffrie carefully groom the public face of the crisis. Which turns out to be Cricket. She rises to the occasion, tweeting that the election must