?Of course,? the senator said, taking my hand and shaking it. He had a good grip, solid without being overwhelming, and the teeth he revealed when he smiled were straight and white. ?It?s a pleasure to meet all three of you. I?ve been watching your precampaign preparations with interest.? He released my hand.
?We had a lot to accomplish and not much time to accomplish it in,? I said.
?A lot to accomplish? verged on understatement. We had seven baby bloggers contact us before we finished eating dinner, all wanting to know if we were planning to schism. Once people knew the size of the story we?d landed, there was no way striking out on our own would have been a surprise, so we didn?t try to make it one. The folks at Bridge Supporters were sorry to see us go and pleased by our severance offer: We took exclusive rights to all campaign-trail stories to our new site, but we allowed them to keep running two of Buffy?s ongoing poetry series, gave them first rights on any continuations to Shaun?s series on exploring the ruins of Yreka, and guaranteed two op-ed pieces from me per month for the next year. They?d get click-through reads from the folks following us on campaign, and we?d get the same in return as existing Bridge Support readers found their way to our new site through the shared material. My friend Mahir had been looking to move on to new challenges, and he was glad to sign on to help me moderate the Newsies. Shaun and Buffy had their own hiring to do, and I left it to them.
Finding a host for our new site was disturbingly easy. One of Buffy?s biggest fans runs a small ISP, and he was willing to put us up and online in exchange for a minimal fee and a lifetime membership to our exclusive features, once we had some to offer. Less than twenty minutes after calling him, we had a URL, a place to put our files, and our very first subscriber. The baby bloggers who contacted us the first night were quickly joined by two dozen others, and that gave us the liberty to pick and choose, looking for people who fit a profile other than ?available.? We wound up with twelve supporting betas, four in each major category, already producing content for a site that hadn?t even officially launched yet. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe it could be that easy to get everything you?d ever wanted? but it was.
After the End Times went live six days after we got the notice that we had been chosen to accompany Senator Ryman?s campaign, with my name on the masthead as senior editor, Buffy listed as our graphic designer and technical expert, and Shaun responsible for hiring and marketing. Whether we sank or swam, there was no going back; once you make alpha, you can never be a beta again. Blogging is a territorial world, and the other betas would eat you alive if you tried.
I hadn?t slept more than four hours a night in two weeks. Sleep was a luxury reserved for people who weren?t trying to design their futures around a meal ticket that might still prove to be a rotten apple. I just had to hope the dirt we found on the campaign trail would be enough to support us, or our careers would be short, sour, and too interesting by far.
?Still, you seem to have done all right,? Senator Ryman said. His Wisconsin accent was stronger than it sounded on the newscasts; either he didn?t realize we were filming, or he figured there was no point in playing fake around the people who were going to be sharing his quarters over the next year. ?If you?ll come with me, Emily has a nice lunch going, and she?s been looking forward to meeting you.?
?Is your wife coming with you for the whole campaign?? I asked. He started to walk toward a nearby door, and I followed, gesturing for the others to do the same. We knew the answer already?Emily Ryman was going to be staying on the family ranch in Parrish, Wisconsin, during most of the year, taking care of the kids while her husband did the moving and shaking?but I wanted him to say it for our pickup recordings. The best sound clips are the ones you gather for yourself.
?Em? I couldn?t make her come the whole way if I used a tractor pull,? the senator said, and opened the door. ?Wipe your feet, all three of you. There?s no point to making you go through another damned blood test?if you?re this far past the gate and you?re not clean, we?re dead already. May as well be friendly about it.? Then he was inside, bellowing, ?Emily! The bloggers are here!?
Shaun gave me a look, mouthing ?I like him.? I nodded. We?d just met the man, and he was probably a master of political bullshit, but I was starting to like him, too. There was something about him that said ?I know how pointless all of these political circuses are. Let?s see how it long it takes for them to realize that I?m just playing along, shall we?? I had to respect that.
He might be playing us for a bunch of saps, but if he was, he?d slip eventually, and we?d take him apart. That would be almost as much fun as getting along with him, and definitely better for our market share.