?And some of us can?t,? I said dryly. Buffy weighs ninety-five pounds, soaking wet. The one time we took her out drinking, she wound up climbing onto a table and reciting half of Night of the Living Dead before Shaun and I could pull her down. ?Thank you, Mrs?. Emily.?
Her smile was approving. ?You can be taught. Now all of you, go sit down while I finish taking care of business. Peter, that means you, too.?
?Yes, dear,? said the senator, kissing her on the cheek before moving to take a seat at the dining room table. The three of us followed him in an obedient, slightly ragged line. I?ll challenge senators and kings for the right to know the truth, but far be it from me to challenge a woman in her own kitchen.
Watching the places everyone took around the table was interesting in a purely sociological sense. Shaun settled with his back to the wall, affording him the best view of the room. He may seem like an idiot, but in some ways, he?s the most careful of us all. You can?t be an Irwin and not learn some things about keeping your exits open. If the zombies ever mob en masse again, he?ll be ready. And filming.
Buffy took the seat nearest the light, where the cameras studded through her jewelry would get the best pickup shots. Her portables work on the principles defined during the big pre-Rising wireless boom; they transmit data to the server on a constant basis, allowing her to come back later and edit it at her leisure. I once tried to figure out how many transmitters she actually had on her, but wound up giving up and wandering off to do something more productive, like answering Shaun?s fan mail. He gets more marriage proposals a week than he likes to think about, and he lets me handle them all.
The senator took the seat closest to the kitchen and his wife, thus conveniently leaving me the chair with the highest degree of shadow. So he was a family man and someone who understood that consideration was a virtue. Nice. I settled, asking, ?You provide home-cooked meals for all your news staff??
?Just the controversial ones,? he replied, his tone easy and assured. ?I?m not going to beat around the bush. I read your public reports, your op-ed pieces, everything, before I agreed to your application. I know you?re smart and won?t forgive bullshit. That doesn?t,? he held up a finger, ?mean I?m going to be one hundred percent straight with you, because there are some things no reporter ever gets to be privy to. Mostly having to do with my home life and my family, but still, there are no-go zones.?
?We respect that,? I said. Shaun and Buffy were nodding.
Senator Ryman seemed to approve, because he nodded in turn, looking satisfied. ?Nobody wanted me to bring blog folks on this campaign,? he said, without preamble. I sat up a little straighter. The entire online community knew that the senator?s handlers had been recommending against including bloggers in the official campaign press corps, but I?d never expected to hear it put so baldly. ?They have this idea that you three will report whatever you damn well want to and not what?s good for the campaign.?
?So you?re saying they?re pretty smart, then?? Shaun asked, in a bland surfer-boy drawl that might almost have been believable, if he hadn?t been smirking as he said it.
The senator roared with laughter, and Emily looked up from the stove, clearly amused. ?That?s what I pay them for, so I certainly hope so, Shaun. Yeah, they?re pretty smart. They?ve got you pegged for exactly what you are.?
?And what?s that, Senator?? I asked.
Sobering, he leaned forward. ?The children of the Rising. Biggest revolution that our generations?yours, mine, and at least two more besides?are ever going to see. The world changed overnight, and sometimes I?m sorry I was born too early to be in on the ground level of what it?s turned into. You kids, you?re the ones who get to shape the real tomorrow, the one that?s going to matter. Not me, not my lovely wife, and certainly not a bunch of talking heads who get paid to be smart enough to realize that a bunch of Bay Area blogger kids are going to tell the truth as they see it, and damn the political consequences.?
Eyebrows rising again, I said, ?That does very little to explain why you felt it was important that we be here.?
?You?re here because of what you represent: the truth.? The senator smiled, boyish once more. ?People are going to believe whatever you say. Your careers depend on how many dead folks your brother can prod with a stick, how many poems your friend can write, and how much truth you can tell.?
?So what if the things we say don?t paint you in a good enough light?? Buffy frowned, tilting her head. It would have looked like a natural gesture if I hadn?t known the silver moon-and-star earring dangling from her left ear was a camera that responded to head gestures. She was zooming in on the senator to catch his answer.