THE CHANGE - CHAPTER THREE

PART ONE: WELCOME TO ECHO COVE / PRESIDENTIAL TEARS FROM HEAVEN

PART ONE

WELCOME TO ECHO COVE

MONDAY, DECEMBER 22

THE MORNING SHIFT

THREE

Dr. Emily liked her personal parking spot in the Institute’s underground lot. It was still in the special “Reserved” zone, but seven rows back – Space #13G, to be precise – which put her as far away from the elevator doors as she could get and still be dead-center, walking up the middle lane, with clear sightlines for the whole vast parking structure.

The place really was a former Marriott hotel, requisitioned for the Institute by its mystery board of directors. Which meant, among other things, 350 spaces of indoor parking. For the past couple years, that had seemed like overkill; but over the last couple of days, the place was filling up fast. Now everybody was more than grateful. Well, at least on the parking front.

As for Em, she just treasured those couple extra minutes of ambulatory alone time it gave her, before stepping back into the chaos. A little chance to catch her breath.

Unless, of course, Ambrose called. If Ambrose called, you kinda had to take it.

Fortunately, that call didn’t come till she was going through Security, which this morning was just Bo by the elevator bank, with his holstered gun and his flirty grin. She flashed her I.D. out of habit and protocol, blew him a little kiss just for fun. Hopped in the elevator. Took the call. And hung up just as the elevator reached the lobby and went ding.

Then the doors slid open, and the barely-contained cacophony of the Echo Cove control center flooded her ears.

There were roughly 60 people in what used to be the lobby, its dozens of desks laid out like an old-fashioned newspaper newsroom. It was, in fact, where all the news came in from all over the world, was rapidly passed from station to station.

There were no cubicles on this floor. There was no walling off this flood of data. Em made her way across the room, smiling and nodding at people who were, like her, waaaay too busy to stop and chat. Each of them responding to some other weird fluke, some other inexplicable development.

At a large desk ringed by video monitors – way at the back of the vast expanse – Dr. Coco San Salvador stood out from the crowd by being six foot seven in business flats. In heels, she could practically punch the chandelier. But her manner was solemn, and her posture slightly stooped, as was often the case with the extravagantly tall. Sort of like 80’s icon Grace Jones on steroids, only straight as an arrow, and with a Mensa-level brain.

With her was Priss, her bespectacled assistant. She had the kind of dark goth mullet that Em had noticed coming back in style lately, like a slightly butch librarian who could swing either way. She also had a wicked wit, which came in handy, because Dr. Coco was not what you’d call a laff riot.

Dr. Emily couldn’t see what they were watching on their monitors, as she approached. But whatever it was, it was dropping their jaws.

“That can’t be real,” Dr. Coco said.

“I don’t know,” Priss countered. “It’s on all the networks.”

Em couldn’t bear the suspense, so she picked up the pace a little and said, “Now what?” Coming up alongside them.

“Umm…the President just burst into tears on live TV,” Dr. Coco said.

“What?”

“In the middle of a press conference,” Priss added.

“You’re kidding,” Em said. Now she, too, was staring. “What happened?”

“Well, he was up there, lying as usual,” Dr. Coco said. “And all of a sudden, he just choked up.”

“It’s so crazy…oh, wait. Is he leaving?” Priss laughed.

“Wow!”

“Look, there he goes now!” Now all three of them were laughing.

“Did he also say I’m sorry?” Em asked. “Cuz that would be unbelievable.”

“Now let’s not get carried away,” said Dr. Coco, turning away from the monitors at last. “So weren’t you coming in at 6:00 this morning?”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t Phil tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Okay. I’ll catch you up later. But meanwhile, another one just came in. Ambrose says we should meet her. Like, the sooner the better.”

“You think she’s dangerous?”

“That’d be my guess.”

Dr. Coco nodded. “Okay. Priss, you stay put.”

“I can do that.”

“And if anybody grows a nice pair of wings,” Dr. Emily added, “let us know, okay?”

“I’ll keep watching the skies.”

“God help us,” Coco said. And wished to God that she was joking.

Find the previous chapters here:

CHAPTER ONE - FIRST MIRACLE OF THE MORNING

CHAPTER TWO - JACUZZIS OR PIRANHAS