Chapter 17: Homer X Huma

Back on the east coat following evacuation Homer was mortified by everything that had happened in Chicago. Homer didn't want to talk to anyone, or do anything. Homer was just slowly drinking everything in his liquor cabinet. So slowly, in fact, that by the time Huma had gotten into the office Homer was nowhere near drunk. It probably helped that Homer had never bothered to turn off his antitoxin augment.

"How did you get in here?" asked Homer.

"I'm a reporter," said Huma. "I get in where I want."

"Or maybe," said Homer, pouring some more bourbon, "all the good door monitors are dead. Because I killed them."

"Oh stop it," Huma groaned, pulling a chair in front of Homer's desk, turning it backwards and sitting on it backwards like a hip twentieth century schoolteacher. Huma's snazzy retro outfit looked the part too. Glasses, loud tie-dye, and frizzy hair gave off a curiously judgmental air.

"You want any?" said Homer, shaking the bottle.

"No," Huma said flatly, taking the bottle away and putting it on the floor. "Look, you want to spend the next week feeling sorry for yourself that's fine. But right now? We have a very limited window of opportunity and I need to debrief you."

"What info?" said Homer. "We failed. We have no idea who's running Chicago now. The elections are just going to be a formality. What is it...three days?"

It was December twenty-sixth. Homer hadn't even been able to get any sleep last night after the parade. It suddenly occurred to Homer that having not spoken to anyone else on the subject hardly anyone really had a full picture of what exactly happened.

"I don't care about Chicago," said Huma. "I care about Jerry Shankar."

"What?" said Homer, jolting up a bit in shock. "How did you know Jerry Shankar was there?"

"There was a video online," said Huma. "Bragging about it to the whole Phantom Legion. Something about having the right documents with the right name to impersonate an election inspector."

"There's no such thing as an election inspector," said Homer.

"Do your soldiers know that?" asked Huma.

"Probably not," admitted Homer, shuddering at the sudden physical need for still more alcohol.

"I did manage to figure out where those fake documents came from," said Huma. " I was able to track the source back to Jerry Shankar, and now I have an interview."

"Why?" asked Homer, perplexed.

"It's a ruse," Huma said. "If I can keep the interview going on long enough, we can track down the exact location, capture Jerry Shankar, and bring him to trial."

"For what?" asked Homer, with an upturned eyebrow. "Strictly speaking, I don't think Jerry Shankar has actually broken any laws."

"Whose fault was the riot?"

"Shankar didn't actually admit to having done anything," said Homer. "All Shanar did was claim that some fireworks had provoked the various peacekeepers of the Christmas Parade into attacking each other. The phrasing implied some form of foreknowledge but it was extremely obvious that this was what would have happened even if we hadn't had that face-to-face meeting."

"Ugh!" cried Huma, leaning back in disgust. "Such a stickler! Dozens of your own people dead, and that's all you can do is try to defend them?"

"More than that," grumbled Homer.

"This is why I have to do public relations," snapped Huma. "Do you have any idea how bad morale would get if you admitted publically that Chicago was that big a disaster?"

"Thank you for your service on that," said Homer, very deliberately walking back to the fridge and pulling out the vodka this time. "Shankar was right. The peace in Chicago was so fragile that obliterating it was trivial. It didn't have to be the Phantom Legion. Any random idiot could have set off those fireworks."

"But Jerry Shankar was there!"

"I don't care," said Homer, sitting down and pouring a glass. "Our problems are bigger than any one person. And you know how I feel about these assassination missions. You're not even in the Rainbow Shirts. Should you be working with us like this?"

"The job of a journalist," said Huma, "is to make the world a better place. Do you think we're better off with scumbags like Jerry Shankar in a position of authority?"

"What authority?" said Homer, downing a shot. "That person just makes crude angry videos on the Internet. So of course I didn't think Jerry Shankar was all there. It's probably just a pseudonym anyway."

'Crude, angry videos, right," said Huma. "So it's just a coincidence that Jerry Shankar calls for certain people to die, and shortly after they die? Not to mention how every single scumbag I or you manage to interview knows that catchphrase."

"I'm not turning this country into more of a warzone than it already it is based on conjecture," said Homer. "Jerry Shankar is a symptom of our problems, not the cause."

"You know what?" said Huma, standing up, hands on hips. "I don't know why I'm wasting my time talking to you. You're always like this. I bet you don't know anything anyway. How could you? I mean sure, you talked to him for a few minutes, that's more than the rest of us, but I bet you weren't even paying attention."

"Hey, that's not true," said Homer, standing up in turn. "I may not have the memory augment, but I have the deductive one, which is a lot more useful."

"Yeah?" said Huma snarling, hands slammed on the table. "Prove it!"

Homer still found Huma's bloodthirsty arguments unpersuasive even in a mildly inebriated state. Nevertheless, Homer could deduce one important fact. Jerry Shankar did not fall into traps. Jerry Shankar set traps. Any help that Homer offered to Huma now would just give Huma a false sense of security. And right this moment, Homer was mad enough at Huma to assist the reporter in making a fool of themselves.

"When we spoke,there were two things I did that made Jerry Shankar angry," said Homer. "The first one was not, I don't think, that important, and was probably just feigned anger. Shankar acted annoyed yet ultimately patient when I decided to continue scouting the parade instead of engaging in conversation."

"OK," said Huma, backing down a bit, moving her arms into a crossed position. "What was the other thing?"

"Jerry Shankar got really mad," said Homer, thoughtfully and deliberately, "when I suggested that persons of Indian nationality were not unusual in Canada."

"That's it?" said Huma, disbelieving. "That made Jerry Shankar angry?"

"Well, hm, not quite," said Homer, further reflecting. "No, sorry, I mixed up the sequence of events. What made Jerry Shankar really mad was when I started talking about old Canadian literature featuring Indian protagonists. Jerry Shankar said those books were all written by white people."

Huma stared at Homer. Then Huma turned around, paced a bit, and faced Homer again. Huma struggled to speak, not sure how to respond to Homer's baffling statements.

"That's Jerry Shankar's weakness?" Huma said. "A hatred of Canadian literature?"

"No, it's subtler than that," said Homer. "Something about the assumptions in what I said really attacked Jerry Shankar's sense of personal identity. It was different than the anger in the videos. It was less manufactured. I think I pierced Jerry Shankar's inner narrative, however accidentally."

"I see," said Huma, "so you think I could beat Jerry Shankar by going after racial insecurities?"

"No," said Homer. "Jerry Shankar's too smart for that. Whatever's going on, Jerry Shankar is leading you into a trap. I'm sure of it. Even if you did provoke Jerry Shankar, it wouldn't change whatever sequence of events has already been planned."

"Well, you know what? I'm fine with that," said Huma. "Attacking someone's racial insecurities is a low blow. I would never do that and you should be ashamed of yourself for suggesting it."

"Right, right, of course," said Homer. "Assassinating people without trial, that's one thing. But racial insecurities? Oh, now we've gone too far!"

Huma gave Homer a very harsh look. Huma breathed out through nasally, clearly contemplating something very mean and nasty.

"It's always a pleasure speaking to you, Homer Ikari," Huma said, giving a slight curtsy. "Hopefully next time it will be under more joyous circumstances."

And with that Huma was out the door, slamming it on the way out, not that Homer much minded. This time Homer made sure to turn off the antitoxin augment before drinking again. Homer had the feeling this was going to be a very long week.