I woke up the next morning in my bed back at the house. I had a vague recollection of Dad picking up and carrying , but I guess I faded back to sleep sowhere along the way. I was firmly tucked in, my blankets wrapped tightly around . It was warm and cozy and I could imagine just lying here for hours. Except, of course, I was King of the Earth and in the beginning stages of world conquest.
So, at six AM, I was up and headed to the Headquarters Treehouse for a situation update and breakfast. Dad was already there going over reports. "Hey squirt. Sleep well?" He asked.
"Sure did, I barely rember you bringing back down to the house. Thanks for tucking in, Dad," I smiled.
He smiled back, "I thought I should enjoy it before you get too old and start telling you can do it by yourself."
"Oh, Dad. I an, obviously I can do it by myself... It’s just better when you do it."
He laughed, "Thanks for that, son."
"So, anything new?" I asked, nodding toward the viewscreens.
"Well, Joe has found so CIA communications going to the Embassy in Guatemala. They’re sending so people in to ’assess the situation.’ They will be undercover as embassy staff."
"They could just pick up a phone and ask what the situation is instead of trying to sneak around," I said.
Dad laughed. "I guess they could," he agreed, "but where’s the fun in that?"
"So why don’t we have so fun, too," I suggested.
Dad raised an eyebrow, "What do you have in mind?" he asked, grinning.
"I was thinking that maybe we have an official welco for them at the airport. A big sign that says, "Welco Joe Smith and John Doe of the Central Intelligence Agency to friendly Guatemala, Central Arica’s shining beacon of freedom and democracy. Except put their real nas in." I said, grinning right back at Dad.
He laughed, "and maybe sothing like, Congratulations on your ten-year service anniversary with the firm, John!"
I laughed, too. "...and great job on recruiting the Pakistani Treasury Minister as the newest CIA asset."
We laughed so hard we had to wipe tears from our eyes.
"So, seriously, though," Dad started when we recovered, "Rafael is going to want to call his old organization, ostensibly to recruit them for Food First. Do we trust him enough to let him make those calls?"
"I think so. I an, let’s leave it up to Mom. She knows him best." I regretted saying that as soon as it ca out of my mouth. Dad’s face changed, any trace of the laughter we had shared just seconds before disappeared, replaced by that emotion you see in the movies where a guy is playing poker, and his big bluff has just been called.
Thankfully, Joe chose that mont to join the conversation, "The President is still committed to arresting anyone who has committed cris. It might be possible to work out an amnesty under the guise of a work program where they are required to perform community service under Mirabel’s direction, with a mandatory rediation class. Any who refuse to cooperate or whom Maribel deems unfit will be turned over to the police for trial."
"What about those who are in the police or military who took bribes or helped the traffickers?" Dad asked, "I’m sure Arroyo will want them jailed for breaching the public trust of their positions. Maybe we can trade a list of their nas in exchange for leniency for the others?"
"But I’m sure a bunch of them weren’t really given a choice," I interjected, "You know, take this money and look the other way, or else."
"There’s always a choice," Dad said.
"Not when you know that the police commissioner in your district is already working for them and would be the one to decide on your report of a bribe offer! Dad, we can’t bla them for that. Well, not all the way."
"So, what then? Do we let them stay hidden and keep working in law enforcent?" Dad asked.
"No..." I admitted, "they’d be subject to blackmail if anyone knew about it... We can’t have people hiding secrets in positions of responsibility," I said, "but we can offer to help President Arroyo get them out of their official positions IF he agrees to let them co work with Food First under the amnesty program."
"If he’s even willing to discuss an amnesty program at all." Dad replied.
"Maybe a list of CIA and other foreign intelligence agents in Guatemala would sweeten the pot?" I suggested. "Joe, can you put that together based on the information you’ve gathered from hacking into communications and computer systems?"
"Yes. I have a list with an estimated accuracy of just over 93%. I’m sure there are no false positives, but I can’t be 100 percent sure that I haven’t missed anyone operating covertly without ongoing contact," Joe answered. "In fact, it’s probable that our mystery hit squad has so state actor involvent, although I have no direct evidence of that."
"Should we hand that list over to him? I’m not sure that’s a good idea." Dad countered.
"Yes. Guatemala is going to be the first country on Earth to join The Kingdom of Earth, and I don’t want outside governnts mucking that up with spies. They will deal with Guatemala openly and above board or not at all," I said trying to sound stern and kingly.
Joe interrupted the conversation, "If I may, King Tim, I would like to remind you that you have an interview at UMass Amherst at 2:00 PM this afternoon. Your father has offered to make a generous donation to the school to show his appreciation for them allowing you to interview for acceptance into their physics program."
"I did?" Dad asked.
"Let imprint the relevant details into your mory," Joe replied. A minute later it was done.
Dad looked kind of surprised. "How much money do you have?" he asked staring at .
"I don’t know," I said smiling, "I have people for that."
"The interview ans they will have the Dean et with you, ask whatever he feels will show that you are not ready for admission, then bid you good day and offer to let you try again in a few years," Joe explained. "However, your knowledge of math and physics far exceeds his or anyone else’s on Earth because of the learnings from other civilizations that I have helped you learn. You must impress him without revealing key points that might allow him to deduce new types of math. Without that, Earth scientists simply can’t unlock so of the more advanced technologies that you have at your disposal."
"I just hope he’s smart enough to understand my answers," I said smiling.
"Don’t be a smart-ass. That’ll get you sent ho faster than anything," Dad advised.
I nodded at Dad’s sage advice.
"OK, Joe, send Mom the amnesty offer we propose. It must include everybody, regardless of their previous position in the military or police, but they all co to work for us and take mandatory civics classes with a focus on social obligations. Those n that Rafael feels are irredeemable, those who enjoyed killing and torture, should be imprisoned while we figure out how to introduce the mind imprinting tech and see if we can save even them. Joe, if you can screen them, I’ll trust your judgnt.
Ask Mom to have Rafael talk about the Mayan tradition of focusing on repairing the damage to the community rather than punishnt. That’s going to also be a focus of the world governnt, so we want to keep things consistent. With the advanced rehabilitation capacities of the mind imprinting and training tech, it’s really the only approach that makes sense."
I noticed Dad looking at with an appraising eye. "I think you are going to be a good king, Tim. I really do."
"You didn’t think I’d be a good king before now, but you helped take over a country?" I asked.
"Well, you know..." Dad shrugged, "If there’s going to be a king of the world, you’d rather have it be soone in the family." He smiled playfully.
I grinned, "Oh, you think I’ll play favorites?"
"I’m counting on it, my dear son. I’m counting on it." He raised both hands and put them behind his head, leaning back leisurely. "I already quit my job for this, you know."
"Don’t worry, Dad," I said, "We’ll find you a nice comfortable old folks ho..."
"Hey, I’m only 28!" He yelled with playful indignance.
"Dad, that’s like almost four tis the average age of a king of Earth," I said.
He laughed, "I guess it is. Just make sure they have vanilla pudding for dessert twice a week, and bingo on Thursdays."
"No problem, I’m told that if you build them a new wing, you get to pick your own desserts."
Dad grinned.
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