All the way to Miskatonic Sector and Dr. Doorne’s office, Spruance Del Curtin kept thinking about his discussion with Cindy. He’d never really thought about societies that way. Back in Houston, they’d studied about the history of government, from the early god-kings of Egypt and Mesopotamia to Greek democracy and the Roman republic, and how both Greece and Rome had been models for the Founding Fathers. But their teachers had never really dug into the whys and wherefores of how the different forms of government related to how people within their societies related to one another.
Now a lot of stuff made sense — like why all the nation-building in certain parts of the world kept failing and countries kept descending into warlordism just as soon as the troops left. He recalled an image he’d seen recently on the newsroom TV, of Israeli soldiers trying to distribute emergency food packages to a crowd of people who were all pushing and shoving to get to the front and grab something. Even with a number of the soldiers pushing back, trying to make sure everyone had a fair crack at the food, it was clear that some people were grabbing several and others were being pushed aside, if not outright trampled underfoot.
Other than Israel, the Middle East had been a mess long before the Energy Wars. And now that mess made a lot more sense in terms of a lack of basic trust beyond the family unit, the clan, the tribe.
Which raised the next question — how did it relate to all those data sets he was doing for Dr. Doorne? Were they so different because they were data from different countries with different levels of social cohesion?
Except he couldn’t come right out and ask her, not as long as there were still data sets needing sanitized. If he knew what he was working with, it would compromise his ability to do an unbiased job.
On the other hand, there might be other ways of approaching the problem. The data had to come from somewhere, and likely he knew someone who would know.
Even as he was contemplating that problem, his phone chimed. He pulled it out to find a message from Brenda Redmond. We’ve got a problem. I’m going to need some help.
Sprue felt a rising annoyance at her assumption that he’d jump right in. Then he remembered her husband was a Shep, so she had just as much lineage-right as Autumn Belfontaine. Better deal with it, so that he didn’t have to deal with Drew’s wrath when the restrictions were lifted and pilots could visit family again.
What’s wrong?
Kitty just got a garbled message from a friend dirtside, and now she’s on the edge of panic. We need to figure out what’s going on, and right now her aunt’s dealing with some kind of mess down at the port facility.
It took a moment for Sprue to realize what she was talking about. Yes, Cindy’s little sister Kitty had been worried this morning. She kept sneaking peeks at her phone at breakfast, even though you weren’t supposed to be using your phone in the dining commons. Hadn’t Brenda gone over to their apartment last week or so, some kind of thing about a friend in Houston having an emergency and needing an adult to sort things out?
Right now I need to meet with my new boss. But as soon as we’re done talking, I’ll see what I can do to help.
OK. TTYL