Pamela Abrams nodded. “They’d allow both, under strict constraints. They also argue that requirements for ethical treatment of intelligences will act as a brake on research…”

Pryce tuned out of Abrams, studied John Stockton instead.

A lot had changed.

ERD research on Nexus vaccines and cures had been shut down, except of course, for research on how Congress could get root access to the Nexus in their own brains. Nexus children had been sent from ERD centers to child protective services, and Stockton was pushing to send them back to families. Nexus scanners at train stations and airports and public buildings were being switched off. An involuntary-exposure exception to the Chandler Act had been rushed through, conveniently excusing Congress of any crime. There was talk of passing a medical exception as well, with Stockton’s support, perhaps of repealing other small parts of it.

If the Chandler Act held together at all, that was. If the Democrats didn’t rout them completely in 42, take the Congress, overturn the Chandler Act, pull out of the Copenhagen Accords, and impeach John Stockton.

Pryce shook her head. It was going to be a rough ride.

In the meantime, Jameson’s role in creating the PLF had been revealed. Safe, now that he was dead, the cynic in her said. But revealed nonetheless.

Pryce kept studying the President.

It wasn’t just the world that had changed.

This man had changed.

John Stockton sat there, his eyes on Abrams, but his gaze far away. He looked years older than he had a month ago, his hair grayer, deeper lines evident on his face.

He was quieter now. More somber. More reflective. Slower to answer. More prone to question himself.

Funny how the experience of one person could have such an impact on billions of others.

Pryce wondered what that said about the way the world was run.

Nothing good, she was sure of that.

All politics is personal, Pryce thought. It turns out all policy is personal, too.

She’d thought once that policy was a rational thing. That it could be decided based on logic and analysis, optimized to maximize the likelihood of best outcomes, either for the world, the nation, or at least for one side or the other.

But no. None of those could compete with the personal experience of one man.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth. A taste of disappointment.

She made a mental note to put that in her memoir.

As for herself…

She imagined people thought she was quieter these days too.

How could you be anything else? After you’d learned that policies you’d pursued had been based on lies. She went home at night, to her empty condo, her empty life, that had once been filled with work she thought was meaningful.