One of the soldiers at the table—a beefy guy whose name patch read, CAMERON—yelled with the voice of a drill instructor, “Ladies and gentlemen, find your line and claim your name badge. This badge must remain with you at all times. It will indicate your bunk number, your assigned mealtimes and any medications you need to take. The orientation booklet will explain how the system works. Under no circumstances are you to contemplate leaving this facility without permission from the senior staff of Solara. Our purpose is to keep everyone safe so that you may do your job of delivering the nation from calamity. If you have questions, now is not the time. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Penn looked around to verify that he and Strasky were still part of a very small vanguard force of refugees. “You should save your voice,” he told Cameron with a smile. “You’ll be giving that speech quite a few times, I imagine.”

Cameron ignored him.

Penn wandered up to the young man behind the letter G. “Penn Glendale,” he said. “Speaker of the U.S. House—”

“I hate to interrupt, sir,” the soldier said. Name patch: ST. JAMES. “Titles don’t matter here. Not to us. As Mr. Cameron said, your job is to run the country, our job is to run the Annex.” As he spoke, St. James riffled through a Bankers Box that was jammed with manila envelopes. With a triumphant nod, he plucked one out and handed it over. “Glendale, Pennington J. Here you go, sir.”

“This seems very analog for a high-tech facility,” Penn quipped.

“It is what it is, sir. First thing you want to do is clip the name badge to your pocket. You do not want to lose that, sir. Sleep with it and take it into the shower with you. Seriously, I cannot emphasize that enough.”

“I don’t understand,” Penn said. “This is the United States Congress. We’re what you might call a pretty exclusive club. We all know who we are. Hell, if you read the newspapers, you know who we are, too.”

St. James eyed Penn with a kind of practiced indifference. “Sir, I am not here to argue with you. I am not here to explain. I have a job to do, and while it might not seem like much right now, in an hour or two, this place will be insane.”

“There’s no need to be unfriendly, son,” Penn said. He regretted his words the instant they left his mouth.

St. James’s expression didn’t change. “I am not your friend, sir. Nor am I your son. My colleagues and I are the law inside the Annex, and it makes little sense to make friends with people we may very well have to take into custody someday. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Glendale?”

“You forget whom you’re talking to,” Penn said.