The very possibility of this was beyond comprehension. Penn stared at the assembled members of Congress, and while he realized he had to do something, nothing came to mind. He’d lived in Washington for so long that everyone he knew, everything he understood, was there. His wife and daughter and three of his grandchildren all lived in Northwest Washington. If the predictions he’d just heard were true, he’d just lost everyone.

As the realization poured over the House Chamber, people started to wail. They cried. Kent Kiser, of Missouri, spewed profanity, none of which seemed focused on anyone in particular.

Penn needed to reel this in somehow. Now was a time for action. They’d have all of eternity to mourn. He rapped on the table with his knuckle, wishing with each strike that the Solara folks had thought to provide him with a gavel. “Ladies and gentlemen of the United States Congress,” he said. When he saw that he’d attracted only a few people’s attention, he repeated himself, and then pounded the table with his hand again.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the United States Congress, we cannot get ahead of ourselves on this. We don’t know anything, other than the fact the communications are down, and that the Solara people are looking into that. Isn’t that right, Mr. Johnson?”

“It’s our first priority, Mr. Speaker.”

“Very well. Is Representative Colson in the chamber?”

A dark-haired gaunt doppelganger for Ichabod Crane stood from a chair three-quarters of the way up the banked chamber. Oscar Colson was the majority whip, and a friend of Penn’s for nearly twenty years. “I’m right here, Mr. Speaker.”

“And Representative Grogan. Are you in the chamber?”

Anna Grogan, minority whip, raised her hand from the third row, on Penn’s right. “Right here,” she said. Her face had drained of color, and her red-rimmed eyes gave her the appearance of the living dead.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Grogan?”

“As all right as anyone, I suppose. Which means, of course, I’m not all right. But do you need something?”

Penn bobbed his head. He wished for a return to the normalcy of Robert’s Rules and stilted language. Was civil language the first casualty of this new war?

“Mr. Colson and Ms. Grogan, I would like you to work together and get an accurate count of who is present in the chamber. As importantly, I want to know who is not here.”

“You mean, take roll?” Colson asked. He sounded incredulous.

“Exactly that,” Penn said. “We seem to be short on clerical staff at the moment.”

“To what end?”

“Please. Just please.”

Representative Grogan arose and sidestepped past other members’ feet and knees to make her way toward the closest aisle.

Penn looked up to the A/V booth. “Pete, talk to me. What’ve you got?”