“I am in charge,” Penn announced. “The Twenty-fifth Amendment makes it crystal clear that with POTUS and VPOTUS both dead, the Speaker of the House becomes president.” As he uttered the words, he wondered if he might throw up. He had no idea what he’d just taken charge of, and he had no idea how physically to make any of this work, but he could think of no better, more literal example of a time when failure was not an option.

The chamber rumbled with discontent, but no one was yet willing to commit to any comments to the record.

“Captain, as your new commander in chief, I have my first order for you. I want you to stay on the line and work with my comms guy Pete to find a way to reestablish real-time avenues of communication. This darkness has to end.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Brinks said.

Pete’s voice of God added, “You’ve got it, Mr. President.”

A chill shot through Penn as he heard those words directed to him. Mr. President. It was a job he’d never wanted, never campaigned for, yet here it was, under the worst possible circumstances. He turned to Arlen Strasky, who had seated himself among the members. Penn hoped that through eye contact alone, his chief of staff would answer his most terrifying question: How can we be sure the president is dead?

Majority Leader Randy Banks stood at his seat.

“Leader Banks,” Penn said.

With brown hair, brown eyes and of average height, Randy Banks cut as unimpressive a figure as a man could cut, but he was a brilliant strategist when it came to party leadership. “Mr. President,” he said, “we need to get you sworn in.”

Penn felt heavier in his seat, as if literally taking on the weight of awesome and awful responsibility. “I’m not taking the oath of office until I am sure that President Blanton and Vice President Jenkins are both gone. We can’t have two presidents.”

“With due respect, sir,” Banks continued, “right now, we don’t even have one president. The nation needs leadership, sir. Whether or not Helen Blanton has a heartbeat is irrelevant. Ditto Clarence Jenkins. Right now, no one is leading. Assuming, of course, that’s there’s anything left to lead.”

Arlen Strasky stood at his seat. “Mr. President.”

Angela Fortnight jumped to her feet. “Point of order, Mr. Speaker.” Chiefs of staff were to be seen and not heard in the halls of Congress.

“Loosened rules, remember?” Penn said. “Go ahead, Arlen.”

“I think Mr. Banks is right,” Strasky said. “The nation needs leadership from the presidency. They need a commander in chief. The Twenty-fifth allows that power to be ceded temporarily, but that requires a piece of paper we don’t have, and one we can’t wait for. You need to be sworn in, sir.”