“I’m fine,” he protested. “Get back. Get back to your places!”

Some members of the cabinet expressed concern for the president’s fall. Others chuckled politely, trying to ease the tension of the moment. A few thought they had observed an understandable mishap caused by the lights coming on so suddenly in the darkened room. But all such notions quickly vanished when the new president of the United States opened his mouth.

“Thish—is a most terrible thing—” he said, pointing to the video screen and wagging his head from side to side. “It’s a terrible, terrible, terrible thing—and we’re gonna —we’re gonna get it—we’re gonna get a big, red bouncing ball crashing down on Hollywood, California—jush like in the movies. . . .”

Vince D’Agostino was on his feet in a split second. At his signal, two aides grabbed hold of each of President Rust’s arms and physi cally lifted him from his chair, propelling him from the room. As he was seized, Rust roared in anger and flailed his arms. “Turn me loosh—you little pipsqueaks!” But before he could say another word, he was out of the room with the door closed behind him.

The cabinet members were aghast at what they had just witnessed. But before anyone could get up, speak, leave the room, or respond in any way, the chief of staff returned and immediately took control of the situation. “Please excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. As you can see, the president is not himself today. Clearly, he is overcome with grief and fatigue. He has been through so much in just the past eight hours or so, as have we all. I hope you will understand the situation and be sympathetic. After a good night’s rest, the president will be himself again and will be in command once more. But for now, if you will allow me, please, I will stand in for just a moment. Can we please continue—Dr. Eisenblatt—ladies and gentlemen?”

There was concern in the eyes of those in the briefing room, but Vince was so surprisingly polished and capable, and so firmly in charge, that no one could argue. One by one, they settled back in their seats and returned to the present order of business.

“Basic business,” Vince continued, breathing more easily. “We need to take care of basic business. First of all, I would like to request on behalf of the president that Mr. Augustus and his staff in the Defense Department, especially in light of all we have seen so far—be prepared to move forward with full implementation of their disaster relief plans.”

“Yes, sir.” Al Augustus nodded. “We are prepared to do that.”

“Good,” said Vince. “I know you are. And I recognize, too, that all of you in this room need to coordinate your activities and come to some sort of agreement among you as to how you propose mounting relief operations and engaging your various departments for this— this tragedy. What else can we call it?” Vince could see that his words were having their desired effect and that calm was being restored to the meeting.