“He’s about 650.”

“Years? Wuahaha!” He belly laughed so hard he half expected whoever was in the room next door to bang on the wall.

She cringed, but smiled despite herself. “Years.”

He continued laughing. “Wow, you really do like ’em older, don’t you? Next time I find a gray hair, I’ll keep it to myself.”

Her smile faded, and he began kissing her. Softly at first, then increasing in intensity. “If that’s the thing you’re worried about, if that’s the worst thing you’ve got, it’s okay. We’re prepared.”

He pulled her in, wanting to resume what he’d started, wanting to feel close to her, but she still felt distant, and a part of him wondered if this little revelation, this thing he had always deep down known to be true, wasn’t actually the most damning skeleton in her closet.

49

49

“Chairman Leahy, Ranking Member Specter, members of the committee. My name is Cora Emiliana Sabino. I am twenty-one years old, and studied linguistics at the University of California–Irvine, and plan to continue my studies at Columbia University starting this fall. For three months, I worked as a communication intermediary for a subsidiary agency of the Department of Health and Human Services called the Refugee Organization and Settlement Agency, or ROSA.”

She glanced up every sentence or so to the wall of old men and smattering of old women who lorded over her. She had been in near meltdown mode that morning, but by now the whole thing was so surreal, so heavy, her brain had quietly detached itself, and she was on autopilot.

“I must clarify that my mind is my own, because there are many out there who believe that it is not. I was not subpoenaed by Congress, nor was I compelled by any government agency, nor have I been compelled by any outside influence, human or ETI.”

Cora’s introductory speech, carefully tuned by herself, Kaveh, and a bunch of lobbyists, lasted about twenty minutes. Then the sharks began to feed. Kaveh had been right; her questioning did go on a good bit longer than Miranda’s. It began with the chairman, then the ranking member, and on down the line.

To her surprise, the Third Option supporters on the committee were nowhere near as vicious to her as Cohen had been to Miranda. Some were more pressing than others, but none of them asked questions that were either incriminating or would force her to lie under oath. After the twentieth or so senator, her nerves were fried, but in a manner that felt like, if they really wanted to make this go on forever, fine. I can take it.