35. Deny. Deny. AI. Hoax. Paid Actors.
Baczewski sat beside Curtis. Jim, Curtis’ subordinate and also the custodian of the magical mailbox to the gods, was pacing around, muttering to himself.
“How could she throw us under the bus like this!”
The three were waiting to be called in for the hearing, which, according to Jim, should not have been taking place at all.
This was dangerous, the three were in agreement. Giving vote-farmers direct access to the gods? Opening a can of Ebola in the New York subway would be less lethal than that.
Curtis told Jim to settle down, and the three put their heads together.
“Deny, deny,” Curtis whispered. “AI. Hoax. The DNI is lying. The President is lying.”
The other two exchanged looks and nodded with grim expressions.
This was going to be the end for all three of them.
But of course, the Chinese and the Russians lingered in the back of Baczewski’s mind. If either of them came out clean, today’s predicament would be all for naught. In that sense, he was relieved the hearing was televised. The Chinese would see what he and his men were doing. The Russians would also see. Both the FSB and the MSS would see that the CIA had no intention of failing at the game theory.
Baczewski noticed Curtis making a quick prayer. “Curtis, were you just… praying?”
“Yeah, I asked for courage,” said Curtis with a faint smile. This was a bit embarrassing.
“Maybe a letter would be a better option,” Baczewski ventured as a joke, and the three shared a nervous laugh.
***
Rippa gnawed on her thumbnail, waiting for the hearing to start. She had the broadcast on the main screen, her chat on the side monitor. For now, her viewers were just memeing themselves. But for how long?
Rippin’ Rippa was on-air, an unscheduled live-stream, a watchalong. All major news networks were airing the House-Senate Joint Inquiry, and Rippa had many of them open in other tabs so she could switch if needed. She hoped YouTube’s copyright algorithm wouldn’t take her down mid-stream.
There were already thousands of viewers with her. After all, this whole thing was about her very close friend. Someone mentioned tacos, and the chat was discussing the domino effect. From a taco truck to Congress. What an escalation.
She had no clue what was going to happen. ‘Is Buttons really going to pop up there?’ she wondered.
Last she checked, Buttons was practicing jumping off her balcony into the waiting arms of Goggles, which Rippa had thought was odd, considering the palace was unlikely to go up in flames under Goggles’ watch, so a fire drill wasn’t really necessary. Besides, why now, all of a sudden?
Rippa tried to imagine what would happen if Buttons really did appear.
‘She wouldn’t be violent, right? It wouldn’t be too bad,’ Rippa thought. She recalled the brutal beating the kid had taken. Yes, Buttons did fight back, but only against immediate physical danger. Even Goggles! Even when his precious ojousama had been beaten to a pulp and her arms broken, he killed nobody. He didn’t lay a finger on anyone.
‘Godzilla stepping on a Lego…’
So, yeah, maybe Rippa was worried for nothing. ‘At worst, Buttons would say some inappropriate words,’ Rippa was now convinced. More likely, Buttons would appear, that is, if she really did, and then just politely ask, “Hello, sirs, could you please leave me alone?”
A movement on screen brought Rippa’s attention back to her immediate reality. She watched three suited men come in and take seats at a long table.
‘CIA’
‘FEDS’
Along with her… now nine thousand viewers, VTuber Rippin’ Rippa held her breath. It was real. As unhinged as it might sound, Congress really was going to ask the CIA if gods were real.
***
“—Director Baczewski, would you elaborate on what you told the Director of National Intelligence?” a Senator was demanding.
“I cannot divulge a briefing between the CIA and the DNI in such an open setting as this. I’m sorry,” Baczewski stated.
The Senator scowled. “But the DNI has already testified.”
“With my comment, unconfirmed information loses its ambiguity, which benefits our adversaries. Again, Senator, I cannot divulge—”
The Senator sighed and addressed Curtis this time. “Deputy Director Curtis, what is your assessment of the viral videos? As the head of the Science and Technology Directorate?”
Curtis leaned too closely into the mic. “Forensics is still reviewing the footage. I would wait for their final report.”
“What do you personally think?”
“AI-generated, Senator.”
“What about the… attack? There are hundreds of witnesses.”
“Only a handful of people had actually participated in the assault. I’d say… paid actors.”
“Paid actors?” The Senator raised his eyebrows.
“That is, of course, my personal take, and does not represent the CIA’s final assessment.”
***
Rippa’s chat was greatly offended.
‘Fuckers are denying Buttons is real!’
Rippa, on the other hand, already knew this was going to happen. The all-seeing eyes of Sauron had already read the script and told her so. It sent a chill down her spine. ‘Goggles really does know everything.’
The three CIA men were denying and deflecting, if not stalling.
Rippa wondered where they learned to wrap words around a vacuum so masterfully. As a streamer herself, she yapped a lot, but she yapped what she had to say. These folks, on the other hand, were yapping without really having anything to say.
***
“Deputy Director, do you believe in gods?”
“I’m a practicing Christian, Senator,” answered Curtis.
“That sounds rather counterintuitive, given your background.”
“On the contrary, Senator,” Curtis spoke too close to the mic again, “I believe science is God being generous. Giving us an easier way to understand His creation in a mathematical language that we all know.”
The Senator paused for a moment. “Would you say your faith in Christianity is playing a role in denying that this…” he checked his notes, “Goggles has god-like power?”
Curtis took a sharp breath in before answering. “I wouldn’t say that. No.”
“The President has acknowledged the CIA has been in contact with Mr. Goggles.”
“I have no knowledge, Senator. Perhaps not my Directorate.”
“Director Baczewski?”
“I have no comment.”
“Mr. Jim?”
“Above my pay grade, Senator.”
The Senator took his glasses off. “That’s very interesting. The DNI has specifically told us the CIA has a…” he checked his notes again, “a mailbox. Director Baczewski?”
“It seems Director Talbot is misinformed, Senator,” Baczewski said, shooting it down.
This was it. This was the beginning of his end.
“You were the one who briefed her on it!” the Senator raised his voice. He took some sheets of paper and shook them in the air. “It’s right here, her testimony! You told her the Directorate has a mailbox to the gods!”
Baczewski didn’t even blink. “It seems I have misworded some technicalities. I will talk to Director Talbot and rectify the misunderstanding.”
The Senator was seething. He shot ice daggers at the CIA Director before moving on to the weakest target.
“Mr. Jim.”
Jim flinched.
“The President has said the gods are real. The DNI has said you have been keeping a mailbox for decades. Is the President lying? Is the DNI lying? Or are Director Baczewski and Deputy Director Curtis lying? Do you have the mailbox, Mr. Jim?”
Jim took a deep breath.
***
‘As much as I hate the Feds, gotta admit these guys have some balls,’ a viewer wrote in chat.
“Yeah… Respect, I guess,” Rippa agreed. “By the way, chat, who’s this Talbot woman they keep bringing up?”
‘She’s the DNI. The CIA reports to her.’
‘Director of National Intelligence.’
“Huh?”
‘Rippa, you hate the Feds but don’t know the DNI? WTF?’
“How am I supposed to know— Wait, what’s he doing?” Rippa leaned in.
The CIA Director guy looked as if he was praying.
***
“—Mr. Jim?” the Senator demanded again, but only met with silence. He sighed. “You know, my old man used to say, if truth is your enemy, chances are you are evil. Are you evil, Mr. Jim?”
Jim shut his eyes tight and clenched his teeth. He screamed inside. ‘Fuck! Fuck!’
And then, there were surprised screams. Chairs squeaked as many jumped up from their seats and hastily stepped away.
A hand squeezed Jim’s shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up.
The man looked down and met Jim’s gaze. He gave a very polite nod of appreciation.