It's been a long day, preparing for the State of the Union address, but it's finally almost over.
You stand up, stretching, and your back cracks satisfyingly. The president's address, playing on the TV near your desk, becomes background noise as you sort the papers on your desk, organizing for tomorrow. A mental note from earlier today gets jotted down on to your to-do list: you have to start looking into candidates to replace the HUD secretary. As you try to remember the other things you have to take care of tomorrow, your screen goes black and Richmond's voice cuts out.
Your first reaction is to groan. Your night just got longer - you're going to have to help contain the political fallout of the State of the Union getting cut midstream.
Thirty-five seconds later, your night gets even longer. That's one way to get a promotion is your incredible first reaction. And then all hell breaks loose.
The Capitol explodes, and Secret Service is flying through every room in the White House, rifles drawn and dogs sniffing, clearing all unnecessary personnel and checking for bombs. You take a minute to glance out the window that faces the Capitol building before going to find out what happened. You bid goodbye to your quiet night and welcome future's new history.
The new President - not-yet-President - the HUD Secretary, the one you were going to start replacing tomorrow, the one who was the designated survivor - is rushed into the White House. He looks fearful and confused, like everyone else in the building. No one speaks up, so you take charge. You usher the Secretary into the center of the room, next to the DC Apellate Judge who also looks frozen, and hand Mrs. - Kirkland? - you hand the Secretary's wife the Bible.
Turns out his name is Kirkman.
And as Thomas Adam Kirkman raises his hand to take the Oath of Office, you remember history again. Mindful of the future, you raise your phone to snap a few pictures. Someone has to record the moment for the textbooks.