Chapter Forty-Four

Wednesday's screamers were still Another Manitou! More Eek!, but reporting was decent. Even though it was only the second time one had come out, meet and greet, rapid conferences, working group of governors was familiar from Medicine Wolf, and practicality soothed, however they'd taken seriously big on board, with maps of the watershed. Appreciating my coercive courtesy (the NYT expanded its idea) to governors meant nuanced political thinking, turning eek! into ooh!, and so did analysing my backhander at National Committees with the nature of their self-fermented pickle in trying Columbia Basin exceptionalism when I had already (everyone presumed) known another manitou was about to turn their proposed seven-governor shard into a thirty-seven-governor megachunk. Of colour caused a wincing urk!, but heavyweights were recognising that my candidacy as a First Person meant our profound racial problems were firmly on the table.

The photo of Jesse was also working. Andrea hadn't held out for an exclusive and one fat fee, but sold at a multiplier of standard rates to almost everyone, and raked in a larger total that would have Caroline … I wasn't sure what, except richer. The image shared front pages of papers and websites alike with one of me touching Medicine Wolf, with commentary on Jesse, her decision, and what the photo really said. Christy and the divorce were mentioned, but not dwelt on, and the implicit warning widely recognised. Most of Jesse's CV being very not public domain, what little was made the running — surviving Cantrip, social media, and the impending intranet. More than one writer lauded her decision, though a handful accused me of using her.

Pretty much all media had tried to shunt their Sunday rebuke aside, but Jenny had nixed that by tallying costs of providing the mob at our gates with johns and other services, and wondering what would happen if we sued for reimbursement. That generated legal prevarications and bluster owners wanted out there, but arguing Adam and I should accept fouled verges, or that employers had no duty of care when asking employees to stand around in one place for days on end, was not so easy. Italy had clung to front pages by announcing the discovery among what I thought of as the Bonarata Papers of data about the creation of the Turin Shroud. The date in 1388 fitted radiocarbon results, and so did the context, because the hoaxer had been the Antipope Clement VII, hoping to bolster Avignon over Rome.

It killed time while I waited on Jesse, and so did calls. Washington and Oregon wanted to talk Friday, plus where their lawsuit was at, and Bran had news about European wolves being contacted by governments. Things were hotting up but not yet boiling over. The NPS were thrilled and horrified to discover what I wanted Gateway Park for, but St Louis PD with the Secret Service had security in hand. I'd put them in touch with Tom Yearman days back, and could now provide a list of manitou-greeters, adding Moira. I was in Adam's study, the senior Agent observing with interest as his colleague in St Louis scanned the list.

"People from all over the Mississippi Basin, Ms Hauptman?"

"Yup. Representatives of First and Second People in its territory."

"And Ms Keller?"

"White witch on standby." NPS and PD guys not in the loop made it awkward. "It's nothing to do with Ol' Manitou River, just heightened security since those shots were fired. There will be other magic users present, for the same reason."

"Huh." The PD captain gave me a look. "I noticed security numbers were high, Ms Hauptman, and wondered if that was about magic. We're all for better safe than sorry."

"So is my husband."

"I bet. Are Mr and Miss Hauptman also coming?"

"Adam, yes. Jesse, up in the air." Jesse felt she should be there, while it gave Adam more than hives, and neither had yet been able to override the other. I was keeping out of it while I could. "Either way, I and whoever comes will be carrying — we have Missouri licenses — and we'll go directly to Gateway Park by arch. When we head for WashU it'll be a motorcade. Then back here by arch."

The NPS guy was tickled. "By arch to the Arch, Ms Hauptman." He frowned. "Those arches show on TV don't they? Why is that when other magic doesn't?"

"Different sort of magic, sir. Fae glamour defeats cameras, unless something wants to be seen. The arches are many things, but not glamour. So yeah, you should be able to get a two-arch shot, but it has to be within a Secret Service perimeter, so decide where that's going to be and get me exact GPS co-ords with a photo. If you want all of your arch in shot, I assume that will mean somewhere back towards Memorial Drive. No odds, but I need that data."

When we rang off the Secret Service agent gave me an appraising look.

"A white witch, Ms Hauptman?"

"Lenka Yakovlevna won't turn to dust if shot. Witchcraft can reverse the change in a dead wolf."

"Ah." He hesitated. "I'm curious about you being so accommodating to the NPS."

"It doesn't matter to me where exactly we come out. And whatever happens in November I'll be leaning on them hard about bison migration."

"That's a priority?"

"Bison — the Elder Spirit — is still in bad shape from having four million children slaughtered. We need herds moving the way they should."

"Ouch." He shook his head. "As Ms Widepaw says, you're really not boring, Ms Hauptman. Back on track, everyone got the memo about the former Mrs Hauptman, and there are media on her today, but she's holed up." He shrugged. "You expect her to try something?"

"Chances are. She'll want a man, probably in Reno, but throwing herself at Adam or Jesse might come first."

"Is she a suicide risk?"

I sighed. "Yes, if her ego finally implodes, but I don't think it likely. Accidental OD is possible — I don't know of anything except liquor, but the Reno binges involve a ton of cocktails, and Darryl says she does way too much maintenance drinking. She's been on a down spiral for years, and sooner or later she'll crash and burn. Might be this time, because Jesse hit her with home truths, but I'd bet on her trying to forget she has a daughter and heading for Reno at least one more time. If the press stay on her it could get ugly fast, but what can we do?"

"Right. And the representatives you've invited — was that what you were doing Sunday?"

"Yup. First People and African Americans, mostly, who work the river."

"Huh. Which might be why the manitou's of colour?"

"Chicken, egg. And I'd have taken a ten-ton catfish before accepting a giant Anglo bestriding the Mississippi. Or a Dire Elk. Some kind of cross between Crazy Horse and Paul Robeson is not a bad deal."

I heard a muttered 'Really not boring.' as I headed for the kitchen, and he was with us again as everyone — including a chipper Coyote and Adam for once blowing off work — assembled for Jesse. The structure Jesse's, Jenna's, and Sally's schools had originally agreed was an extended Civic Affairs hour as last morning class, and with the many schools in Washington and Oregon that had joined Jesse would be going out to way more people than she could see on screen. PBS had provided one large screen with a mosaic of several hundred feeds, and a smaller one on which anyone asking a question could be shown. Classes had had fun deciding how they'd work it, with some random draws and votes on best question or debater. The chosen had to be willing to be broadcast, by intranet and otherwise, so there was nerve as well as kudos at stake, and schools were handling parental liaison with PBS. I'd asked Jesse if she wanted me there and she'd decided not, but rang a few minutes before the scheduled start looking as determined as terrified.

"Deep breaths, Jesse." Adam was as nervous for her as a long-tailed cat among rocking-chairs, but had his warmest smile showing. "Then go knock 'em all sideways."

"Your Graunts send blessings, Graught. Go make them even prouder."

"All of that, Jesse. And remember it's just doing what you do with more people watching and having your stomach mind its own. All set?"

/Yeah, just wigging out first. Thanks, everyone. I can do this. I wish it was easier to reread what you say before posting./

"Yup. But short pauses are OK, and you've always edited your mouth about stuff that matters. Don't fret it, Jesse."

/Not quite always, but yeah. Thanks, Mom, and sideways it is, Dad./

She rang off, and a moment later the feed kicked in. Principal Billings welcomed everyone, thanking participating schools, PBS and the states of Washington and Oregon for sponsorship, before saying drily it had always been an interesting privilege to have Jesse Hauptman among the student body, and more so with Medicine Wolf and my candidacy. This Civic Affairs hour had been Jesse's suggestion, and Billings was proud to invite her to begin. Jesse was pale, but there was a graceful set to her body as she rose and the camera zoomed in that had my spine relaxing.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Jesse Hauptman, and I imagine some of your prepared questions have been overtaken by Ol' Manitou River. Some of my prepared answers, too." She gave a wry smile. "But before we get to that, there are three things I need to address that set out contexts for why I suggested this class, and am really pleased to talk to you all."

She held up a hand, unfolding one finger.

"First, whatever anyone says, this is not partisan. Of course I want my Mom and Frank Lafferty to win. D'oh. And of course all the things they and others are doing, as part of their campaign or just because it needs doing, like manitous and SAGE, are going to come into it, because what else is any civics class supposed to be looking at just now? But I won't have a vote in November, neither will most of you, and what I think about that and would like everyone to do is in my social media. This is something else, and besides issues of preternatural rights and co-operation we have major questions about our democracy, because it has really not been working so well. And yes, that takes us back towards elections, so yes it's political, but still not partisan. I'd be grateful if teachers could do a session on that difference, because we're not so good at honouring it."

She unfurled a second finger.

"Next is something personal that connects. In doing this, I am forgoing my right as a minor to public anonymity, to a far greater degree than any of you asking questions, and two reasons are politically relevant. One is that, as my father's daughter, Mercy's step-daughter, Coyote's step-grand-daughter, I have seen exactly what persecuting the preternatural means, and while other preternaturals have sometimes been involved, the haters and killers have very largely been human. I do not and will not appropriate African-American experiences, or First People's experiences, that I cannot know, but this is a Civil Rights crisis all the same. And the other reason is that my public anonymity was pretty much down to not being photographed by mass media, because since Cantrip went pop I have not gone anywhere outside home without at least three bodyguards. They're with me in school and transit, and anywhere outside. A shopping trip is a grim exercise in logistics, so that's mostly out. My friends have to come to me if they don't want armed men in their homes. There's a reason I do so much by social media and so little, before now, in person. And after last week it's not three bodyguards, it's six plus Secret Service guys. I am very grateful to them all, but that they are necessary for a minor is an appalling indictment of our culture of violence and intolerance, and letting the two hang out and make nasty. It's also very expensive, for Dad and now for the federal government, which costs everyone."

A third finger.

"Which brings me to the last thing, also personal yet as public as it gets. I don't say this to boast, but for me being famous is not an option, nor anything I'd ever have chosen. It's just how it is. Cantrip took care of that, in their rotten selves and in throwing Mom into so much spotlight. But now I'm adding my face, stepping out as an adult with a sense of public obligation, there is something you all have an option about, which is how you behave towards me on screen and in person if we ever meet. A lot of us are into being fans, and I have a bunch on social media, but if that means the way most nothing celebrities and their fans behave, forget it. I'll keep my dignity, and you keep yours. Please hear me loud and clear on this. So with all that said, let's get down to Ol' Manitou River. Could there be any better news? Not in my book. But let's not forget Medicine Wolf's other, even unhappier neighbour, so I thought we might start with the problems of the Colorado."

And she was off, first-rate graphics, into the provenance of which I was not going to enquire, showing how the mighty river that carved the Grand Canyon no longer made it to the Gulf of California, dwindled by damming and extraction to a muddy trickle and dry, sandy bed. Water Wars were a context, but why had farmers and industries situated themselves where unlimited extraction was allowed, and how had that happened anyway? The farmers needed water, but did we need their crops, at that price, or could they be grown somewhere less costly? They had rights, and we had rights, but as the Colorado, like all major rivers, was right where topography, gravity, and geology said it should be, where were its rights? And would it take an angry, meaning massively destructive, great manitou to make us think harder about answers to those questions? So the problem was how most effectively to work on decision-makers to get real, fast enough to make a difference.

"For me that hasn't been so hard, because I pushed Mom to run, and Dad not to have a headfit at the idea. But no-one is doing this alone. So what can you do? Can we do? None of us live in the Colorado Basin, far as I know, so we come to it from outside. What can we research that the media aren't? What do we see that they don't? What ideas do we have? And who can we pressurise, politely, to shape up? Who are the key decision-makers, and can we get to their inboxes? Or their kids? That's tricky, because ethics, minors, but if those kids are worried — and which of us isn't, however we play it cool? — they deserve to know they're not alone, and if they're in a position to bend adult ears that matter, they should. Plus, state and federal legislators' emails are in the public domain, and we know they really don't like being told if you continue to give x a pass, I will never vote for you or anyone of your party. Two or three thousand of you are hearing me now, and you all have a dozen friends or kin who aren't, and they have the same. If we want to, we can put tens or hundreds of thousands of You've Got Bad News emails into any number of Colorado Basin inboxes. We shouldn't ever do it lightly, and our facts need to be rock-hard and spot-on. So what do we want to do about the Colorado and its unhappy great manitou? Please all do some hard thinking, and next week we'll revisit it. For today, I expect there are questions about Ol' Manitou River I'll do my best to answer, warning everyone that security trumps curiosity every time. So ask away. Ms Ligatt?"

Penny fed questions up. There were good basics to start — what were manitous, exactly? and (from a studious boy in a younger class) what had I meant about vertical fall and volume? — but after a quarter-hour, and a sideways jag into Show Boat ended by Jesse's tart observation that when everyone had seen the film they could come back to it, Penny put up Edna Phillips of Klamath Falls — thirteen, quite dark-complected but, I thought, mixed-race, and from the sound of it the high achiever in her family.

"Miss Hauptman, I don't want to be negative, but I have a question about ordinary working people not being left in what your mom called the green lurch. My dad says politicians always promise to look after people, but never do. And while I think your mom is sincere, I find that hard to deny. How can I best argue she deserves her chance when my dad's already so … cynical, and I can't say wrongly?"

Jesse gave a double thumbs-up. "Excellent question. And Jesse's fine, please, Edna. First, your dad's right. Politicians lie all the time, routinely. They also do something more complicated, which is promise in good faith to try, and do, despite knowing it's at best a marginal chance. But second, there are ways. One issue is timing. Typically, now, what we get is, yo, this needs doing, and yeah, it does you down. Sorry and all that, but needs must. Just let us get to it and we'll see to you tomorrow — but tomorrow never comes. Typical human perfidy. But we can work to cut the time lag and defaulting. Take the Columbia Restoration, with the dam demolitions. People worked at those dams, and suddenly they're gone. What do people do? They're not on their own, and being as south as Klamath Falls your dad might not have picked up on that. We can't let electricity generation from hydropower drop too much, so new smaller turbines are going in as big old ones come out. Job transfer, and though they have to be more mobile employees don't have to move house. There's a big net gain in profits, too, so early retirements can be offered. There will be leftover people, but a coalition of Basin employers, in all sectors, has been primed to make preferential offers where they can. Is there disruption? You bet. But is everything that can be done to help being done? So far as I know, yes, and seriously."

Jesse sat back, hands gesturing.

"It has to work differently in different places. If you buy arid land near the Lower Colorado, do you have the right to demand a big chunk of its dwindling water so you can make a profit on a farm that wouldn't otherwise be viable? Or put harshly, are there people who deserve to take a loss, even if their kids don't deserve the poverty? Then scaling up, if we, collectively, need to reduce the livelihoods of farmers on the Lower Colorado, what do we need to stump up to make that ethically acceptable? What matters to your dad's question, Edna, is that if we build answers into solutions, so the green lurch is always accounted for, we can minimise bad faith where job mobility, retraining, redeployment, and relocation can offer workable and fair answers."

Jesse's hands waggled eloquently.

"But differently, different places. Let's take Big Corn in Iowa. What's the problem? They want to grow corn at yields per acre that demand very heavy fertilisation with nitrates, which corn needs. The nitrates wash out into rivers, and concentrate as they go downstream, meaning they poison the whole rivercourse and several hundred square miles of the Gulf of Mexico. Not good at all. But why does Big Corn need to grow so much on land that can't do it unless it's nitrate-fertilised up the wazoo? Well, they gotta maximise profit, right? And there's righteous demand that has to be met, yeah? Except, no, because Big Corn cooked all those books to say what they wanted. I know most of us were still crawling or not born, but back in the mid-2000s Congress decided an eco-gesture was in order and passed a law saying we need millions of tons of renewable bio-fuels every year, so we can keep driving cars without using fossil fuels. They specified that biofuel as corn ethanol." Jesse's voice acquired some edge. "Big green points? Not hardly. The automakers sponsored it because it put off any need to face real change. You still put biofuel in the tank via the same infrastructure, so it's the cheapest green-sounding mini-shift. And Big Corn sponsored it because it meant a legal demand for more and more corn. Which meant more nitrates, which wash out and down, and kill things, but did they care? Hell no, we're being green. Not. So what does good faith about not being left in the green lurch there mean?"

She sat back again, shrugging.

"We have to start from a new perspective, with new questions. The demand for Big Corn is artificial. They schemed to make jobs and profits dependent on very intensive chemical farming. The costs of pollution are simply discounted. So. Iowan farmers and their land cannot move, and it's good land even before they add all the fertiliser. What can they grow, without ten million tons of extra nitrates? How do we make that crop pay them enough to live adequately? Will there be problems and some who lose out whatever we try? No way round it. But, if we think positively from the get-go about how to minimise human cost, link rebuilding to demolishing, new growing industries to old declining ones, opportunity to loss, we can minimise unfairness and maximise planetary survival. So the question to ask your dad, Edna, is if he's giving up on your children, his grandchildren, or if he'll go to bat for the best plan we can cook up together? If he's lost hope, is he settling for you being without it too? Or is being cynical a way of justifying being lazy? I don't know your dad, Edna, so I can't say, but anyone who thinks what's happening on the Columbia is any kind of business-as-usual has their head somewhere they shouldn't. And as I want to say something about that sort of situation, and don't mean to imply anything about your dad or anyone in particular, I'm going to end the direct reply with thanks for asking a good one."

The questioner-screen blanked, and I felt Adam tense, wondering how far Jesse might go after yesterday.

"I expect quite a few of us know about this one, because we have a parent, older sibling, or step-whatever who is the equivalent of blind drunk on something. Could be liquor, some drug, or an ideology, a mindset to choose violence or tolerate it, to embrace and promote hatred of some other. Race, creed, gender, orientation, magic, disability. Doesn't matter, they all mean there is something about which you have a serious problem with a loved one. You care about it, so it matters, and it's not only a problem for you, it's a family or community problem as well. And it's now our problem, because in my book a parent over eighteen has a duty to vote, with a clear head. I'm not saying how they should vote, only that they should vote responsibly, and minors who don't have votes but are aware of the ecological and democratic crises we're in have the right, I'd say duty, to ask sensible questions of voting parents or guardians. So if one of those is refusing to engage seriously, or can't, what can we do? We'll revisit this, but I've set up hashtags that are distinct from campaign ones, and have advice. #SelfPoisoningOthers for substance abuse. #TheyHurtOthers for violence. #DinosaursAndOstriches for the clueless with heads in the sand. And a website, www . VotingMinors . org has details of medical, psychiatric, social, educational, and other support groups that can help kids in that unhappy position with a loved one. So while I know how full the syllabus is, I'm still asking teachers to add a session looking at that, to make sure everyone understands what resources and protections are available for the asking. And yeah, I know they don't always work, and Bad Stuff happens, but if you know who and how to ask for help the chances of a better outcome are way higher than if you don't. Go figure." She checked her phone. "There's time for one or two more questions."

In the event it was one, because Penny put up Brian Mitchell, an Anglo kid of maybe ten who lived in Pasco and was a Beltane boy, so he'd been awake with pre-birthday excitement last Wednesday night. He was trying to be responsible, but he'd seen what he'd seen.

"I understand about the FBI investigation, and keeping it secret until, Miss Hauptman, and I realise there must be magic secrets you can't talk about, but is there anything you can tell us? The light was so thick and golden at first, so beautiful when it went hazier. Seeing it made me feel really happy, but I don't know why."

Jesse held up a hand with a smile. "You are right about security, Brian, and the FBI with what they call sub judice, matters still under investigation. And about secrets, magical and otherwise. But I can address the beauty and your sense of happiness in two phrases, birthday boy and good magic. The event came after midnight so it was your birthday and you got an early present. I can't affirm it, but that may have played in because birthdays have some magical kick. And not all magic is good. It can be intrinsically bad, like black witchcraft, or used badly, like guns. But it can also be used to good and beneficial ends, and the end last Wednesday was keeping my family safe. I don't think it's partisan to call that a good end. And most of what we think beautiful involves sight, which photons make possible. So when you saw strong magic involving sunlight at a very unexpected time you saw the sublime, something too big to take in, so it confuses you and it's awesome. And because it was good magic, used rightly, you picked that up, maybe with a birthday or Mayday boost. I'd expect you to feel some happy confusion. But I'm afraid you're going to have to wait, maybe a long time, for info on anything else that may or may not have gone down. And I can't say I'm sorry about that, because I'm not. It's how security is — and it's not for me to decide it's OK to tell everyone this or that harmless titbit, because harmless says who? Magical defences, and offences, can be major-league weird, as the laws of physics are usually not in local force, and though in fiction magical objects tend to be convenient, real ones can be more like a twig or a floating mote of dust. You never know with magic. But most humans can tell whether it's good or bad, and you did, so you have a really happy memory to cradle and build on. And that's it for today, if I'm to give Ms Billings the two minutes to close she asked for. Ms Billings?"

The questioner-screen blanked as Billings came forward.

"Thank you, Jesse, and not just for some smooth timing. And I think I need to talk to your mom and dad about a contract, because if I'm ever stuck for a Civic Affairs substitute teacher I know whom I'm asking first." There was loud agreement. "Exactly. Wasn't that astonishing? I'll guarantee every teacher listening learned a great deal, and very few necessarily political discussions held during an election campaign have ever been less partisan. Jesse was spot-on about that, as well as everything else. So we all have thinking to do, as teachers and students should. Thanks again, Jesse, for an impressive and productive hour, and we all look forward to doing it again next week. Go safely, everyone."

Penny reminded people of hashtags and website, with a graphic overlay, and urged anyone who'd felt timid about asking a question to think again now they'd seen how it worked. The feed blanked, and Adam and I looked at one another, bond thrumming with pride and unavoidable concern.

"She nailed it."

"Oh yeah. Distribution. And St Louis."

"Yes to the first, if she's willing. That deserves the biggest audience. The other …"

"I know, love. But so does she. Where's the line?"

Adam sighed. "I don't know. Or I do, but I dislike it enough to be squinting in the wrong direction."

The phone rang, and Jesse came on screen with a beaming Penny, her phone held up, and Billings behind them, looking relieved and excited, as well she might. If the Board of Governors weren't all doing a triumphant shimmy or two they were stupider than I thought.

"Hey Mom, Dad. Was it OK? Penny thinks so."

"It was brilliant, Jesse. You want to use more than ten minutes, Penny?"

"I want to broadcast it all, Adam, if you're willing, and so does PBS. We weren't sure quite what we'd be dealing with, and we'll go week by week, but that was a TV hit in waiting."

"Yeah. You nailed it out of the park, Jesse, and we're seriously proud. Are you sure you're good with nationwide live? In realtime, Penny?"

"We'll lag it enough to hit pause if needed."

"OK. Jesse?"

"Probably, Dad. But. Mom?"

"No-brainer, Jesse. You aced it, and the more the merrier unless you really think awareness of three or thirty million is going to bother you way more than awareness of three thousand. If so, up the lag. Live to students is a big point, but there's nothing to say PBS can't network it Wednesday night, or Thursday. Time to edit anything that bugged you."

Jesse gave me a look. "You thought the mouth-editing was OK?"

I knew she was asking about the twig and dustmote. "It was fine."

"Good. And by you, Gramps?"

"You bet, Graught. We've had enough lone elk stampedes, apparently, but you pulled a really superior pressgang of one."

Jesse grinned. "If you say so, Gramps, it must be true." Coyote snorted, and so did Adam. "Then actually, Mom, I dunno that millions over thousands would bother me much, though the resulting celebrity does. Doing something dim in front of my closest friends and whatever thousand immediate peers is already safety-critical."

"Right. After the mid-two-figures numbers are just numbers. But there is the celebrity, and fruitcakes. Not so big a problem while you're inside our or federal security, but as to when you might be outside either, forget it, because the answer's long-term to never. Then again, if it happens, First Daughter will make it never anyway, so I think you're past that decision-point. You're walking the walk, Jesse, and very well, so just keep on keeping on."

"I know. It's just trigger-freeze. Alright, Ms Ligatt. I'll sign. Dad?"

"Yeah. You want to transmit this one right away, Penny?"

She spoke to her phone. "Producers like this evening, Adam, on a rolling 6–7 slot."

"OK. I'll sign and send paperwork. Anything to add, Principal?"

"Only that I am again impressed by how you and Ms Hauptman handle big things with Jesse, and my thanks to you all for making today possible. It makes me feel the school is really playing a part in this idea of the Pacific North-West leading by example. But I dare say we'll need to implement some of the more expensive security upgrades you've asked us to think about. I will push that with the Board."

"There's the scenting thing, too, Ms Billings, remember? We could trial that with some Freed, and bring in Mr Arocha to talk dogs. And I've always been going to do gun control some week, because SAGE and post-Parkland." Billings nodded, warily. "So we could come to it through student safety. Big costs and worries for you, same for students. How do we lower those while raising the effectiveness of campus security? What's practical with magic, technology, or canid noses, or isn't? Yes?"

"Certainly, Jesse. That sounds like another excellent class. I think the, ah, dogs or wolves would have to be inside, though. We can't do locations live."

"Not a problem, Ms Billings. Jesse, you'll want someone from KPD. Police approval of campus security matters, and they have scent-dogs. Talk to Tony or Clay?"

"Will do, Mom. Thanks. And … Huh."

"What?"

"This adult Getting Things Done is heady stuff. How do you not get drunk on it?"

"Who says I don't?"