The Testimony

BANGING ON DIALS

Andrew Brubaker, White House Chief of Staff, Washington, DC

We had lost control. I don’t think it needs saying, not now, but back then we could have done with being told, because we thought that we were holding it together. We thought that, even though the people – protestors, religious, ill, dead – were huge in number, we still had authority, and we could wrench anything back if it slipped out of control. But then, everything moved so quickly.

Ed Meany, research and development scientist, Virginia

The body-count kept getting higher and higher, and we only had one explanation for why people were dying: they weren’t getting better. Every injury, illness, sickness, disease, all of them suddenly became fatal, no matter whether they had been to start with. The common cold became the flu became pneumonia in a matter of hours, and it spread like colds did. It was quick. If you were near somebody who had it, you had a better chance of catching it than not. I argued blind with the other guys in the labs about this, saying that it was a proper epidemic, worse than any we’d seen before; if you had no way to fight off a cold, there was no way you weren’t catching it. Everybody had low T-cell counts, like, bottom-of-the-scale low. If I was a TV doctor, I would make a leap to a conclusion: I’m sorry, miss, but your immune system has shut down, collapsed even, and you have weeks to live. But it was a theory, still, because we didn’t have a reason, a cause, a way to explain why it was happening and how we might go about stopping it.

So I started taking medication, just in case. There were so many corpses in the labs, and we had masks and suits but still, couldn’t hurt, I figured. I took the stuff they give to HIV patients, designed to boost their immune systems to stop them getting ill, stuff that fakes what your body should naturally be making. It seemed sensible, so I guzzled them. Work was pointless: everything just felt like we were turning valves or banging on dials for the sake of it.

Sam Tate called me later that afternoon, just to chat, he said, because he was so stressed, but there was something else. Have you found out what caused it yet? he asked, and I said that I didn’t have a clue. It’s completely untraceable? Completely, I said; if somebody did make this, they were fucking brilliant. I mean, it’s like nothing that exists, Sam. He told me that he was at a silo – didn’t say which one, and I didn’t ask. Do you think they’re going to launch something? I asked, and he said that he didn’t know. I don’t know how people can stand being responsible for that much damage, he said.

Tom Gibson, news anchor, New York City

We had people on the streets with cameras filming stock footage, and they were there when it all turned nasty. There was one group in New York who were protesting against the government, been there for days, camping out, unstructured, disorganized, pissed off; and another group of pro-God people, praying for their Lord to return, telling people to pray so that God would come back and save us all. They clashed by Central Park; it began with sloganeering, shouting words across at the other group, and then somebody said something that went too far and they sprang. They were like cats; a noise spooked them, and they leaped. They leaped toward each other, and that made it all turn nasty.

Mark Kirkman, unemployed, Boston

It spread across the US like a rash. I know that’s a cliché, but it’s what it was, and it itched, and people scratched it, because they were frustrated and wanted answers. The Jessops and I moved into a motel off the highway, and we ate food from the machine and tried to keep our heads down, because we didn’t want any trouble. I had a telephone number given to me by the producers of The Role Call, sent in by somebody in the UK, and I called her from the phone in the room, premium rate. I can’t talk for long, I said, but I just wanted to let you know that you weren’t alone. Oh, I know I’m not, she said – her name was Ally, and she was Scottish, and I could barely understand her because of her accent, at first, but I got used to it – because I’ve got a visitor here from your neck of the woods, and she didn’t hear The Broadcast either. Another one, I said, that’s great. Aye, she said, and then there were four.

Ally Weyland, lawyer, Edinburgh

We agreed that he would call us every time they moved, let us know that they were alright. I don’t know why we did that, because now, thinking about it, that sounds a bit crazy, checking up on these people we didn’t know at all; but if there were only four of us in the whole world, we really should keep in touch, that was the logic. Katy still hadn’t called home, and I hadn’t told her what her mother said, so it sort of hung around the flat, stinking the place up while we didn’t talk about it. But I could see her worrying about it, when we watched the news. When the riot-fight in New York happened, between the Christians and the whatever-they-weres, she worried then. And then the bombs; they made her worry even more. I mean, Christ, they made me shit my knickers, so God knows what they did to Katy.

Simon Dabnall, Member of Parliament, London

I couldn’t find my tablets – at least, I couldn’t find the open ones, still had a drawer of the damn things at home, but I am the sort of man who requires order amongst the chaos. In this instance, order meant using the currently open bottle, so I decided that I would head back to the office and collect them. They hadn’t taken back my keys, so I knew that I wouldn’t have an issue getting in. I parked on double-yellows – I was fairly certain that traffic wardens weren’t being vigilant about parking violations at that point – and went in, got the bottle from my desk, and when I left, I realized that I had nothing to do. A sensible man would head home, pick up his life; I, on the other hand, decided to revisit the scene of the crime. I walked through the city again, towards Parliament. I didn’t know what I wanted to find there, what I was hoping to get from my visit; there was a chance of seeing somebody that I knew, certainly, and a chance of seeing reporters, which might be fun. But, really, I was doing it because… Whingey Americans would call it closure, I suppose. He needed closure. I made it to the shadow of Big Ben, but couldn’t bring myself to go in. Instead I sat on a bench at the edge of the river, and I found myself shaking, slightly. Not ill; just nervous.

Tom Gibson, news anchor, New York City

When the video came through – same way as the others, posted in New York City, nothing else to give it away – we aired it without watching it. That was irresponsible, but it had already been shown on CNN, and we were still worrying about ratings, about market share. It was the same man in the same cave, and he told us about his operatives. We have weakened you, he said, brought you to your knees. Now, we will execute you, he said. This will be your only warning. There wasn’t anything about what the warning was for, or what was going to happen, to give us a chance to prevent it. It wasn’t a warning: it was a boast. After this, you will know who is right and who is wrong, the man said, and then we heard an explosion, and we saw the smoke throwing itself into the sky.

Ally Weyland, lawyer, Edinburgh

We saw the news about the Statue of Liberty as soon as it happened, I reckon. That was one of those Holy shit! moments, where you really get the chills, when somebody does something awful. It wasn’t awful like the bombing of that school had been, because it didn’t actually hurt anybody, best we knew; but it was an institution, you know? Everybody got that, how much they loved that bloody statue.

Tom Gibson, news anchor, New York City

Lady Liberty didn’t actually fall all the way: she slumped. Nobody was inside; the closure of public services meant that she had been shut for days. All this, said the FBI guys, was symbolic. You get that, right? We asked whether we shouldn’t tell people to evacuate the city, because if there were more bombs, it would be safer. It causes panic if we flood the streets now, they said. We’ll get the dogs. They cleared the area as fast as they could and we watched them tear in with their tanks and vans and dogs and start prowling the streets around the river, then running off in every direction from there, going to every nook and cranny. When they got back from the statue site a few hours later they sat us down to fill us in. The charges that had been placed were shabby, they said, half-assed, the sort of thing that looked thrown together. It was a professional job, the bomb guy told us, but it wasn’t exactly super-terrorist stuff. It’s nothing to seriously worry about, they said. Jesus.

Andrew Brubaker, White House Chief of Staff, Washington, DC

The Vice President of the United States was who we had. They always say, you can never pick your running mate; the people do it for you. You, the would-be President, are always going to have holes in your campaign, and you plug those holes with somebody who might make sense. They might be able to persuade you another way on a topic of discussion, they might have a solid military mind when you have none, they might be a mathematician when you have no head for numbers; but they’re the other side of the coin. You run for office and you take somebody who might get you votes on the other side, because they’re the way you win the majority. Most of one, some of the other. The VP and POTUS weren’t friends – I don’t remember ever seeing them together before we threw the VP’s name into the hat on the trail – and they didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on the issues. The VP was on record as being pro-war during the Iraqi invasion, anti-abortion, pro-armament. He was an ex-soldier, three tours, and he was religious, super-, super-religious. He was, in terms of our administration, our plans for the future of the US, a liability, but that’s what POTUS had needed on the ticket to win over some of the red states. He was closer to the red side of the fence, but that was what it took. I knew we’d be at war – a real war, not what it had been for the last fifteen years, not sitting in places holding your guns up in case somebody took a cell-phone out of their pants at the wrong time; a war where we would attack somebody to get some sort of resolution. We got back into the building a few hours after his induction, with the protestors cleared out, the army making walls around the building. The Vice President sat in the Oval Office, with its broken windows and fire-damaged carpets, and we waited for him to make his move. I was there, but in a purely advisory capacity. The President had wanted my counsel on everything, my experience. This guy? He looked like he’d sooner charge in himself than sit back and listen to a liberal. We watched what was happening in New York and we waited. We have to catch these people, sir, I said. He waved me away. You’ll see; the army’ll deal with them, he said. And then Russian Hill happened.

Tom Gibson, news anchor, New York City

The video of that was emailed to us seconds after it happened, and we had it straight on the air, because it felt important. That’s what news is, most of the time: what feels important. It’s famous now: the clip of the shop-owner being dragged out of his shop, through the doors, the men kicking the doors off their hinges, then throwing him down as they set fire to the shop, throwing the petrol in through the windows, and making him watch as it burned. The one that started beating the crap out of the shopkeeper got arrested, I think, but the others got away with it. And the guy with the cell-phone who was filming it wasn’t anything to do with the attack, but he didn’t step in. He didn’t exactly Hoo-rah when they did, but we still had emails from people saying he was complicit.

Andrew Brubaker, White House Chief of Staff, Washington, DC

Either the police didn’t step in, and let that man get kicked to death on the street, or they didn’t get to the scene on time. They claimed the latter, but the footage showed a parked police car up the road, and there was so much noise they’d have definitely heard it, but they didn’t do anything.

Tom Gibson, news anchor, New York City

I have – I had – a reputation, as being mercenary. I didn’t like it, but that was the news. That’s what it took. We got a report about the reported numbers of dead in the past twenty-four hours only a couple of minutes after the Russian Hill story played out, and I decided to not air them. I got one of the junior reporters to take over the broadcast and I phoned all the syndicates, got some of the runners and assistants to call all the other networks. That was the pull I had; direct phone lines. We all agreed to sit on the information until we had it confirmed; let the White House announce it, take the brunt. People shot the messenger, and we would be delivering the worst news possible.

Joseph Jessop, farmer, Colorado City

They showed the video on the television, the normal, daytime television. The man hosting the show said, This features some graphic images that viewers might find disturbing, and they showed the man being kicked. We had to cover Joe’s eyes from that, then we switched the set off, went for a walk. Jennifer was sniffling, starting to get a cold, and I had seen on the television so many people who were ill from it, so I remembered how we used to fight colds back in Colorado City: you get out, you exercise, you work that cold away. It was a lovely sunny day, beautiful weather. When we got back, we saw that the government had announced an enforced curfew. We knocked on Mark’s door, asked if he was watching, and he was. He looked so angry. When it’s enforced, it’s frighteningly close to martial law, he said, and I told him that I didn’t know much about that. I kept thinking about that poor man in San Francisco. It’ll keep people safe, though, I said. You want to come for food with us? I asked, and he agreed, but made sure when we got to the restaurant downstairs that he didn’t sit next to Jennifer. Turned out they weren’t serving food anyway, so we took some microwave mac and cheese from the shop and cooked it in our rooms, ate it off the saucers they’d put next to the coffee maker.

Andrew Brubaker, White House Chief of Staff, Washington, DC

The decision to impose the curfew wasn’t made with my consultation. I turned my back and next thing I know, people are being told to stay indoors unless there was an emergency. The Vice President’s press release mentioned that it would be enforced, if it needed to be; the press piled onto me when I walked past the bullpen, and asked me what that meant. I don’t have a clue, I said, I’ll tell you when he tells me.

Well, that was the wrong thing to say to anybody without the words Off the record in front of it; it was on the blogs within minutes, and that effectively shut me out of the Oval Office.

We’re doing this to protect our nation, whatever their creed or colour; we’re doing this to protect the world. There are terrorists and infidels and those who would see you come to harm, and we’re facing the hardest time that we’ve ever seen. People are sick, people are dying, and the only way that we can keep you safe is by keeping those you love close to you. Stay in your homes, and we’ll keep you updated. I watched him deliver the speech live, then asked for a few minutes. You can have one, he said, and I told him that I could be invaluable, that I had a lot to offer. No offence, he said, but what you’ve got to offer is what got us into this mess. Our God spoke to us, that was no accident, but you were too dainty in your response. If some Jihad-following rag-heads rally against Him, against His name? You don’t fuck around with tactical strikes, son; you wipe those assholes out. He left me for a meeting with the heads of all the military divisions, the joint chiefs, some scientists, researchers from our missile programme, and I knew that this was going to get exponentially worse before it stood any chance of getting better.

Phil Gossard, sales executive, London

Jess was on the phone constantly, all morning, all through the afternoon. Her friends had heard all this gossip about the nuns from their school, how they’d gone on a pilgrimage or something, and they all found that hilarious. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing; she’d hang up, it would ring again. My hand was buzzing. I kept holding it under cold water, because it made it less painful, made it seem slightly less swollen. On the news they kept talking about infections being fatal, about stuff maybe being in the air. If you have an open wound, the doctors on the news said, keep it clean, disinfected, wrap it in disinfected materials. I didn’t have an open wound – apart from where the skin was starting to crack along the line of the fingernails, pushing them up, making them sensitive to touch – but I remembered when I was a child, on holiday with my parents, and I broke my foot. To get around the cast and let me go in the pool, my Dad put a condom around my entire foot to make it watertight.

Karen managed to phone in between Jess’ frantic, giggling conversations, and I told her about my hand, underplayed it. It’s just a bruise, I said. You should have let me check out the bone, she said, there’s nothing I can do now. No, I told her, it’s fine. She said that they had her in one of those suits, like she was working on the space station or something. They want to prevent us getting sick, she said, but I’ve got a bit of a cold, I think. My throat is sore. She sounded nervous, and I was nervous for her, but we didn’t say it. Stay positive, I said; that was my concession. I am, she told me. As soon as she hung up I called my mum, because I had the chance to, and she answered in floods of tears, and I knew. I just knew.