America 1982-Chapter 654 - 1: Standard Operations
Years later.
In Montauk, a small town on Long Island, New York, there was a Victorian-style villa.
An old, frail white man lay on a lounger in the garden, basking in the afternoon sun while servants and a family doctor stood by, ready to adjust the angle of the sunshade to prevent the sunlight from being too strong or too weak.
In front of the French windows in the living room, the old man’s family looked on sadly. They faced the old man’s back as he made an effort to chat and laugh with a guest who had come to visit specifically.
"Ben, I remember you’re only about five years older than my dad Colin. I mean, you should consider my suggestion and take up permanent residence in the Stanford Medical Research Center in California. The Stanford Medical Research Center branch in Newport, Rhode Island, isn’t bad either. They’re making progress with their research, and at least under their care, my dad is doing great. Two years ago, they replaced his liver, and because of the donation, he got to enjoy privileges like skipping the waitlist and choosing a better organ source," said Tommy, wearing a beige, stylish suit, his hair already silvered by time, now a sixty-year-old fella, as he reached out a hand and gently patted Benjamin Benson’s palm that rested on the back of the chair, asking in a gentle voice:
"Now he still drinks every day and then robustly curses me out, calling me scum. The doctors say he could live to a hundred with a few more exchanges. I reckon your lungs could do with a change too. Africa is so vast; there must be many black people willing or unwilling to donate their lungs to you. Anyway, it hasn’t spread to the brain. Replace whatever is problematic."
The aging Benjamin Benson showed a smile on his face and gently shook his head, "I know my own condition, Tommy. Rather than living in those places, I’d prefer to spend the last moment of my life at home. I’ve been busy with business, finance, charity, computing, the internet, artificial intelligence, even weapons, banks, the Federal Reserve... Now I can finally stop. I have plenty of time to spend with my family every day, and it feels very good. I can see the grass on the lawn changing every day, the flowers gradually blooming. Time has finally slowed down, as slow as an old man like me, hehehe... By the way, I still watch the latest season of your company’s fantasy history drama series ’C.S.A’ every week on schedule. Can you give me a hint about whether the Confederate States of America’s racial investigation bureau gets successfully infiltrated and taken over by whites who sympathize with the slaves... and those black terrorists planning to sabotage the Olympic Games for slaves... Confederate racial investigation bureau, American Olympic Games for slaves, that is quite something. How did you come up with these race-discriminating national institutions?"
"Ben, it’s not that I insist on taking you away; I’m just here to visit you. I honestly remember I always used to call you the old guy, but I hope you understand I have always seen you as my mentor. Without you, maybe I could have done nothing." Tommy heard Benjamin refuse the proposal to recuperate at the medical center and tried to divert from the topic to end the discussion. He didn’t persist, instead accompanying the old man, reminiscing about the past:
"Even though you’ve been retired for a long time and haven’t talked to me in ages, I always feel like I have an ace up my sleeve as long as you haven’t actually met God. When faced with a desperate situation, I can stay calm because I know there’s an old guy who will give me the right guidance whenever I seek him out. You feel like time has finally slowed down, while I feel like time is the fastest gun in the world. Every time you hear a gunshot, it means an era has ended. For the person shot, it doesn’t matter; they no longer fear the bullets of time. But for the friends of the one shot, it’s tough to handle."
"Who isn’t struck by time’s bullets, Tommy?" Benjamin turned his face to smile at Tommy, lifting his palm to press Tommy’s hand underneath and gently pat it: "Nothing matters, life is like a record, and when the final notes play, you should know it’s about to end. So, why not enjoy the last song while the needle’s still working?"
Tommy looked back at the old man and smiled, "You might as well use this time to write for Ted’s newspapers. That sentimental talk just now should appeal to a lot of young people."
"Thank you for visiting me before my needle stops working. This should be our last meeting. I mean, I won’t notify friends outside the family for the funeral, just a simple obituary in the newspaper. Don’t let us see you kids we’ve dealt with for so many years anymore. I’m not joking." Benjamin said, a bit tired. He squeezed Tommy’s hand firmly, said his piece, and then slowly closed his eyes to rest.
The attending doctor immediately stepped forward to check his condition, while Tommy stood up, took out the sunglasses from his suit pocket, and put them on his face. He turned to look at Benjamin’s family behind the French windows, gave a slight bow, and then walked directly through the garden towards the outside.
A low-key black Chevrolet van was parked outside Benjamin’s house. As the driver saw Tommy stepping out, he opened the door, and Tommy sat in the back seat. He turned to take one last look at the mansion, then rested his head against the seat back, closed his eyes, and with his left hand clenched into a fist, tapped his chest lightly, muttering to himself the words Benjamin first said to him when they met:
"Tommy, whatever the business, when you feel tempted, remember your original goal. It’s sure to be more important to you than any temptation. Recall it, let it guide your heart back to the beginning."
After saying this, Tommy exhaled slowly, calming his emotions, and told the driver, "Let’s go."
After starting the car, the driver said to Tommy in the back seat, "Sir, a call came in for you while you were visiting your friend. It was your son Hilbert—he wanted to remind you not to forget his coming-of-age party tonight. If I remember correctly, Hilbert told me on the phone that his party starts at six o’clock tonight in California, Los Angeles, in the American Southwest, and it’s already four... seventeen in the afternoon. We’re still in New York, in the American Northeast."
Tommy reined in his melancholy, thought for a moment, then said to the driver in a bit of a daze, "Shit—why does my stupid son always have the habit of reminding us on the day of? Why couldn’t he let us know the day before? I always knew one day I’d regret having a child, because it’s inevitable that a child would inherit Odelia’s simplicity and kindness. Clearly, Hilbert is that unlucky one; he’s as naïve as his mother was back then, always thinking everyone should be as carefree as him."
"Three months ago, a month ago, even a week ago, he called, and you gave him the brush-off, promising that you’d be there on time. If there’s a court session, I’m willing to testify for Hilbert," the driver said through the rearview mirror, smiling at Tommy.
Tommy waved his hand impatiently, "There’s no way I could listen to my own son talk about physics, which nearly puts me to sleep, and still remember whether he reminded me to attend his party in the middle of it! I’m not Einstein! I hate physics! Especially after Hilbert refused to attend Stanford and chose the Massachusetts Institute of Technology! He should know how much I detest those four-eyed professors who come out of MIT! Those guys are greedy vampires! The money I’ve spent to hire them for my work could’ve built another university!"
"Sir, I think Hilbert is really outstanding, well-mannered, a gentleman, kind..." the driver offered his opinion on Hilbert.
Tommy, dissatisfied, reminded the driver, "John Page, do you know what the biggest difference is between you and your grandfather?"
"I guess you’re about to say, ’Little Page, when your grandfather worked as my bodyguard, he never talked too much, Mr. Tommy,’" the driver clearly didn’t mind Tommy’s dissatisfaction and laughed even louder. "Right, I’ve arranged for your private plane to come to the nearest Long Island airport as soon as possible, so we can save time. We can take off from the local airport, the flight will be five hours, but fortunately, California and New York have a three-hour time difference. We take off at 4:30 p.m. Eastern Time, and after flying for five hours, we can land at 6:30 p.m. Pacific Time. Deducting the time to rush to the Eagle’s Nest, we will be at most forty to seventy minutes late and can participate in most of the party, but you won’t be able to meet with your ex-wife, Odelia-Justice Farrell, who’s considering remarrying you and has just forgiven you. She can only attend the party for the first thirty minutes before rushing back to Washington."
"Hey~ darling," Tommy called his ex-wife’s number, "John just told me that tonight, you can only stay for thirty minutes at our son’s most important 18th birthday party? That’s even shorter than the statements you give to the defendants in court."
On the other side of the phone, Odelia said, "Tommy, I just left Los Angeles Airport, John’s right, I can only stay at the party for thirty minutes. However, if you think that being with our son is more important, I’d be happy to stay and miss another meeting tonight, which is an informal internal discussion involving the Supreme Court of America about certain matters concerning the defense industry."
"You know, kids don’t need to celebrate becoming adults with such a big, costly fuss. Go about your work, dear, let everyone understand the importance of the defense industry to America. We’ve been so low-key, developing all sorts of high-tech to defend this great nation, so why do they always feel as though the Pentagon and contractors like us are just wasting money? Without the equipment we make, would we expect soldiers to use their teeth against the enemy?" Upon hearing Odelia’s reason for possibly missing the party, Tommy immediately took the high ground, supporting his ex-wife’s work, as if his son’s party was nothing worth mentioning.
"How long until you arrive? There are some more important issues I think we can discuss in person."
"What’s more important than what you just mentioned?"
"Our wedding, Tommy. One of the conditions I agreed to in remarrying you included one very special detail, that you owe me one wedding ceremony."
Tommy immediately agreed, "Of course, the details of the wedding need to be discussed between us two alone, slowly, it’s our romance. Our three children have no right to get involved."
Odelia hung up the phone, and Tommy leaned back in his seat, "Can you believe it? Such an important internal discussion, and she’s even considering skipping it for a child’s 18th birthday party. Please, she’s paid a high salary by taxpayers! And then she puts on this act as if family is more important, without the money from taxpayers like me, without solving problems for taxpayers like me, what would her children use to have a party? My biggest mistake was marrying her."
"There was one time you sent me to handle some menial tasks for Justice Farrell, and I happened to hear her complaining to General Leon’s wife, Mrs. Ashley, about something similar," John said as he sped along the highway.
"What did she say?" Tommy looked out the window at the Long Island scenery whizzing past and asked.
John said, "She said her biggest mistake was believing, after the divorce, that you would actually bless her as she started a new life."
"Standard procedure."
