“No one told me I would age,” he said angrily.
“Ahh, that would have been the ticket to stopping you,” she said. “How about Milicent?”
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t bring it up, or look at her too closely, or even make eye contact with her, like you’re doing to me.” He put his palm in her face to get her to back away.
“I may want to study you,” she said, batting his hand away. “I’m experimenting with making my own door.”
“I have something more pressing,” he said. “When we came back, the Quine library was in flames. I’m sorry to say the building’s armored outside couldn’t prevent loss from internal combustion.”
She gasped. “No! All that material, gone?” She took a seat.
He nodded.
“This is terrible,” she said, holding her head in her hands. “Thousands of …” In a flash she jumped up. “I can help. I can re-create everything.” She ran to her drawing table and started to make a list. “I remember all of it, I can write it all down.”
“That’s why we’re here,” said a different voice.
Suki looked up from her list. Milicent was now in the doorway, Mica next to her.
“I’ve been trying to convince your new boss to give you back to me, but she refuses. So you choose.”
If Noah had aged ten years, Milicent had aged at least twice that. Suki tried not to stare.
“Oh man, are you kidding me?” she asked, looking to Noah for guidance.
He shrugged.
“Thanks.” She approached Milicent. “I’m happy to help you, but we’re at a crucial time in the country right now. We’re just about to unveil our new plan, and the judge is addressing the nation in ten minutes.”
“I’ve invited them to stay,” Mica said. “Permanently.”
“It pains me to be back here,” Milicent said.
“You’ve got nothing back in Massachusetts,” Mica said. “Literally nothing. So the way I see it, this is your best offer.”
Milicent huffed out of her nose but didn’t say a word.
“I thought so.”
They walked out on the White House lawn, now newly sodded after the fires. Mica walked up to the podium and, per her directive, the spectators who normally would have lined up along the fence were invited to sit, picnic-style, on the lawn during her speech.
Mica looked out at the sea of attendees. The majority were women, all of whom desperately wanted a female president, seeing this as the answer. But she wasn’t. She was just another fallible human, trying her best in an impossible situation.
Since she didn’t have a speechwriter, she had taken a run at writing a speech herself, but she’d never been good with the written word. She did better speaking from her heart.
“There are some that say our goal in America is one color—conform or be cast out. Some say the goal of our melting pot is sameness. But I say no: We are a diverse people. The goal is not to all become one but to embrace the paradox that we are all one, as we are different.” Mica looked out at the people crowded on the lawn. “We must embrace the muddiness of life. To mistrust others because of skin color, or religion, or any differences in beliefs means we distrust the very God within them. We are all part of the whole. We like the clean lines of neat boxes labeled in a row, telling us who’s who. But our hearts sense something is amiss when we look to these self-imposed walls. Our head dismisses it, judges, and shuts the heart down. But that only works for so long before our heart makes us sick from neglect. Neglecting the truth can no longer be the way of life in this country. We must embrace the unknown, in others and in ourselves. As we live and grow and raise our children together, this country will prosper through respect and cooperation.”
She was met with roaring approval from her audience on the lawn. Yet again, the people of America would put their faith outside themselves. But this time, the country had a greater chance to flourish as originally intended.
Behind her, Noah trotted out a fairly large oak tree on a dolly. It was a mystery how he could maneuver something so heavy by himself, or why he had been assigned the task with so many groundskeepers present. Glaring at Milicent, who was standing with Suki behind Mica, he stopped near a freshly dug hole. Mica motioned for him to place the root ball in it. He obliged and barely got it in the hole. A few other young people on staff helped cover the roots with dirt. After a bit of work, the tree stood on its own.
One staffer began drumming a slow, rhythmic beat as Mica spoke again. Milicent shook her head but kept quiet.
“I scatter these acorns of the ancient tree in the four directions, welcoming all races to meet us here in the New America, the New Atlantis.” She walked around the tree and scattered acorns behind her. “This heartbeat will call those from the four directions together in a new and unprecedented time of peace. My words are but a representation of what is buried within your hearts, waiting to be unleashed at the proper time. Now is the time. It is through the actions of your heart that our world will be transformed for good.”
As if by magic, the roots of the oak tree snaked deep into the earth yet remained visible, glowing tentacles of light reaching out in the four directions. They reached deep into the core of Mother Earth and Sophia’s library, connecting to the current of humanity.
“As the sap flows to each leaf of this tree, the same life flows within each person here today and to each person beyond our scope of sight,” Mica said. “We are all connected by the divine water running through our veins.”
Everyone on the lawn witnessed the miracle of the tree growing before their eyes. Mica knew the ideas she was voicing were planting themselves like seeds in the minds of those that were there. The most prevalent idea: compassion. She saw fifteen pregnant women on the lawn that day. She could see that each felt their own importance, carrying the future heart of America within them. They all wept, overcome with the joy and awe for life. Mica hoped this feeling would snake its way down into the cord breathing life into their unborn children, infusing the next generation with a fire to carry on the promise of her words that day.
Mica invited as many as could fit in a circle around the tree. They all joined hands.
“In a circle,” she said, “there is no leader. All are equal. The truth springs from many hearts and takes many outer forms, no two ever the same. I do not wish to be a leader for a lifetime, for if I do that, I’ve failed you. I am a leader for a purpose: to reestablish this country as it was originally intended. I am the leader of this project, nothing more. For at the end of it, there will not be one leader, but many.”
She sat down on the grass and the children in the crowd joined her. Everyone else knelt on the great lawn of the White House and felt the sun on their faces. Her staffers brought out instruments and handed them around, and together, they all began to play music.
Suki and Noah joined Mica on the grass. Milicent stood in the shade behind the podium, alone.
“You belong out there,” Ocean said, walking up beside her.
“No, this is for the young ones,” Milicent said. “I was never a tree hugger, and I won’t be starting now.”
“We all have to start somewhere,” Ocean said.
“Is this how you thought things would turn out?” Milicent asked, pointing to the current president of the Unites States dancing around a tree on the White House lawn.