1 -- The archive
Billman saw his sweaty face reflected in the screen of the main computer as he punched the keys to copy the documents into the portable computer, he brought with him. The scent of warm circuitry filled the interior of the room as well as the remnants of perfume left here by the staffers from a long hot day on the campaign, and the smell of his fear induced sweat. The screen saver showed a bird’s eye view of the Manhattan skyline – like one of those cheesy 1960s detective story TV show shots, skyscrapers seen straight down. He felt a little like God, not as the ancients imagined, but more executive in a suit and tie, a long stride from the streets of Newark where he grew up, a stranger in a strange land, not quite accepted by the main stream, which is why he took up with an old white haired man from New England, rather than the liberal lady icon everybody hoped would become the first woman president, just an earlier president had become the first black to sit in the ...
