What the Heart Needs

“So, good news, people. Engineering expects some major nodes back online tomorrow, covering all major metros.” Wade flashed his billboard smile.

From the back of the sweltering conference room, a guy called, “You bringing back the AC, too?”

The group managed a few titters. Nobody laughed.

“You betcha. In fact, we’ll bring back more than air conditioning. We’re gonna bring back our country.” It felt natural to dish the old talking points, even if the production crew and technicians weren’t all true believers. Shitheads, Wade thought, pointing toward the back of the room, then giving a double thumbs-up.

Across the sleek conference table, Tom – or was he Bob? – asked, “After everything that’s happened, how do we—"

“Exactly,” Wade interrupted. He didn’t like where this was going. “How do we take back our country?” He glanced down, hands smoothing his perfectly pressed Oxford. At least he didn’t look like he was sweating.

“Look,” said Declan, his producer. “When we got our social immersion network online, it restored the confidence of millions. Now, viewers need to hear from us directly. Bethany, a few words?”

“Well, I’d like to thank everyone for your kindness during my time away,” Bethany said. Sweat pooled, clung to pants that no longer fit. “We missed being on air. Wade did, I know.”

“We’re coming back with wall-to-wall coverage.” Wade smiled. “To empower heroes who’re standing up for our country.”

Bethany sighed. “Who’s our first guest?”

Wade slapped his hands like a used car dealer asked about financing. “We’re leading off with the 1951 Society.”

Bethany blinked too many times, the way she did when a guest went off message. “1951 wants the president to serve a third term.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s unconstitutional?”

“Some people say that, sure,” Declan corrected. “But the fact is, unlimited terms were in the original constitution. Which true patriots support.”

“You want to change the constitution? During a crisis?” Bethany looked from Wade to Declan.

“What crisis? This is the greatest nation on Earth.” Declan stood up. “Any claims that we experienced ‘a crisis’ are a false narrative put out by extremists who hate our way of life. It’s in your briefing.”

Bethany hadn’t read the briefing, just recorded some test lines. “But things happened. People, Justin, they really did—"

“— Right.” Wade winked. “You’ve just missed a few too many meetings lately.”

“Let’s take this part offline.” Declan’s practiced gaze swept the room. Everyone found something else to stare at. He sat down. “Moving on. Getting these nodes back online is a big step toward full coverage. But it’ll strain the network, making it harder to maintain robust AR filters. We need to get ready.” His eyes cut to Bethany. “It’ll take less horsepower if the underlying, uh, reality is more polished. Bethany, you need to get with wardrobe and make-up to better reflect our vision. You know what viewers want to see.”

Bethany wondered if her face looked as flushed as she suddenly felt, or if they were filtering that out. Her hand fluttered to her hair. She could feel it coiling in the humidity. Frizzy Lizzie, right through high school.

No, her mother’s voice chirruped in the back of her mind. Elizabeth. Named for a suffragist.

Wade used his smooth on-air voice. “Look, this time has been hard on everyone, and I’m no spring chicken either.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “Standards matter more now. Viewers want to see America strong, put together. Looking a certain way. You know that Bethy.”

“Bethany,” she said, looking at the Pink-Again polish on her perfect manicure. Which her mother would hate. “Actually, it’s Elizabeth.”

Wade laughed. “Yes, your majesty.” He rolled his hand in front of his forehead in a mock bow.

Declan’s face soured. “We sure treat you like royalty.”

Bethany thought of everything they had done for her since that day. Finding extra rations, sending good hazmat gear in Claire’s slim teenage size. That’s why she renewed the contract.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Must be the heat.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure it’ll be a must-watch interview.”

Declan looked at her a moment too long, then addressed the room. “1951 is helping unveil our next level wearable. It’s make-or-break for the election. And our way of life.” He reached into his suit jacket and put a slim box on the table, then turned to Tom-Bob. “Let’s get everyone up to speed on the technicalities.”

Tom-Bob cleared his throat. “Sure. Well, after recent events, as you know, many users are experiencing lag and breaks in our social immersion network or SIN. And that’s, um, caused some problems, so to speak. Without total immersion, it raises questions. We’ve placed targeted ads and disruptors to convince users that gaps in what they’re seeing are caused by attacks from the other side, by terrorists who hate freedom. But, thing is, it’s hard to maintain their belief with a glitchy network.”

He rubbed sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “This wearable was in development for like forever, before what happened – or, you know – what didn’t happen, happened.”

Declan interrupted. “Let’s be clear. There was no catastrophe. Extremists want to convince us otherwise. They want us to believe in some apocalypse, so we end our way of life. We won’t let them undermine our worldview. We will get back online.”

Bethany shifted in her boardroom chair. She just wanted to read the teleprompter and get paid. The gig hadn’t been this bad before. Before everything. Before Justin.

Declan gestured for Tom-Bob to continue.

“This device will fix the lag, so all users have a nearly unbreakable social immersion experience, right alongside our 24/7 broadcast.” Tom-Bob looked out the window, at the clear blue outside. “The logistics behind this have been rough, lemme tellya. We called in big favors from the manufacturer in—"

“—But we did it.” Declan scowled at Tom-Bob. “Once it goes live, there’ll be no more off-brand experiences, even IRL.”

“Off-brand?” Bethany blinked again. “Like what?”

Wade leaned closer. “Like your episode after you and Justin’s d-i-v-o-r-c-e.”

“I’m not –” Bethany stopped. She wasn’t divorced. This was crazy. She needed to leave. Her parents had room. But she hadn’t managed to reach them since before. Maybe she should try to get back there, face the unknown.

“Nobody likes facing the unknown.” Declan held up a heart-shaped locket. “And, users won’t have to, thanks to the Heart of America, our new wearable AR device. Starting tomorrow, we can live in the comforting vision of 1951.”

“What?” Bethany’s stomach dropped.

“We’ll have other versions, of course, flags and whatnot, but this one’s for the ladies.” Wade pointed at her.

“Women have been slower to engage with our narrative,” Declan observed.

“Good thing my co-host polls so well, from independents right across our core. They’ll buy whatever she’s selling,” Wade said, looking right at her. “I know she’s been distracted lately, but I’m glad to have her back on board as the face of our campaign.”

“The face of the campaign?” Bethany realized she should have read the contract. “I am so….”

“So proud,” Declan said. “Bethy is so proud to cheerlead the vision we all share.”

“I’m sorry.” Bethany stood up and tugged her too-lose pants free from her thighs. “I just…I need the restroom.”

She grabbed her bag, pushed past the chairs, ran downstairs to the atrium with its vaulted ceilings and double-height windows. Leaning against the marble security desk, she slipped into protective outside boots.

“Everything okay, Ms. Brooks,” the guard asked. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Fine, Pedro. How about you?”

“Well, honestly?” He swallowed hard. “We just buried the baby, my little girl. So many people, little kids even, they didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes welled. “You know, my husband passed.”

“For real? Rest in peace.” Pedro shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No. I couldn’t say anything. Doesn’t fit the narrative.”

Pedro jotted her name in the old paper ledger. “The systems ain’t online,” he explained. “I guess they using the juice for something else, some big project. Hey, you know the time?”

She handed him her interactive corporate badge.

“Thanks.” He noted the time and date. “Kids, you know? You gotta hold ‘em close, if they still with you.”

He held out her badge. “Your daughter, she’s okay, right?”

“She’s okay. I don’t know if my parents are.” Bethany took a half-step back, motioning to the corporate device. “I’ll think I’ll leave it here tonight.”

“Uh, okay, Ms. Brooks. You and your daughter, you have a good night.”

“We will.” Bethany put on her mask and goggles. “Claire. Named her after my mother.”

“God bless.”

“Stay safe.” The further Bethany walked from the badge, the more the lobby’s shine faded. She tugged open the door with ragged fingernails and emerged not into the sunshine projected on the conference room window, but into the eerie orange mist.

Bethany hadn’t walked home from work since before, back when walking offered a rare break from the limo service, a chance to feel the city’s pulse. Now, there was just stillness and haze.

Without her device, she saw the boarded-up windows, the dirt, the urgent messages scrawled on hand-made posters. The smell. There’s no way we can stay here, she thought. It must be better where people didn’t see everything through the social immersion network. Out near her folks’ place, they must be cleaning up, trying to rebuild. She wasn’t sure how she could make it there, with Claire and without corporate support. It wouldn’t be easy.

But, she had some things to barter, things that still had value. Just that morning, the network dropped off supplies when they picked her up. She could figure it out. If she had enough time.

How long until Declan sent the man? The network needed her in studio. By tomorrow.

She hurried past the iron bars to her townhouse, sprayed down, removed her gear. “Claire honey?”

She dropped her bag and started looking through the old secretary in the office near the door. “Claire?”

“Yeah? What, Ma?” Claire shouted from upstairs.

“Can you come down? We need to talk.” Bethany pawed through stacks of paper looking for an accordion file she hadn’t seen in years.

Claire paused halfway down. “Talk about what?”

“Have you seen that old folder with the paper maps, the one Justin used for story-time when you were little?”

“Dad did?” She shrugged. “Why d’ya want old maps?”

Bethany crouched to sift through the back of a drawer. “Remember we talked about going out to Grandma’s? You know, when it first happened?”

“What?”

“I think we need to go out to Grandma’s. Soon. Tonight.”

“But what if I don’t want to go?” Claire thudded downstairs, into the hall.

“Honey, I know you’re unhappy. I know you have your friends. But it’s not healthy here. It’s not even safe.” Bethany found the map. “Here we go. Claire, start packing things you really need, only what you can carry. The network sent my talent support box today. We’ll need some of that.”

“Yeah, I looked through it.”

“Good. I need you to pack the rations, and PPE.”

“I don’t want to go.” An edge crept into Claire’s voice. She was in the foyer. “I’m not leaving. My life is here.”

Bethany entered the hall. “Sweetie, it’s not a choice.”

“You’re right. It’s not a choice. We live in the greatest place in the world, but you act like a hater.”

Bethany spotted the new heart-shaped locket around Claire’s neck.

Claire grabbed it protectively. “This came today. When I put it on, everything felt okay again.”

“No.”

Claire opened the door, silhouetted against the mist.

“Claire!” She wasn’t wearing safety gear.

Claire stepped outside. “You said it yourself, Mom. In the commercial.”

“I didn’t —”

“Yes. You did, and you were right.”

“Oh God, what?”

“This is what our hearts need,” Claire said as she closed the door.