CHAPTER SIX: Pessimism of the Intellect...
“...the goal of the Spectacle today is to turn revolutionaries into secret agents and secret agents into revolutionaries.”—Guy Debord
Ambros dropped into an underground parking garage in the President Tom Paine Timeline. He stood quietly until his dizziness passed, then glanced around. Col Jackson approached. Jackson’s decorations glittered and his uniform, spotless and perfectly pressed, revealed his perfectionism.
“Right on time, as usual,” he said. He handed Ambros an ID badge, which he clipped onto his shirt.
Ambros smiled: “Frankly, I don’t have the leisure to run late. But you’re welcome. Shall we?”
“Let’s.” Jackson did not ask whether Ambros had any weapons.
They entered a heavily armored motorcar and the driver maneuvered it through the ramps and then through the streets of that Timeline’s version of DC.
Ambros deliberately did not think about comparisons; he didn’t need to know, and his “location sense” stayed dormant.
He concentrated instead on enjoying the sunny weather in that version of Washington.
The window rolled down, seemingly of its own volition, and a cool breeze blew into the limo. Ambros breathed deeply.
Jackson held up his badge.
The gate in front of them slid open, and the car rolled into the White House grounds.
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