The President is sitting in his chair as his country burns, watching the parade of never-ending riots on a huge TV, the reflected light from the screen glinting off that fine blonde mane of his.

I keep my eyes on him as I enter the Oval Office.

He keeps his on me, too.

“You here to take me down, Sonny?” he says.

I am.

But even after everything that’s happened these last few weeks, after everything I’ve found out, I still don’t have the heart to tell him this.

Instead I say: “He told me, sir. He showed me Dr. Stone’s tests.”

The President raises an eyebrow, showing his theatrical self, displaying all the star quality that swept him through the polls and into Office.

“He, Sonny?”

“Doctor Po...

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