Lunch with a Letch

Sadina Rice checked in at the guard’s station outside the fence line of Negon Bush’s private mansion, located on city level 1. The estate covered one hundred acres and consisted of a forty-room, 20,000-square-foot Victorian mansion, a four-acre lake and acres upon acres of gardens, woodlands and meadows. In several areas of the estate, the clear, high-strength plastic ceiling could be opened, allowing fresh air and direct sunlight to enter from the Earth’s surface above in good weather.
A butler showed Rice into the main foyer of the house. He led her down a hallway and into Bush’s sprawling art studio. When inspired, the president spent as many as twenty hours a week painting, sculpting and drawing in the 2,000-square-foot room, lit by natural light that entered through the transparent roof. Unlike any of his ancestors, and very much like Adolf Hitler, Negon Bush fancied himself a capable man of the fine arts.
The butler led Rice out of the art studio and into Bush’s private art museum. The president awaited her at a beautiful, polished, Brazilian ipê-wood table that could easily seat twenty people. An entire acre of rainforest had been cleared to log the one tree from which the lumber to make this table had been milled.
Bush was singing the refrain of a contemporary popular song to himself, in anticipation of the afternoon’s meeting with his female advisor.

    She’s Miss Extreme
A nightmare and a dream
She’s Hell and Heaven
She’s so cute and she’s so mean

Rice walked over to the elevated platform where the president sat, situated in the middle of the 4,000-square-foot museum. This cavernous space, also lit by natural daylight, housed Bush’s private art collection. Hundreds of paintings from all epochs of art hung on the walls: ancient cave paintings, prehistoric tribal paintings from around the world, pre-renaissance, Picasso, Monet, Durer, Michelangelo and Warhol. Sculptures ranging from Hellenistic Greek to relatively modern French, such as Niki de Saint-Phalle, stood all around the room. Bush bought anything he could get his hands on, as long as his advisors assured him it was expensive and rare. Rice noticed that at least a dozen pieces were stacked near the door, ready for shipment to New Vegas.
Bush stopped his singing. “Ah, hello, Ms. Rice. How good of you to come,” the president welcomed her, as she climbed the short staircase up to the table and chairs and took a seat.
“Thank you, sir. You have added some new pieces since the last time I was here. The gallery looks great.” She wanted to compliment him as much as possible, as she was unsure as to why he had asked her here today. She hoped it was to discuss Operation Smoke Out in more detail, and not to engage her as his dominatrix. Although she knew serving in this capacity was one of the main factors in her rapid rise up the power brokers’ ladder, she simply did not feel up to the task today.
“Thank you,” responded Bush mechanically. He clapped his hands once, and called out, “Charles, bring the champagne.”
A fifty-year old man wearing a fashionable tuxedo climbed the platform and served the two politicians champagne in expensive, Hungarian-crystal flutes. Bush employed twenty-six house servants, including four cooks and a pastry chef, who were available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Their salaries were covered under the Homeland Security budget, as all employees were confirmed non-terrorists; the art in the museum, under national defense, as the president had to maintain a positive state of mind to carry out his military duties as the commander in chief.
“Thank you, Charles,” said Bush.
“You’re welcome, Mr. President.” He turned to Rice and said, “Welcome, Ms. Rice,” the waiter greeted her enthusiastically as he finished serving the champagne and put it into a bucket beside Bush. He smiled at them both and rubbed his hands together. “Today’s menu will consist of four courses. We’ll start with lobster salad, followed by roast pheasant and chestnut dumplings. Next, we have Big Macs filled with eighty-year old Russian caviar. And finally, for dessert, homemade chocolate mousse.”
“Sounds delicious. Bring it on!” Bush raised his glass and toasted Rice, “To you, Sadina. It’s hard to believe that only eighteen months ago you were just an entry-level assistant to my public relations officer, and now you’re on the brink of becoming one of my cabinet members as the secretary of defense.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. Soon enough, I hope to truly be a household name.” They clinked their glasses and Rice swallowed a small mouthful of the fine champagne, a product of Bush’s private agritubes. The president downed his entire glass in one, noisy gulp.
Bush refilled his glass. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He continued narrating the story. “It was at a party you helped organize to publicize my victory on the complete elimination of federal funding for local public libraries and television. I remember we spent the money we saved on that legislation to increase our military presence to protect oil interests in Africa. HalliBush & Cheney has recorded record sales there since then.”
“Of course I remember, sir. Even with my family connections, I felt incredibly lucky to meet you personally back then as only a twenty-six year old college graduate with a degree in psychology and no political experience.”
“And you remember that I called you the next day and invited you to a meeting at the House of Light?”
Rice responded, “Of course. I can tell you now that I would like to think I’ve won your respect since then because I’m a competent politician, and not just because I’m your favorite dominatrix.”
“Of course, Sadie,” Bush spoke to her chest, laughing. He recalled how he had researched her file that first night after meeting her and then invited her to the meeting the following day after discovering that she had completed a six-month course at the Las Vegas Dominatrix School. Having finished in the top five percent of her class – passing her practical exams in Torture Techniques and Mental Cruelty and Domination in Everyday Situations with flying colors – Bush had known that he had to meet her. He later found out that she had gained much practical experience working weekends for fun on Level XXX.
When first considering her to lead Operation Smoke Out several months earlier, he gave her a job in the Department of Homeland Security and provided her with a cover personality. Since that time, he had kept her out of the media and out of the public eye to conceal her true identity from Free Vegas.