shiver. Of dread. Which is also how it feels. Kate doesn’t notice because she’s too intently focused on what’s about to appear on the screen. This turns out to be a talking head on some studio panel, a middle-aged guy, beardy, academic, bifocals on a chain.
‘So, these defence contractors,’ he’s saying, ‘they’ve developed quite an attitude. I mean, it’s not just that they think they’re above the law, which they often are , it’s that by aggressive lobbying, by packing government advisory committees, and by other frankly less than ethical means, they think they can actually make the laws, shape them, customise them to their own requirements. We’re talking about billions of taxpayer dollars being funnelled into a sector that isn’t accountable, that isn’t part of any chain of command, a sector that operates outside the jurisdiction of the United States and is therefore free to formulate what effectively amounts to its own foreign policy. So real reform is needed here, you know, and I think people should start demanding that reform, they should contact their elected representatives, they should get on the phone—’
‘Kate, who is this guy?’
‘—they should send emails, texts, tweets, whatever it takes, in order to—’
She taps the space bar to pause it. The beardy man freezes, silenced mid-sentence. Without looking at me, Kate says, ‘It’s Harold Brunker, he’s a law professor at NYU. He represented some of the Occupy people after that thing on the bridge. He’s—’
‘A law professor?’
She looks at me. ‘Yeah.’
‘And what’s this?’ I nod at the screen. ‘What’s he on? Some kind of news show?’
‘It’s . . . I don’t know, it’s just . . . a clip I came across, it’s—’
‘Great. A clip on the Internet.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘A clip . On the Internet .’ If I wasn’t so tired, I’m sure I’d be able to do a better job of muffling the contempt in my voice. Shit, if I wasn’t so tired, I’m sure I wouldn’t even be talking.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means . . . learn how to code on the Internet, Kate, fine, that makes sense, maybe, but the law? You think you’re going to learn about the law by looking up random websites and watching fucking YouTube clips?’
‘ What? ’
‘You heard the professor there. This is a private corporation that gets to make up its own foreign policy. So you can be damned sure that at the very least all of their lawyers went to actual law school .’
The look I get for this is one of momentary incomprehension. It’s as if my statement has to be translated from another language. Except that it doesn’t.
‘Jesus,’ she whispers, after a long silence.
I’m immediately sorry and want to say so, but I know if I start, the words will catch in my throat.
‘Anyway,’ she goes on, a little shakily, ‘my ignorance of the law is hardly the point.’ She turns and flips the laptop closed. ‘Man, they really did a number on you over there, didn’t they?’
She walks past me and goes into the living room.
*
The next morning things aren’t any better and we’re giving each other the silent treatment. I don’t know what I can say without making the situation worse. Because the thing is, I really want this job at Barcadero. It’ll be a chance to claw our way back a little. But taking it will effectively preclude me – preclude us – from voicing any criticism whatsoever of Gideon Logistics. And after last night, how do I break that to Kate?
Though maybe the job won’t work out – maybe this Yannis guy chugs down a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, shows up for work, and I’m back at square one. At least in that case I’d no longer feel the need to be so defensive. And hypocritical. And like an asshole.
On the subway, I stare vacantly across at my reflection as it flickers in and out of visibility. I know it’s just a job, but I’d like the regular pay cheque, and I guess I wouldn’t be
‘So, these defence contractors,’ he’s saying, ‘they’ve developed quite an attitude. I mean, it’s not just that they think they’re above the law, which they often are , it’s that by aggressive lobbying, by packing government advisory committees, and by other frankly less than ethical means, they think they can actually make the laws, shape them, customise them to their own requirements. We’re talking about billions of taxpayer dollars being funnelled into a sector that isn’t accountable, that isn’t part of any chain of command, a sector that operates outside the jurisdiction of the United States and is therefore free to formulate what effectively amounts to its own foreign policy. So real reform is needed here, you know, and I think people should start demanding that reform, they should contact their elected representatives, they should get on the phone—’
‘Kate, who is this guy?’
‘—they should send emails, texts, tweets, whatever it takes, in order to—’
She taps the space bar to pause it. The beardy man freezes, silenced mid-sentence. Without looking at me, Kate says, ‘It’s Harold Brunker, he’s a law professor at NYU. He represented some of the Occupy people after that thing on the bridge. He’s—’
‘A law professor?’
She looks at me. ‘Yeah.’
‘And what’s this?’ I nod at the screen. ‘What’s he on? Some kind of news show?’
‘It’s . . . I don’t know, it’s just . . . a clip I came across, it’s—’
‘Great. A clip on the Internet.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘A clip . On the Internet .’ If I wasn’t so tired, I’m sure I’d be able to do a better job of muffling the contempt in my voice. Shit, if I wasn’t so tired, I’m sure I wouldn’t even be talking.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means . . . learn how to code on the Internet, Kate, fine, that makes sense, maybe, but the law? You think you’re going to learn about the law by looking up random websites and watching fucking YouTube clips?’
‘ What? ’
‘You heard the professor there. This is a private corporation that gets to make up its own foreign policy. So you can be damned sure that at the very least all of their lawyers went to actual law school .’
The look I get for this is one of momentary incomprehension. It’s as if my statement has to be translated from another language. Except that it doesn’t.
‘Jesus,’ she whispers, after a long silence.
I’m immediately sorry and want to say so, but I know if I start, the words will catch in my throat.
‘Anyway,’ she goes on, a little shakily, ‘my ignorance of the law is hardly the point.’ She turns and flips the laptop closed. ‘Man, they really did a number on you over there, didn’t they?’
She walks past me and goes into the living room.
*
The next morning things aren’t any better and we’re giving each other the silent treatment. I don’t know what I can say without making the situation worse. Because the thing is, I really want this job at Barcadero. It’ll be a chance to claw our way back a little. But taking it will effectively preclude me – preclude us – from voicing any criticism whatsoever of Gideon Logistics. And after last night, how do I break that to Kate?
Though maybe the job won’t work out – maybe this Yannis guy chugs down a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, shows up for work, and I’m back at square one. At least in that case I’d no longer feel the need to be so defensive. And hypocritical. And like an asshole.
On the subway, I stare vacantly across at my reflection as it flickers in and out of visibility. I know it’s just a job, but I’d like the regular pay cheque, and I guess I wouldn’t be
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