Covert Coffee (The Serena Wilcox Dystopian Trilogy Book 2)

Covert Coffee Chapter 10

10

President Ann Kinji absorbed her husband’s words: “He somehow got directly through to my private line.” She let her body sink into the plush seat cushion of one of three chair-and-a-half loungers in the presidential library, the incredible room custom built for her and completed just three weeks ago.

The room was rushed into production after Kinji was overheard referring to her new home as “The Cube”. It was unacceptable that President Ann Kinji, a heroine seeing the nation through the worst chapter in American history, should be unhappy. President Ann, a president so loved that she was often affectionately referred to by her first name, should have the presidential room of her dreams.

Private citizens worth millions, some worth billions, gathered in emergency fund-raising sessions; large gala events complete with paparazzi to cover them. Within a few short days the money was in the bank and the best architects in the world were hired. The entire project was brought from conception to finish in less than 18 months, a feat so incredible that Americans were inspired to believe that the new America had rekindled innovation reminiscent of the days when Walt Disney was still living, Virginia believed in Santa Claus, and Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey learned that it’s a wonderful life.

And the result was sensational! The library was designed to look like an old vaudeville theater. The bookcases had the appearance of audience seating – rows and rows of books, spiraling up and up, to the highest heights where balconies were nearly flush with the glass ceiling. The stage area held a platform reading space with burgundy stage curtains framing the seating area. From the stage Ann could look out over her audience of books, books, and more books.

For no matter how many digital books she had downloaded over the years, she never gave up her love of holding a real book in her hands. These days, real books were like pieces of art: collectables. Not many people read printed pages anymore, and certainly few contemporary works were inked on real paper, but books themselves had never lost their beauty, or the power to calm her. Ann’s library was the only place in The Cube where she felt at home.

While she had only had the space for a little over twenty-one days, she had already developed a daily habit of spending at least an hour a day in the library and she was firm about the rules regarding the new space. She banned The Social Media Channel from her library – no screens of any kind were allowed in. No gadgets, no digi pens, nothing. The intercom system was the only way to reach Ann when she was in her sanctuary, her resting place that literally did have a sanctuary, an incredible one.

The “audience” of books filled half of the library’s sphere, and the stage/set (seating area) was across from the audience, as expected if imagining the room looking like a traditional theater house. The space where an orchestra pit would be was the space set aside for Ann’s sanctuary. Ann’s design team had worked with her to create a prayer and reflection space in the center of the library.

The sanctuary was an indoor garden, both ingenious and beautiful. The entire garden was no larger than the imagined orchestra pit space – it was compact and space efficient. Every inch of it was utilized: pavers with mosses and flowering ground-cover between stones served as flooring; flower beds were arranged organically around the trellis, pond, and butterfly garden; retaining walls held fruit trees, berry bushes and a small assortment of vegetables. There was a lattice arch with flowering vines that created a canopy of blooms; climbing roses, morning glories, sweet peas, and more exotic vines like the “Double Blue Butterfly Pea Vine” and the “Chocolate Vine”, a beautiful climber with distinct chocolate colored flowers that give off a slight hint of chocolate fragrance.

The exotic vines were zoned for tropical climates. Therefore the garden was kept quite warm, with a high level of humidity created by a system of over a hundred misters discretely hidden amongst the plants. Ann relished the warmth and anticipated the freedom of wearing sleeveless summer dresses even in the dead of winter, which would creep up on her again sooner than she cared to think about.

Even the library bathroom was planned by a team of designers. It was generously sized and included a luxury dressing room where Ann kept all of her favorite cotton clothing, mostly beach dresses and oversized T-shirts. She also stored a collection of straw hats to protect herself from the surprisingly harsh rays that blasted through the library’s enormous skylight dome.

 The center of the dome was above the heart of the garden where flowering vines created a focal point for water fountains, bird baths, and bird feeders – an attractant for the many beautiful song birds that resided in the garden. Other garden residents were Koi in the pond, butterflies in the butterfly garden that surrounded the pond, and helpful-to-plants insects such as ladybugs, found in largest concentration in the plants near the masterpiece sculpture fountain. 

At the base of the fountain was a 2-person wrought iron bistro set, perfect for enjoying a morning cup of coffee. But Ann’s favorite place to relax was under the flowering vines in a futon swing, the final touch to complete the enchanted garden. Overlooking the entire glorious display was the stage seating, where Ann was currently still slumped in a lounger.

As she looked out over her flowers, past the natural beauty of the gardens to the balconies of man-made books, a flurry of movement caught her attention. She smiled. Ah, a hummingbird was at the trumpet vine. She allowed herself to relax again – she was safe within her domed library, her enchanted garden. This really was a beautiful world that her people had created for her, their queen.

But as she had said in her speech on ribbon-cutting day, this multi-million dollar project dedicated to her by some of the world’s most successful people in business and the arts “is nothing but a vulgarity if not repeated. Take this example of what can be done when the best of American ingenuity unites, and apply it to a project worthy of the best and brightest.”

She challenged the Kinji Library & Conservatory Foundation to adopt no fewer than ten of the neediest inner-city areas of the nation, ten of the neediest mid-sized towns, and ten of the neediest small towns. Reassemble the think tank. Generate funds. Bring back the galas, the red carpet, and the paparazzi. Make something beautiful. Use the triumphant library project, their new national treasure, as a shiny jewel to inspire something even more magical: something real, that would make a real difference.

Her speech was met with a standing ovation. The president of the Kinji Library and Conservatory Foundation stepped forward to say, “You make a real difference. You are worthy of something beautiful. I’m sure I speak for the entire foundation when I pledge to build upon what was started here today, and recreate America one community at a time.” It took no convincing to get the team back together. They re-named themselves The New America Foundation and went to work planning a “re-building America’s poorest” event that would make President Ann proud.

Yes, it seemed that the nation was headed into a wonderful era of healing and growth. And yet, here she was, worried about a rat in The Cube, an infestation that lingered from the previous administration and all the tragic events that preceded its hideous and shocking demise. Yes, there was leftover business to take care of.

And that was why Ann broke her own rules for the library, the sanctuary that she was now calling her enchanted garden: she brought in her digi pen. It was easy to smuggle in without notice. It was the size of a regular ink pen and no one would suspect that Ann, as vehement as she was about banning all technology from the Dome, would then herself bring in a gadget.

Before she used the digi, she took measures so that she would not be in view of the security cameras. She knew of one spot where the cameras could not focus on her. She sat on the swing under the floral cover, the plants having grown so lush that the view of her under the trellis was completely blotted out by blossoms, leaves, and vines. She breathed in the hint of chocolate from the Akebia quinata and steadied her nerves. What she was about to do was ridiculous. She was going rogue – no one in her cabinet, on her staff, not even the First Gentleman, would know what she was up to.