24 Marshall our forces, we attack at Sunset

24 Marshall our forces, we attack at Sunset

 

I didn’t get much sleep that whole week. We spent the whole time contacting and inteviewing people. River had a wonderful idea and she rented some of the ‘life drawing’ rooms at the art building, while she had me rent some of the private music practice rooms. We, Stan mostly, would take our subjects in there and write absoloutely everything down. Then we would take it to the music office and do our work in a back room, full of files. Nobody ever came there except for the sectretary, and she was Tess’s first cousin or something so we swore her to secrecy. That way we didn’t have to keep the stuff in any of our rooms.

But we were all living in fear that one of us would get called in for an interview. So far only one person… and their family, had been caught by the interviews, but everyone was living in fear. Finally, on Thursday, River walked into the room and said, “Today this nonsense shall end! River shall end it,” she said, tossing her hair dramatically, “Bobbi is not the only actress here.” She announced, and began taking her clothes off.

“What?” We all said together. Grace and Becky had come by and, once they had gotten over their surprise and Tess and my dress code, (Stan being over) we had been having a nice chat, laced with bouts of fear.

“Tonight is my interview, ten o’clock tonight.” River said, stripped and sitting down on my bed, “Get our forces marshaled, we attack at sunset!”

It took us three more tries before we understood her, but once we did, we did get our forces marshaled.

“Riverwalk?” The boy said, his eyes bulging out of his head.

“Yes,” she said, standing nonchalontly in front of him.

“It is time for your interview,” the boy said, “Please come with me.”

But when she started to actually do so, he said, “You may dress first.”

“Why?” She said, “This is how I always dress in my dorm. Oh, very well, silly reactionary boy,” she said, when he started stammering, “I will put something on.”

And she did, leaving the door open the whole time. She put on something I hadn’t seen her wear before, a tight tank top and a pair of jeans. And underneath the tank top she put a padded bra.

“There, is this better?” She asked, “Is your morality assuaged? Not that you vermin have morality,” she added, following him out of the door. “Your behavior has been absolutely disgusting. You have completely sold out to the military industrial complex, and your enslavement to the modern so-called scientific principles is simply appalling. Have you never thought there there is more to life than just atoms in action…”

Her voice trailed off as she went down the hallway after the poor boy. Poor vermin, rather, I said to myself. “Let’s get ready,” I said, “Call the team.”

Thus four huge boys who just ‘happened’ to be walking by when Rivers screamed, and they had the door (which wasn’t actually locked) burst down in a matter of seconds, hauling a very surprised and red-faced agent out by his shirt collar (and getting him quite bruised in the process, which they all later claimed was an accident). Other students, ‘summoned’ by the scream and ‘outraged’ by Rivers report that ‘he tried to grope me’ (all of whom knew exactly how unlikely that was, at least, that he would have succeeded without her active participation), managed to tear up the room and destroy the recording devices (completely beyond any possibility of recovery… particuarly since some of them were computer science majors armed with hammers) along with days of notes etc..

The local sherriff happened to be nearby and took the prospective ‘groper’, and two of his fellow agents who tried to interfere, into custody immediatly… gettting them to the local jail before the federal forces could be mobilized to protect them.

One of the other agents poked his head out of his dorm room, “What’s going on?” he asked, his authority sensibly diminished by the fact he was in pajamas.

“One of your agents tried to rape one of our girls!” A boy in the hall yelled at him. “If I were you I would get back in your room and hope we forget you exist.”

Reports, pre-prepared reports that were, as a result, remarkably well written and consistent, went out to local radio stations. But our coup-de-grace was an interview with River that the TV station did,

He tried to grope me! She said, tossing her hair back.

I came into the interview, and I sat down in the chair that he pointed me to. And then he leaned over toward me, from sitting on the side of the table, you understand, and said, ‘this will go easier if you cooperate,’ and tried to grope me.

The irony of it was that it was all true, except that he had been trying to attatch electrodes to her chest for his lie detecting machine. However when other female students came tearfully (and joyfully) forward with tales of how the agent had ‘put his dirty paws on my chest’ and then burst in hysterics when asked for more details… well, it made very good copy.

The university administrator got on the news as well, saying as how he had complained several times (which was true) about the behavior of the investigators, and how the federal government seemed to be running roughshod over ‘Academic Freedom’.

The federal govenment seemed ready to brazen the whole thing out, until the FBI made the mistake of trying to get their agents released from the jail…

“Can I help you?” the sherrif asked, in his best uniform, and flanked with two similarly dressed deputies with shotguns.

“I have a court order to release the agents you are holding to my custody,” the agent said.

“Well, let me see it,” the sherrif drawled.

The agent looked miffed, as if his mere statement should have been enough, but he held out the order.

“Well, this here isn’t signed by my judge yet,” the sherrif said, “and these are local prisoners, being held on a local charge. You will have to get our local judge to sign it before I will release anyone.”

“Now see here,” the agent blustered, but the sherrif just waited him out.

“Where is the judge?” the agent asked, “I will see about this.”

“Well, I’m afraid you will find that difficult,” the sherrif said, “you see, he is out fishing. And when he goes fishing, he only gives me his number.”

“Well, give me his number!”

“I don’t see why I should do that over a bunch of two bit rapists… sexual assault I guess it is called now… we still tend to call it rape. They’lll do where they are. You all can arrest them for whatever federal charges you want later. They’ll keep.”

“Federal charges? Why, they’ve done nothing wrong!”

“That’s not the story I hear,” the sherrif said, “but like I say, we’ll see.”

“If you think I am going to let several of our agents rot overnight in some two-bit town…” the agent said, moving his hand menancingly toward his holster, causing the deputies to lower their shotguns and inch or two, and his two compatriots to look nervous.

The sherriff stood up. “There’s at least two things you should know about this two-bit town,” the sheriff said, “The first is that the people here have been getting very, very annoyed by the blatantly unconstitutional behavior of your so-called agents, which seem to me no more than some out of control college students with badges and inflated egos. The second is that, given that we are a college town, we are very hi-tech, and this front office is streamed live on the web. You probably have about half the people in the country watching you right now. Now, unless you wish me to arrest you for threatening a peace officer, I would suggest you leave.”

A suggestion which campus security, backed by the football team, wrestling team, and various other interested boys was making to the remaining agents on campus, “For your own security. Tempers are running a bit high right now on campus.”

The agents, some still in their pajamas (or less) were escorted from their rooms and piled several in a car and drove frantically away… their passage (and state of dress) gleefully recorded by dozens of cell phone cameras and making their way to the internet within minutes All in all it was a long night. Caleb and I stood on the hill, holding hands, watching the whole thing.

“Don’t think we’ve won, Bobbi,” he said. “This just gives us a few more days to try to figure out what is going on.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing his hand, “But at this point I appreciate every day.”