Analysis, Interrupted

The following message came in from Sir Harry on the secure line: "The Russians are herding whales off the coast of Vladivostok. Why? And no, you're not going there. Analysis only. Usual rate."

I felt like hurling back Alford Korzybski's observation that the map is not the territory, but since my little promotion to the Analysis Department, I felt I better not push things. Anyway, I had some contacts in the area that would at least get me a picture of just what was afoot.

After some back and fill, and calling in some markers, I learned that the Russian navy had indeed corralled some whales. Five Minkes and four Humpbacks, to be specific. Further investigation indicated that the research was tied into their submarine program. This did not surprise -- Russia and submarines was a romance that too often ended in tears. Remember the Kursk? Obviously they were attempting to learn from pros just how to submerge and float with ease.

As I wrote Sir Harry, this would not work, and he needn't worry. It is always unwise to copy nature exactly. For instance, early attempts at emulating bird flight went nowhere. We only learned to fly by bolting a 400 horsepower engine onto the equivalent of a barn door. Nature never went in this direction. I mean, how would such a creature feed itself? What was important was to suss out the underlying principles, and work from there.

Just as I was to expand on this aspect, Irving, my butler and minder, entered, all apologetic. He knows I hate being interrupted when I'm on a Sir Harry assignment, so whatever it was would be of some importance.

"There is a woman," he began, "who claims to be your cousin."

"I don't have any cousins...wait. There is one. But she is deep in some godforsaken town in Iowa, if she's still alive. We never got along. Are you telling me --"

"Her name is Prudence Smith," Irving continued. "I put her in the drawing room."

"Well, needs must," I sighed, and we trotted downstairs, there to meet a very ruffled Prudence, her face flushed, and glaring at Irving. "That man," she said icily, "touched me!"

"Quick search for a weapon," Irving said dispassionately.

Oh, my, I thought. Prudence, I began to recall, was modest. I mean, so much so that she would eat a banana sideways. And her outfit! Ill-fitting jacket, and a dress that was more a tent than an item of apparel. On the other hand, I was in my comfy but very unstylish sweatsuit, so I was not in a position to comment.

"Prudence," I said. "Welcome. It's been, how many, twenty years? Twenty-five?"

"Thirty-one," she replied.

"And what prompted you --"

"I am attending a convention in the city. The World Temperance Union. And since I knew you lived nearby, I took a cab here. Something very disturbing has happened that involves one of your children. You must deal with it."

"Do go on." What the hell was she talking about?

"In the hotel, I made the mistake of turning on the television. There is a religious program on at eight that I don't like to miss. Instead, I got something called CSA --"

"CSI probably. Unless you were watching a program on the Confederate States of America."

"Anyway, there was a body. All bloody. And Simone, it was Victoria!"

"How on earth would you know that? You've never even seen her."

"I follow all the family", she said primly. "Our pastor encourages close family ties. So I keep a scrapbook, and get in touch with all family members. They send me pictures."

All this was news to me. "Well, I never sent you any pictures."

"I never asked for any. Considering what you do for a living."

"I raise sugar beets," I retorted.

"And kill. But I've always thought you were a lost cause. But you children can be saved. They can be protected. And Victoria should not be shamelessly exhibiting her body that way. Disgusting. You'll have to tell her to stop it."

"I have."

"What?"

"I've already had a conversation with Vicky on the matter. She uses her little film career to supplement her income. It allows her to attend various seminars, and give papers. Right now she is in Boston, I believe, presenting a thesis on the decline of Western Christendom."

"The she is lost as well. You're probably proud of her."

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm proud of all my children. All four. One of each."

"What does that mean?'

"Oh, you'll figure it out. In time. Anything else? Care for a cup of tea? Something stronger?"

"Nothing. You can call me a taxi."

"I can have Ahmed drive you back to your hotel."

Prudence flinched. "Ahmed? I think not. A taxi will do."

Shortly after, she flounced out.

I looked at Irving.

He looked at me.

"Lord protect us from protectors," I said.

"Amen," he replied.