Feel the Heat

Dr. Khalid Mohammad had succeeded in waking brain-damaged John Doe for a half-hour, his longest conscious state since Halloween. Dr. Mohammad had already put him through a series of sight and hearing tests, and was now testing his senses. He moved a hot compress to various points on John Doe's body, asking him what he felt, invariably getting the answer "hmmm". Finally, he placed the hot compress on John Doe's inner left elbow. John Doe said, "hot," then he went into a trance. Nurse Consuela Arroyo answered the call button. "What is it?" She gazed perplexedly at John Doe. "I don't know. You need to find the attending neurologist." She stared at John Doe a few more moments. His hands were almost in a supplicative position.

Over on the White House residential balcony, President Bush held his hands in a supplicative position. He was praying for deliverance from the wickedness of heathen liberals. Lunch with Nancy Pelosi?! Why, she went to that crazy Catholic church in Georgetown! Sam and Clarence had explained to him how some Catholics were good and patriotic and others were not. Tomorrow he had to meet with Harry Reid! The man gave cowboy hats a bad name. This was all wrong! Humbling himself, saying he's open to new ideas: he didn't like the feel of it one bit. Cheney had told him it would just be like that for a little while, then the Dems would pass some insane bill, and he would get to veto it, and everything would be fine, but he didn't like this one bit. He stopped praying and took off his jacket. Damn, it was hot! He looked out at Reggie and Fergie, running around barefoot in the balmy backyard, chattering in their secret twin language. He went back inside to get some air conditioning.

Over at Prince and Prowling, former Senator Evermore Breadman was on his way out to the car to get some air conditioning. Gravy! It was all good for him. The new Secretary of Defense was a great friend of his. It always worked out for Breadman. Sure, P&P would probably bring some old fart Democrats into the office, but Breadman would still be in charge of his practice group. He got on his cellphone and almost ran over Dizzy as he sped away up Pennsylvania Avenue. Dizzy let out a string of expletives, jumping back for the curb at Urine Park. "Ugh!" Dizzy hated the smell of Urine Park on a warm day, and he was hoping for snow.

Over at the National Arboretum, Dr. Devi Rajatala was sitting outside her office, enjoying the unexpectedly warm November day, looking at the changing colors all around her. She looked back down at the climate change papers she had picked up at yesterday's conference. Many of her colleagues from school were in Kenya right now, working on the Kyoto Protocol, no doubt heartened by the change in Congress. But it was probably too late for India and Nepal, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. Warm tears slowly trickled down her face.

Over in Virginia, Donald Rumsfeld was packing for vacation, choking back the tears, chugging Jack Daniels to warm his gut. It wasn't his fault. Damn them all to Hell! Condi would fall on her face soon enough. And Cheney?! His time would come.

Back at George Washington University Hospital, the attending neurologist diagnosed John Doe with temporal lobe epilepsy, then got in his car to drive home to Virginia. As he crossed over the Potomac, he turned up the air conditioning and did not notice Ardua below him, carefully plotting her new strategy. Warm air stirred the surface waters, but Ardua huddled in the depths where it remained cold.