The President's Brain Is Missing Read Online Free Page B

trying to get into the President’s brain crosses the hole’s frontier and comes out in a shut-down FBI indoor shooting range at Quantico.”
    Alex stared at Brad Stein for several minutes, uncomprehending.
    â€œI think the question you want to ask now is ‘why,’” Stein said.
    â€œYes, that’s it exactly,” Alex said.
    Stein looked over to the Secret Service agent. “Turn that television set around, Jenkins,” he said. Jenkins obliged, and Alex saw that he was watching the news.
    â€œDid you record it?” Stein asked.
    â€œYes,” Jenkins said.
    â€œThen back it up to the event, please. And turn the volume up,” Stein said. Jenkins did, keeping the television on pause. The image on the screen was of the President, standing in front of a podium.
    â€œAs you know, the President was slated to give that damn tax speech of his tonight at a Town Hall meeting in Ohio,” Stein said, walking over and taking the TV remote from Jenkins. “Because he’s a bit of a moron, that President of ours, he thought that it would be a fine idea to give that particular contentious speech in the open on a high school athletic field that the Secret Service could spend a year trying to cover and still miss an angle or two. So it was not exactly a surprise when the inevitable happened.” Stein pressed “Play” on the remote.
    Alex watched as the President of the United States was assassinated. One moment the President was mouthing platitudes, the next there was a loud pop and a hole bloomed out of his left temple.
    â€œOh, my God,” Alex said, looking at Stein.
    â€œWait, it gets better,” Stein said, and motioned to the TV.
    Alex turned back to the television to see the President, slightly stunned, bleeding from the hole in his head, arguing with Dave Boehm and the head of the Presidential Secret Service detail. Alex frowned. “What is he doing?”
    â€œHe’s telling them that he wants to keep doing his speech,” Stein said. “That dumb son of a bitch has just been shot in the head, and is bleeding out of a wound that would have been fatal if we hadn’t hidden his brain, and all he wants to do is keep reading off the Teleprompter. It’s admirable, in its own magnificently screwed up way.”
    Alex kept watching as the President was finally dragged away from the podium, looking extraordinarily pissed. “Is he all right now?” he finally asked.
    â€œNo,” Stein said. “He’s got a bullet hole in his temple. He’s lost a fair amount of blood, some bone and other tissue, and the bullet caused a small amount of damage on the inside of his skull before it hit the edge of the timespace hole and exited out into that Quantico gun range. He’ll be out of commission for a week or so. The Vice President is currently acting with full Presidential authority. No more elementary school visits for him. But on the other hand the President’s brain is completely unscathed. He’ll survive, which he wouldn’t have done otherwise.”
    â€œYou saved the President’s life,” Alex said.
    â€œYes,” Stein said. “For what it’s worth. But it wasn’t just me. The idea came from the Secret Service. The President takes too many public risks. He’s always going out into crowds and mixing with the public in ways that make it hard for his agents to keep him safe. Last year he even wanted to ride through Dallas in a convertible. Dave finally had to show him the Zapruder film to get him to change his mind. From the Secret Service’s point of view it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. They came to me for advice. When the President decided to make this speech in the open, we acted.”
    â€œAnd you did that without him knowing,” Alex said.
    â€œNo other way to do it,” Stein said. “I’ll save the technical discussion for another