Knightly News

Folks, if any of you know how to use this, copy it, store it somewhere, and bless you.

I phoned NBS. They weren't interested. I phoned the Examiner and the Trib. That started to feel a little spooky, like ECorp had gotten there. But I don't mean to live inside my delusions; I decided to make a personal appearance, to show someone the documents. I decided to peddle across to The Daily Planet.

I took an old bookbag, laid the manuscript into with and lashed it across the top of my bikeframe to keep the straps from creasing my jacket, then ferreted up Alameda, across Slauson and Olympic through the weekday traffic until I came out on Second and Fairfax. I locked the bike to a cable that slanted from a phone pole, went into a john at the Farmer's Market, straightened my tie and waited for my sweat to dry and the color from my ride to leave my face before I marched across into the front office.

Maybe I need a mask or something. The mild-mannered guy behind the counter waved me off immediately.

"These are documents related to the operation of a nuclear plant."

"What happened?"

"What?"

"Which plant? Is anything happening?"

Where? Why wouldn't something be happening? I stammer.

"OK." Over his shoulder: "Do we have any reports?" A coworker's palms go up, out.

"I doubt you would have received any," I start. "That's why I came." He looks tired; I continue: "The structure of the plant--"

"No. Hang on. No, we don't need that. I appreciate your thinking of the Planet, but -"

"Wait, in the steamgens of these --"

"Is this recent?"

"Well, it's continuous, yes."

"No one has received any kind of a warning. Did anybody die? Do you know names or places? Is anybody hurt?"

"People --"

"No, nothing about nuclear plants -- look it splits open, it goes boom, the President says it will eat my grandchildren, sure. You got that, spit it. Go. Fight with me. But-- "

"Given the size of the nuclear power industry across --"

"No. Truly, no. Now look, I'm not unsympathetic. There's no use for this. You're wasting your -- I don't know, whatever you do with your time."

Why do I think that you meant you-all? I don't move. He gambles that a couple paragraphs will get rid of me, screws himself up to it.

"I printed stories about the plant -- ECorp's plant; that's who you're talking about, right? A leak here, and infraction there -- bam, there it is: big headlines, front page. Nobody reads it. Next one goes page eight, then sixteen.

"No: I pay for copy, pay for paper, pay someone to carry that paper around. Hey, I pay to advertise the paper -- so I actually pay people to read it, though they wouldn't know. Still nobody reads about leaks. Understand?

"You want me to put something in the paper that no one wants to read, that's called an ad. I got nothing against ads; I don't think anyone will read it. You want to pay me, open up an ad, say you stole that from ECorp? I don't think so.

And if that's really what that is, that wad of papers, you might want to put it somewhere and not go walking around with it."