The Conspiracy Chronicles: Books 1-3 (The Conspiracy Chronicles Boxset) by Michael Evans

Author:Michael Evans [Evans, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boundless Press
Published: 2020-03-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Have I mentioned that I hate the cold?

Well, I fucking hate it, and it’s back to bite me in the ass again, and try and freeze off every limb in my body. I am wearing a black blazer with a light blue undershirt, navy blue tie, and brown pants, and none of them are helping to combat the frequent gusts of wind off the lake. Yes, I feel disgusting—like a mannequin in a department store whose muscles are tight from never moving. And my mannequin is stuck right under the air conditioning vent.

Okay, I’m done with this metaphor for now. The point is I don’t look or feel cute. Even Riva didn’t compliment me at first. Before I left the apartment, she looked at me all confused and then commented how my body looks out of place in clothes like this.

I can’t argue with her because she is right. My entire being is out of place at an event like this. I am at the top of a luxury river-cruise liner, meant to fit over two hundred people at lavish parties surrounded by the nation’s most prominent political figures. Not only are large social gatherings like this not typically my vibe (except when Jake peer pressures me into going to one) but the stuffy, fake atmosphere that the boat seems to collectively captivate is abhorrent in my eyes. People are wearing designer suits and dresses, watches that cost more money than half of Americans make in a year, and wearing cool shades just to flex.

The sun is beginning to go down, and although some of the rays of sunlight are reflecting off the water, creating a sharp glare around the boat, being nearly thirty feet above the water on the roof of a three-story ship means there is no reason for sunglasses.

These people see things differently.

I nudge Jake with my shoulder as I connect with one congressman who has clearly gotten a little bit too drunk off the open bar on the boat. I watch in slight fascination and slight horror as he unbuttons his shirt to show people his third nipple.

“He’s lucky no recording devices are allowed here tonight.” Jake looks on in both disgust and amusement. “This would go viral so fast.”

“Yeah, it would be a welcome break from all the crazy conspiracy theories and political rants going viral right now.” I let my fingers brush over the small, metallic, circular device in the pocket of my suit jacket. Since no devices of any kind are allowed on this boat so that the politicians can speak in private (how ironic the people of Congress want to maintain their privacy when they are stealing it from practically every American and storing all our data in a facility in the desert), we have to use a special holographic projector with the presentation already downloaded on a file inside.

“Are we ready to do this?” Jake eyes me then looks back at the crowd, which has several dozen men and women,

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