(Based on characters in The Lightning in the Collied Night)

October 2, 2034

Daniel sat in a brown leather swivel chair at his West Wing office desk as he finished reading the report on his pad. He looked up when he heard a knock on the door; it partially opened, and his aide peered into the office.

“Benjamin Abwao is here, Mr. B.”

“Thanks, Masha—please send him in,” Daniel replied in his Boston accent. He stood up and stepped around the desk as a tall young man with very short black hair and a close-cropped beard and mustache, dressed in a black suit, white oxford shirt and black tie, came into the sun-filled room.

“Hello, Mr. Abwao!” Daniel smiled warmly as he extended his right hand. “It’s good to meet you.” He’s got at least six inches on me—must be six-eight, maybe six-nine, Daniel thought. He could play D-line for the Patriots, or forward for the Celtics.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Vice President,” Ben replied as he shook Daniel’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. And, please call me Ben.”

“Please have a seat, Ben,” Daniel said as he motioned to one of the two arm chairs facing his desk and stepped behind it to sit down; Ben sat down also. Daniel studied the Secret Service agent in front of him. “Director Duran tells me that she’d like you to join my detail. And in fact, you asked to be put on my detail.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Well, whatever the director says, goes. So this chat is just a formality. I like to get to know the agents who keep me from getting myself into trouble,” Daniel said with a wink.

“I understand, sir.”

Daniel glanced down at his pad. “I see in your background report that you were born in Kenya, and you and your family emigrated here in 2018.” Ben nodded. “I thought I detected a bit of an accent.”

“I was only 11 years old when I came to the United States. My accent has faded considerably.”

“And I see that you and your parents became citizens about 10 years ago.” Daniel looked up at Ben. “You were, what, only 18 then?”

“Yes, sir. I wanted to become an American citizen as soon as I was eligible.”

Daniel grinned, “Congratulations, to you and your parents! You probably know more about US history than I do.”

Ben smiled sheepishly, “I doubt that, sir. But, thank you.”

“You joined the Secret Service almost five years ago. What led you in that direction, Ben?”

“Well, sir, I love America and the opportunities it’s offered to my parents, my sister, and me. I wanted to do something to show my gratitude. I’m a pacifist and thus not a good fit for military service. I thought joining the Secret Service would be a way to give something back to my country.”

Daniel nodded approvingly. “So tell me… why did you request to be on my detail? I know I don’t have the best reputation among you Secret Service agents for being easy to work with.”

Ben smiled slightly as he recalled what other agents had told him about the vice president. “I developed a keen interest in politics from my parents. Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve followed your career in the Senate, then as a candidate for president and later vice president. I admire your focus on racial and social justice. Also, I think your emphasis on loving one another, including one’s enemies—your ‘conspiracy of love’—is quite remarkable, and inspiring.”

“I see.” Daniel sat back in his chair. I haven’t said much about that lately, he thought regretfully. But, since he brought it up… “Ben, not many people know this, but… that ‘conspiracy of love’ wasn’t my idea.”

Ben’s right eyebrow went up. “Is that right, sir?”

“Yes.” Daniel smiled from a fond memory. “It came from my fiancée, Sahra.”

Daniel thought back to the mild late winter day in 1991 when, as a senior at Stanford University, he’d come across a disabled car while out running near the campus. A young woman dressed in a flowing, ankle-length dirac was changing a flat tire on the car—which was parked on a muddy shoulder. He stopped and offered to help her, and she gratefully accepted as she was late for a party. After he changed the tire, he gave her his phone number and asked her to call him when she arrived safely home. And somewhat to his surprise, she did.

Daniel was immediately and completely smitten by the young woman—not only because of her deep brown eyes and beautiful smile, but because of her kindness, intelligence, and effortless grace. For Sahra’s part, she was attracted to Daniel not because he had been a star on Stanford’s football team—a second-team All-American linebacker in his senior year—nor because of his handsome face and sleek bald head, but because of his gentleness and kind heart.

They quickly became inseparable. They loved to talk long into the night about their plans and dreams for the future, and about what was happening in the world. During one such talk, they discussed the various conspiracies and conspiracy theories that obsessed many of their fellow Americans. Sahra, a philosophy major, suggested that what the country, and the world, needed was a “conspiracy of love,” based on God’s attribute of love which He created as an instinct in each person. Daniel, a poli-sci major, told Sahra that while he personally supported such a “conspiracy,” he thought her idea was “unreasonable, illogical, and impractical.” But he loved her for thinking of it, nonetheless.

After dating Sahra for nearly two years, Daniel proposed to her, with the understanding that he would convert to Islam, as was the expectation when a Muslim woman wished to marry a non-Muslim man. But two weeks later, Sahra was driving to a restaurant one night with her best friend when a man fleeing from police after an armed robbery ran a red light. His SUV, traveling at over 100 miles per hour, slammed into the driver’s side of Sahra’s small car. Both women were killed instantly.

Ben noticed that Daniel’s eyes were glistening. “I’ve heard about her, sir,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.” It was many years after Sahra’s death before Daniel started dating again. But he never met any other woman he loved as much as Sahra. Despite being considered “Washington’s Most Eligible Bachelor” and a multi-year relationship with Halle Berry, he never married.

Daniel returned his thoughts to the present and looked down at his pad. “I see your last assignment was on President Bush’s detail. That must not have been very exciting for you.” Daniel knew that the elderly former president, a long-time friend, hadn’t strayed far from his Texas ranch in recent years.

Ben smiled slightly, “That’s the way I like it, sir. In my profession, the less excitement, the better.”

Daniel nodded, “Oh, of course.” He set the pad on his desk, stood up, and extended his hand. “Welcome to the Cardinal team, Ben.”

Ben stood, smiled, and shook Daniel’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

Daniel half-frowned, half-smiled. “That’s kind of cumbersome, huh? Members of my staff and other Secret Service agents call me Mr. B.—what do you think of that?”

“Whatever you’d like, sir… Mr. B.”

Daniel considered the tall agent. “Did you know that, in the Bible, Benjamin was the youngest son of Jacob? And Benjamin means, among other things, ‘son of good fortune’?”

“Yes, I do, Mr. B. In fact, the son of Jacob is my namesake.”

“Really? Well then, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to call you Benjamin—all right?”

Only my mother calls me Benjamin, Ben thought. But… “That’s just fine with me, Mr. B.”