Escape to New Atlantis

8 The Ineptest 45 Seconds

Catalina

Benedict is just impressive. He's standing tall in his position at center stage of the school's auditorium in front of our public speaking class. It's first period and he's first up, given 30 seconds to prepare to argue "New Atlantis should accept refugees." I'm so glad it's him and not me—I can barely think this early, much less try to convince everyone that we should open the door to contagion and poverty.

His shirt is tight, and the spotlight reveals every muscle in his upper body. I know, because in the past every time Benedict has spoken under that light I've studied each and every one of those muscles. Today, though, my feelings are not about musculature or secret longings, they're simply rooting for my big friend to do well with this tough assignment. Am I the same Catalina?

He begins his three-minute ordeal reminding us that not only does our country have one of the smallest populations in the world but, with zero acres, the smallest land area possible. Where I'm sitting I have a good view of the audience, so I glance around at some of the other girls, trying to see Benedict through their eyes. Some appear to be nearly asleep, but not all. Some are very attentive.

Benedict tenses his upper body as he stresses that our little nation, by wealth, ranks near the average among United Nations members, regardless of size. Some of the girls appear to be considering New Atlantis's position in the world, while others, like me prior to now, are more focused on the speaker's tight shirt. Saanvi told me that Bonnie Chau is Nigel Holmes's girlfriend, but maybe she's looking around—as she studies Benedict she's rubbing her index finger across her pursed lips.

As much as we might want to help those in dire need, Benedict warns, we can't risk bringing to our city even one person who might carry a disease. Nearly everyone gently shakes their head as they contemplate the realities of our isolation. But Bonnie is gently nodding as she contemplates not the speech, but rather the speaker. The diamonds of her earrings twinkle with every nod; the metallic threads of her expensive top shimmer as she sighs.

Benedict softens his voice. "Rather than rickety boats, the founders of New Atlantis escaped the pandemics in cruise ships. But they were refugees nonetheless." He raises his voice and points to various students in the audience. "The Timkens were refugees, as were the Kwoks, and Chatterjees." He points to Bonnie, breaking her reverie. "The Chaus were refugees," now, at a crescendo, he thumps his own chest, "as were the Yuans."

His three-minute clock is running down. "We still have those four cruise ships, one serving as our quarantine station, the others as little more than emergency lifeboats. All are fully robotic so no Atlantean need ever be endangered by any disease that may come aboard them. I submit that we, as a nation, should dispatch at least one of those ships as a haven for refugees. It's time we paid our founders' debt forward!"

The applause wakes the kids still sleeping. Looking at the faces of the billionaire offspring whose names he called out, I could imagine "refugee haven" becoming an agenda item for the Ruling Council. As I say, Benedict is impressive. And, unless I miss my guess, Bonnie is smitten.

The rest of the class is uneventful. My number doesn't come up to speak, so I'm split between relief that I didn't have to make a fool of myself today and dread that I will on Tuesday.

I wait for Benedict, not as one of the sycophants elbowing to congratulate him on his presentation, but as a comrade-in-arms—we have military training together next period. Besides, whether or not he's currently making my blood boil, we've been good friends since grade school.

Once he's free and we leave, he says "Hey, Ortiz, everybody seemed to like my idea for a refugee haven."

"Well, yeah. I think most of us secretly feel a little guilt, maybe a lot of guilt, about being so far removed from the terrors faced by the rest of humanity. You're offering us a way to feel less guilty." I give him a nudge with my elbow. "Did you really come up with that idea in just 30 seconds?"