Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

Nat rushes in, noise from the crowded street cutting off as she slams the door. She hitches a thumb towards the outside world.
“What did I miss this time?”
Guido grins at Allie, who gestures for the new girl to fill their prodigal reporter in.
Sandy sighs, then leans back, lacing her fingers behind her head.
“First week of the New America Campaign has got everyone hot for one side or another. It’s going to be a bloodbath: whether that turns out to be pitched battles or massacres is yet to be determined, along with the level of actual bloodshed involved.”
Nat dumps herself down in her seat.
“What about that new bunch? The Statist Front or whatever the Red and Blue press hacks are branding them?”
Guido chuckles.
“Fifty Stars are doing well, picking up the disaffected from all sides. Accusing them of being Statists is a little simplistic-”
Allie interjects.
“Like propaganda ever resorted to lowest common denominator tactics.”
Guido doffs an imaginary cap.
“Thank you for that, Professor Obvious. As I was trying to say: they’re more than the claims. Someone on their side has been paying attention, and their pitch of state rule with federal hands-off until requested has got a lot of people interested. Plus their approach to gun ownership has a sizeable chunk of the NRA backing them, although that’s undeclared as yet.”
Nat frowns.
“I thought their front runner is a Z-”
Allie hoots, wagging disapproving a finger.
“No use of dirty words in here; that includes both of the ‘N’ ones, too. Besides, Bobby isn’t. His dad was, and nearly disinherited Bobby about that. If he hadn’t dropped dead before making good on his threats, things might have been very different.”
Guido nods.
“Personally I think the only difference would be Lizabet Van Houll as the candidate and Bobby Rennick as her pick for VP, instead of the other way round. Somebody chose their candidates carefully.”
He stares pointedly at Nat.
“Shame we can’t find out who’s actually behind those who everyone else thinks are behind them.”
Nat gives him the finger.
“With their stated intent to raze the current domestic enforcement agencies to the ground using this new Federal Investigative Agency they’re proposing – which I still think will effectively be a domestic CIA – they’ve rightly got their security hardened and in order well ahead of the inevitable escalation of attacks.”
Sandy tops up her water.
“This is all terribly interesting, but I thought I was employed by a keen indie news website, not a discussion group.”
Allie chuckles.
“Brave words for someone ending their third week. Please consider this before you dig your sarcastic self any deeper: every one of us has at least a hundred A.I. agents working on leads, leaks, and verifications as we speak. We’re not idling, we’re waiting. Every script mandates regular check-ins, regardless of content found. That half-hour of frantic keyboard activity three times a day isn’t us trying to look busy. It’s us instructing our minions about what to focus on.”
Sandy says nothing. Allie continues.
“That datapack you still haven’t opened is your intro, starter, and guidelines. Since we all think you fit in, these soft-hearted fools have talked me into giving you a heads up: new peeps get a month to turn up something newsworthy that the rest of us haven’t. You’re down to nine days.”
Sandy looks nervous.
“Nine?”
Allie nods.
“We like you, but nobody dodges the one-month rule. Make the grade or you’re gone.”
Sandy sighs.
“Gotcha. This sarky idiot better get her ass in gear, then.”