“What was that, Eric?” his mom asked, as the congregation rose to do what Eric thought of as “the huggy” thing.
“Just a prayer, Mom,” Eric said as the lady in front of him, whom he didn’t recognize, turned around to get a hug and a welcome. “It’s called ‘Recessional.’ ”
2
Getting from Huntsville to Newport News had once been a major endeavor. Especially after the events of 9/11 when security cracked down on airport travel.
The virtual destruction of the mujahideen movement in the Dreen War had pretty much eliminated the need for the increased security measures. But they had, of course, continued on as long as the airlines survived. The only thing more eternal than the stars was a government program. However, the increasing replacement of airlines with Looking Glasses had eventually killed even the TSA.
Even up to a couple of years before, security had searched people moving through the Glasses. There wasn’t any reason for it that Weaver could ever see; the Glasses weren’t exactly worthwhile targets. Sure, you could shut one down. If you set off a nuke in close proximity. But the nuke was the problem, not the Glass shutting down.
Eventually even Congress had come to its senses and now there wasn’t any more “security” than a minor police presence in airports. The airports remained as a good center for long-range Glasses, but that was about all.
So as soon as he got to his car, Bill drove to the Huntsville Airport. He parked in long-term parking, hoping that he’d get a chance to move the car somewhere else if he was going to be gone long, then walked into the terminal. There was a Glass opening to DC in fifteen minutes at Gate Nine.