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difficult, as I’ve already said.” Trader took credit for warning the governor. “Just remember, you heard it from me first. So don’t blame me if there’s controversy.”
    “If I look bad, I most assuredly will blame you.”
    “As you should,” Trader said. “But don’t let my warning stop you from laying down the law, Governor.” Trader had long since mastered the art of doublespeak. “I think we should send a helicopter down there immediately and try out our program. Don’t you?”
    “We send helicopters down there anyway to pick up my seafood. So I don’t see why not.”
    “That’s exactly my point,” Trader agreed.
     
    T RADER hung up and scribbled on his notepad for an hour, trying every combination of meaningless words he could conjure up or find in the thesaurus. By the end of the afternoon, he came up with VASCAR, which stood for Visual Average Speed Computer, more or less, and implied that if a motorist was visibly speeding, then an objective nonhuman device—a computer—would decide if the person was guilty by calculating the average speed he was going when he moved from point A to point B. Points A and B would be white stripes painted across pavement that could easily be spotted from the air. Trader was certain the acronym would be appropriately confusing and bureaucratic enough to strike fear in the hearts of all. Most important, he would make sure that any public outrage would be directed at the state police, and not the governor or him.
    This is brilliant, he happily thought as he logged on to the Internet, using an alias screen name. A scheme was rapidly unfolding in his mind, and there was much to do. He pulled up the Trooper Truth website, his pulse breaking into a gallop. Nothing excited him more than his own cleverness and skills at manipulation. He would make sure the news of VASCAR racedthrough cyberspace and alerted people around the world that Virginia would not tolerate speeders and never had, and that the Commonwealth was a big bully that sent in powerful helicopters to persecute an island of quiet watermen, few of whom owned cars. He would see to it that citizens were furious and complained directly to State Police Superintendent Judy Hammer, thus diverting transportation criticism and pirate problems away from the governor and, of course, away from Trader.
    Hammer was new, not a Virginian, and therefore an easy target. Trader didn’t like her anyway. Superintendents in the past had always been burly, tough men from old Virginia families, and they understood pecking orders and paid appropriate respect to the press secretary, who ultimately controlled what the governor thought and what the public believed. Hammer was a disgrace. She was a blunt, confrontational female who often wore pants, and when Trader had met her the day she was interviewed for the superintendent’s position, she had looked right through him as if he were air and hadn’t laughed at or even noticed his off-color anecdotes and jokes.
    Trader’s fingers paused on the computer keyboard, and then he began to compose an e-mail:
    Dear Trooper Truth,
    I read your “Brief Explanation” with great interest, and hope you can address the concern of an old woman like me who never married and lives alone and is afraid to drive because of all the crazies on the road, including those awful pirates!
    But I certainly don’t think the answer is speed traps and helicopters that go roaring after honest citizens! VASCAR is going to start another civil war, and I hope you will address this in your next essay.
    Sincerely,
A. Friend
    Trader didn’t intentionally put a period after the A, and he didn’t notice the typo as he hit SEND NOW . He realized his mistake when he got a response moments later:
    Dear Miss A. Friend,
    Thank you for your interest. I’m very sorry you are lonely and afraid to drive. That makes me sad, and please feel free to write me anytime. What is VASCAR?
    Trooper Truth
    Major Trader decided he might