Splash was up early. The last thing we caught from the news storm of Sunday was an ultimatum from the Kremlin- we used to say things like that- about what had been a pretty nice town on the Black Sea in Ukraine. It had been surrounded by some invading army, and as night settled in on Virginia’s Official Start of Spring, word was that the Ukrainians had an hour and a half to submit to the just, if slightly imperious, demands of the invader.

Some of us were inclined to get a nightcap and wait to see the results, while Splash announced he was going to just go to bed and not waste time on Narratives not yet created elsewhere. The rest of us enjoyed a mellow interlude and a restful night under clear skies and a brilliant totally full and shining lunar orb.

Splash was up early. Loma and Splash were languid in their chairs and Melissa was brushing out her hair. There was coffee in front or beside everyone. Splash said the city of Mariupol was still there, though there was no word on action or casualties. He had been up early and when the Attorney wandered in to provide guidance on acceptable speculation, he was ready for her. She knew it was One of Those Mondays as he launched before she could even get seated properly.

“So, what is it we can talk about today? What is the view of Legal and are there downstream implications for Socotra House HR?”

She took a deep draft of hot coffee, grimaced, and lowered the cup to the table near the fireplace. “That is why you all became Independent Contractors rather than employees last year. Our Legal Section is committed to a fair application of standards and equity.”

It is a challenge for her, since she has to deal with those who apparently inadvertently signed away their First Amendment Rights in post-retirement status. That means anything that could be construed as violations of Article 88 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice must be strictly observed, unless you are a former Intelligence Community Official, who apparently can sign letters about anything. It is a little bit delicate, but she seemed to be pleased at not having to look it up.

Splash frowned. “So, we can’t be critical of any policy imposed by any official after being a civilian for nearly twenty years. Did I get that right?”

“Well, it sounds a little unreasonable, but we have been told that is exactly the case and we wish to avoid legal entanglements. They are costly and would distract us from the Company mission of providing useful commentary on policy matters of concern to the public at large.”

“By not being able to comment on them.”

The Attorney frowned. “You are on thin ice there. The point is to avoid the process.”

Splash was a career sailor, so he accepted things in the same spirit as “Situation Normal, All ‘F’d’ Up.” Buck had wandered in and had enough coffee to dully open his eyes. “As far as I am aware, I am not subject to Article 88 provisions. I could offer sentient opinion without censor, right?

“Of course,” responded the Attorney. “But no one who is would be permitted to agree with you.”

“How about traffic accidents or public health matters not related to public policy regarding the crisis before the one in Mariupol?” That was from Loma, who was clearly not awake yet.

“So long as your observation is not tinged with partisan rhetoric under the provisions of domestic opinion guidance provided by the Department of Homeland Security.”

“That would include Supreme Court Confirmations, right? Like we could mention Justice Clarence Thomas being admitted to the hospital for “flu like symptoms” which has meant something else for a couple dozen months?”

“Sure. Just stay away from confirmation hearings happening today.”

“OK. There are policy issues related to crime we can ignore. And we can ignore the border issue, even if it seems wildly improbable to be concerned with borders in Europe and not the one here.”

“True. It is not that your opinion is not valid. We just can’t report it because of the equities involved. We have appointed one of our new attorneys as the Diversity, Inclusion and Equity officer to keep track of that.”

Splash clearly considered the new acronym. “Well, what about the new leading cause of death for citizens aged between 18 and 45 years of age?” The Attorney pursed her lips, clearly having to think through matters of policy and death. “Please don’t start on that nursing home business. That is trouble for everyone.”

Splash smiled. “Nah, that is Old News, and those folks were old. Obviously no one cares about those things now. But what about people who were healthy and started just started dying?”

The Attorney said she would check, but Splash was on a roll. “We have a fentanyl problem. We can talk about that, right?”

“Certainly as a public health rather than a policy issue.”

“OK. How about this one.” He looked down at something scrawled on a note card he produced from his pocket. He began to read it: “Between 2020 and 2021, nearly 79,000 people between 18 and 45 years old died of fentanyl overdoses. 37,208 of them died in 2020 and 41,587 in 2021.”

“That is a horrifying pair of numbers.” The Attorney clearly was not prepared to deal with those sorts of statistics this early on a Monday.

“When you consider we lost around 54,000 Americans in the Vietnam war, which ran for about a dozen years, yes. There was a lot of emotion about that.”

“We have agreed that remembering those who perished is an honorable thing and in accordance with the provisions of the UCMJ. Just stay away from blaming anybody specifically by name or partisan affiliation. Plus, the number for 2020 is only about 75% of total Vietnam casualties, and 2021 is still considerably less than 90%.”

“Thanks,” said Splash. “Considering how 2022 is starting out, we may be able to keep this year’s total deaths under 54,000.” He saw DeMille filling up a cup of coffee in the kitchenette, which meant a production meeting was likely to break out without legal guidance on what was permitted for discussion.

“So, if I get this straight, we can worry a bit about cities on the Black Sea, and we can mention some health statistics. Those are OK, right?”

“Within reason,” said Legal Counsel. “Just don’t push it.”

DeMille looked around the circle from his accustomed standing position to start the meeting. “What shall me start with on this magnificent day in early Spring, Gang?”

“How about losing an equivalent number of citizens to the deadly effect of an imported illegal opioid drug equivalent to the losses of the entire Vietnam War every year?”

There were some frowns and absolutely no laughter from anyone. The Attorney looked sternly at DeMille, who in turn looked around those in their chairs around the fireplace. “I think the verdict on that matter is that it would swiftly get to policy about borders. The only one we are encouraged to talk about is unfortunately not on this Continent.”

The response to that somewhat muddled guidance was just about what you would expect. “Do you think the annual totals will actually be the same for the equivalent of the Vietnam War every year? And shouldn’t we get the little kids masked up?”

The Attorney smiled, her work being done. DeMille frowned. Apparently he didn’t see anything light, mildly ironic or remotely amusing about any of it. Tough time for a production engineer, you know? It might require a point of order at some point to figure it out.

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