Knowledge is Not Always
Power
Knowledge is power
~~~~Sir Francis Bacon
It's late and I'm here in
my office, alone. Donna's down in the
Mess trying to see if she can find something for me to eat. I think I forgot to eat dinner again. And being the good assistant that she is she
offered to go find something for me.
OK, so it took the puppy
dog look and a big dimpled grin to get her to go to the Mess, but that's not
important right now.
What is important right
now? Good question.
I'm not too sure. This is the time of day when I normally take
a few minutes to reflect on my life. Oh,
who am I kidding, this is the time I usually spend a few minutes thinking about
Donna.
In a nutshell, things are
good. They're almost back to
normal. I've come to the conclusion that
Amy is a subject better off left undiscussed in the office. I'm still not sure where it is all
going. We've both been busy for the last
few weeks that we haven't really seen too much of each other. And so things are just sort of hanging in
there in limbo, waiting for....something.
What that something is, I have no idea.
But you know what, enough
about Amy.
Back to Donna. She's been a little freaked for the past day
or so and I can't say that I blame her.
I mean, CJ got a death threat. We
haven't had one of those in a while, at least not a serious one. I mean, we get hate mail and stuff like that
all the time but it doesn't usually get the attention of the Secret Service.
So now CJ's being
escorted by a tall, dark, and according to Donna, extremely handsome,
agent. Simon something or other. I guess he's good looking but pretty
intimidating if you ask me. He glared at
me when I stopped by CJ's office a while ago.
Whatever, I guess we'll
all just have to get used to him. I have
a feeling he'll be around here for a while.
So back to Donna. I think there is more to her,
freaked-out-ness, (cool, I think I just came up with a new word) than the death
threat. It probably has something to do
with me too.
But I swear I didn't do
anything to make her worry. It's just
her nature and I'm sure she will be like this every May for, well, probably for
the rest of our lives. It's hard to
believe it's been two years already.
I've been thinking about
something ever since Donna informed me about CJ's threatening e-mail.
I've been thinking, is it
better to know or not to know?
I know, that needs a
little explanation.
Two years ago, when I was
shot it was out of nowhere. People
weren't stalking me; I had no reason to fear anything. But as a result I wasn't prepared, I wasn't
expecting anything to happen to me.
CJ's knows someone is
after her. Is it better to know, to be
on your guard?
Or is it better to be
blissfully unaware?
I suppose both have their
merits.
Knowing gives chance to
be prepared, to be ready. But ready for
what? And exactly how do you prepare? For the worst-case scenario? I don't know.
Being unaware, as I was,
is...easy. Sure I was blindsided,
totally unprepared. I mean, I had dirty dishes
in the kitchen sink and a bunch of ripe bananas on my counter. I wasn't afforded the...luxury (that's not
the right term but I'm too tired to come up with a better one at the moment) of
being prepared.
But I think that not
knowing is better, for me at least. And
for Donna, I think. Could you see her
trying to keep me sane if I ever had a legitimate death threat? Her job is hard enough as it is.
"Josh?" I hear
her behind me as I stare out the window.
"You ok?"
"Yeah," I
mutter, not very sincerely. I watch her
reflection in the window as she puts something on my desk. I can see by the look on her face that she
doesn't really believe I am fine. But
then again, neither do I. It is, after
all, May.
"There wasn't much
left in the Mess. I got some frozen
yogurt and a bagel."
"Well, I guess
that's what happens when I forget to go to dinner." I mutter as I pull my feet off the window
sill and turn my chair around.
"Sure is. You know you really need to..." she
starts as she sits down.
I wave my hand to cut her
off as I swallow. "I know, I need
to take care of myself, eat, sleep, crap like that."
She grins as she steals a
piece of the bagel. "Yeah something
like that. So what were you thinking
about when I came in? Don't tell me nothing
because you had the forehead thing going on." she says with a small smile.
She laughs as I rub my
forehead, trying to get rid of the lines that gave away my deep thoughts. I stop when I realize how ridiculous I must
look. I eat another spoonful of yogurt
and lean back in my chair, putting my feet on my desk.
"OK, I was thinking
about CJ and her, uh, situation. And I
was pondering something."
"Pondering?"
she says with a grin.
"760 Verbal, my dear
Donnatella. I was trying to decide if it
was better to know someone is after you or if it's better not to know."
Her grin fades and she
eyes me with a look of sorrow, pity and understanding. She gets up and moves to sit on the desk in
front of me.
"They say knowledge
is power." she muses as she reaches over to pat me on the leg.
"Yeah. But I'm not so sure about that."
We're silent for a
minute. Donna starts to gesture with her
hands to try and make a point. But the
words never quite make it past her lips and she drops her hand down on my knee. "Me neither." she whispers as she
brushes some invisible lint off my pants.
I take a deep breath and
close my eyes, as if that would help get my thoughts in order and help me to
make some sense of my feelings.
"Would having the
knowledge that my life was in danger been better for me? I don't think so. I would have been...I don't know. I couldn't have done my job. That knowledge wouldn't have given me power,
it would have made me a...prisoner. A
prisoner of my own fear. No matter what
precautions I would have taken I would have felt powerless." I whisper.
"I know, I would
have felt that way too. In fact I did
feel powerless...after it happened, I mean." she says, barely loud enough
for me to hear. Those words cause the
air to rush out of my lungs and I run my hand over my face and glance up to
look at Donna. Her eyes are glassy and
she refuses to meet my gaze, choosing instead to watch her thumb as it traces
circles over my kneecap.
"Donna," I
whisper, trying to get her to look at me.
"It's May," she
says quietly.
"I know." I
sigh as I pull my feet off the desk and move to stand in between Donna's
knees. I can't think of anything to say
that won't send both of us over the edge into an emotional abyss so I kiss her
lightly on the forehead and wrap my arms around her and hold on for dear life.
THE END
