The Masters' emissary had arrived early this morning at the emergency exit in back. Scotty himself let the emissary in, circumventing security and the log-in at the front door, and led him down a hallway inaccessible to most employees and straight to the Director's office, that is, Scotty's office.

In the past year it had become a ritual performed every first Tuesday of the month: one of the Masters' emissaries arrived unofficially and furtively at HQ, and, according to the Masters' wishes, received a pedicure from Scotty.  They had explained to Scotty that this was a necessary if not for him necessarily pleasant monthly ritual that allowed the Masters to always know that Scotty was with them and that he had the strength and humility to properly serve the Masters.

For his part, Scotty had at first dreaded the monthly pedicures, but he had promised himself after his baseball dreams collapsed that he would do what needed to be done; that was his way to the top, the dollar sign his North Star/This is America/Keep your eyes on the guys/with the Dough/If you really know/Where you want to Go

Scotty hunched forward on the pedicurist stool in his office, his suit jacket bunching up at the shoulders around the muscles he had once used playing ball, the Masters' emissary's bare feet almost at his eye level as the emissary sat up straight, king-like in the throne-like pedicure chair.  The emissary's toe nails, Scotty noted, were thick, yellow and talon-like, just like all emissary toe nails he had seen in the past year.  He figured that there had been about four different emissaries so far, and they always arrived with a daunting set of overgrown, smelly, discolored and cancerous-looking claws.  This emissary he thought he had seen a couple times before.  Had he been the first emissary?  He might be, Scotty wasn't sure.  Scotty had never even learned any of their names, and had personally been advised by one of the Masters not to attempt to engage in small talk, but to let the emissary lead the conversation.

Scotty glanced up quickly from the claws, attempting to catch a look at the emissary's face without also catching his eye, but it was no use; there was a kind of eye-brow frown and unblinking pale yellow eyes that felt like a strong hand pushing Scotty's head back down to the emissary's feet.

Scotty set to work filling the soaking reservoir.  He remembered not the second emissary, but the time the second emissary visited his office last March.  Scotty had been feeling more relaxed after the first pedicure because he had got through that without disaster, and the Masters had made it clear that to keep his job he would have to be able to do the monthly pedicures successfully.  But...that damned claw: the big toe nail.  He had clamped down on it forcefully with the special set of diamond-edged industrial strength clippers he had purchased after the first pedicure.  Scotty had clamped down on the nail and felt the sharp edge bite satisfyingly into what at first felt like a soft and yielding, though repugnant, talon.  Scotty had felt a surge of superiority over the emissary and his damned smelly feet, and for the final squeeze in anticipation of the gratifying click of the diamond-edged clippers, signaling the severance of the nail that never should have grown in the first place, Scotty focused himself and squeeeeezed, but nothing.  The diamond-edged clippers went no further into the nail, as if they had hit a steel laminate hidden somewhere in the depths.  But Scotty had outwardly kept his cool, quickly bringing his left hand to assist the right, and, without showing the anger he was feeling, squoze with both hands.  He heard the click of the diamond-edged clippers, and he perceived somehow the trajectory of the nail as it shot through the air and he wanted to call it back, but by the time he completed the thought of wanting to call it back it had struck the second emissary in the forehead and ricocheted, its altered flight carrying it into the overhead fluorescent light fixture.  As far as Scotty knew it was still there.

After that, Scotty always covered the emissaries' toes when clipping their nails.

"Ready for a nice soak, sir?"

"Yes, Scotty, thank you."  The emissary relaxed in the big chair and observed the top of Scotty's head, the bald parts glistening with a light sweat as Scotty slid the soaking reservoir into position.  "Scotty, when this is over you can get yourself some new hair, I mean some real hair, I know you'd like that.  The Masters' don't think that's the right look for you right now, but they have told me to tell you that when the time is right you'll get the best hair.  But you know, right now, being the Director, and with all this scrutiny..."  The emissary knew he was scaring Scotty a bit.  That had not been his intention, but the emissary had learned in this job that scaring the Masters' servants was unavoidable.  At this early stage of the Masters' emancipation, the servants were all pioneers, the first servants of the Revolution, and none of them seemed to know where they stood in the world, and they were frightened, but god bless them, they wanted to serve the Masters anyway.  The emissary would have liked to credit the servants with bravery, it would have made him feel better about himself and the party he once served, but he knew that it wasn't true.  Servants like Scotty were driven by fear; they were driven away from things, not attracted to things, except only in a secondary sense, in the way that one might be attracted to a life-saver upon finding oneself floating alone in the open sea.  The emissary knew that after the failure of his baseball dreams Scotty had been motivated only by his dreadful fear of amounting to nothing.  That drove him out of Kentucky, to Oklahoma, to become Attorney General, to serve the Masters' lesser allies in that state, to continue to rise, to serve the Masters themselves, to run the EPA, to free the Masters--and the country--from environmental tyranny.

"Scotty.  Is that your famous Cone of Silence?"  The emissary was looking at a transparent booth-like enclosure set up next to Scotty's desk.

"Yes sir."  Scotty's eyes blinked rapidly, but he did not look up from his work.

"Sorry about how that worked out Scotty, but the Masters' had to know that their communications with you were safe.  Your work is some of the Masters' most important work!  And they would have loved to pay for it themselves and get you a much better one, but you know why that wasn't possible."

"Yes sir.  We're going to lower your feet into the soaking bath now sir."

"That's fine Scotty...the Masters have read the summary of your podcast interview with Michael Barbario...Barbaro?  New York Times, last week.  I would like to review with you, as you work, the analysis of that interview as presented to the Masters themselves.  Are you ready?"

Scotty raised his head from his work and smiled without looking the emissary in the eye.

The emissary was already looking down at the stapled pages he had produced from nowhere.  "First, Scotty, high marks for doing your homework.  We know you did your reading, and the Masters appreciate that.

"Once you used the word 'punitive' to describe Obama's environmental rule-making.  Twice you referred to Obama's violations of the original intent of the EPA's charter.  You accepted the characterization of yourself as an 'EPA originalist.'  Of course all of these references to originalism evoke associations with the late Antonin Scalia, and there might be a downside to those associations--in some people's minds--those fanatics who believe there were cloven hooves below the hem of his robe--but those aren't our people, and as we have discussed before, the Masters feel the power in the idea of originalism to prove that it was Obama who deviated from American norms, from the thoughts of our Founding Fathers, and that you are here to restore those norms to the American way.

"You talked about 'cooperative federalism,' --good--with the tie-in to the original intent of the EPA charter.  Later we'll talk about a little problem with that.

"At least four times you used the world 'weaponized' to describe what Obama had done with his environmental rule-making.  Points for every time you used that word!  You used the words 'paternalistic,' and 'dictatorial' to describe the attitude reflected in Obama's 'morphing,' of the EPA --points for all of those!--all three are on your vocabulary study sheet.  Excellent!

"You talked about the importance of the 'rule of law.'  Good!  That emphasizes Obama's environmental lawlessness as opposed to your own devotion to the law.

"You said 'the debate about the impact of CO2 is important for us to wrestle with as a country.'  Straight out of your readings!  Excellent!  I've always liked that one, Scotty.  For the people we want to send messages to it means that our mind is open, we're willing to listen, the fanatics are on the other side.  At the same time it means that we don't need to take action until the controversy is settled."

The emissary paused.  Over the last twenty seconds Scotty has raised his head and was looking directly at the emissary.  The emissary saw, with a twinge of pity, that Scotty seemed to know in the wisdom of his fear that he was about to have to let go of his hope for a favorably adjudicated pedicure.

"Scotty, don't let me interrupt your work.  There were some things the Masters wanted me review with you in particular, areas where you could improve before your next interview.  It's Ok, Scotty.  It's Ok.  Are you Ok?"

"Yes sir."

"Now about the cooperative federalism.  I know that was on your vocabulary sheet, and it was in your reading material, but the Masters feel that you could have, on your own, realized that talking about it in that way, when just a few days before you had called for a national fuel standard that would do away California's more stringent emission standards, might seem a little inconsistent on the subject of cooperative federalism.  Some people, even some Republicans, might cite California's tougher emission standards as an excellent example of cooperative federalism.  So one day you say federalism doesn't mean that one state should be able to dictate to the rest of the country, and at the same time you're suggesting that the government should impose a one-size-fits-all national fuel standard, and a few days later you're talking about cooperative federalism meaning that there is no one-size-fits-all for states when it comes to the environment.  Scotty, people might start to notice this.  By the way, why did you say that the California emissions waiver means that California is dictating to the rest of the country?  How are you going to explain that in a tough interview or the next time you appear before Congress?  You're going to look dumb or you're going to draw attention to the Masters, or both.  Either way that is not something the Masters want to live with for very long.  Remember, Scotty, they're not ready yet to come all the way out in the open.

"Then Scotty, there was your response to the question, 'What is true environmentalism?'  You said, 'Not to pick winners and losers.'  My God Scotty! Nowhere in your assigned readings did it say that you were to define true environmentalism as 'Not to pick winners and losers.'  You were only ever to use that phrase to describe what Obama was doing with his rule-making--he was picking winners and losers remember?  Like picking the coal industry to lose?  Was that a brain fart or what?"  The emissary paused.  Scotty was actually looking him straight in the eye, and what Scotty was thinking was not transparent to the emissary.  The emissary felt this as a personal challenge to himself, and he felt his old tar and plaque-clogged body become excited in response to what he thought might be insolence, but his own training kicked in and he consciously relaxed his muscles, and felt his body go slack in the big chair.  He smiled at Scotty.

"Also, Scotty, you said that Obama said climate change was more important than ISIS.  That was Ok, and you should have left it at that, after implying a scoff at it.  But then you said 'If climate change is more important than ISIS, I wanna know about it.'  Do you see what you did there?  You followed a pretty good move with not such a great move.  You said 'If' climate change is more important.  You made it seem possible that maybe climate change is more important than ISIS, but you just don't know about it.  The last thing you want to imply is that maybe you are just not on top of all the relevant information.  People get nervous about the environment, even the people we are talking to.  You're the Master here, or you're supposed to be.  People are going to get nervous if they start to think you're just not competent.  The people we are talking to want you to prevail, they want to believe that global warming is a hoax.  But if you, the head of the EPA, and a member of their team starts to raise doubts, then where will that leave us?  Where will that leave the Masters?"

The emissary knew that this last part landed like a bludgeon to Scotty's head, and, lacking the sadism that might have made him more valuable to the Masters as an emissary, he was painfully aware of the overkill.  The emissary's last words had come straight out of the readings provided to him by the Masters and he had been instructed to memorize them and deliver them like an actor.  The Masters had even provided an acting coach to work with him for an hour so he could understand the full meaning of what he was saying to Scotty.  Bah! As if he didn't understand.

The emissary and Scotty were mostly silent for the rest of the pedicure.  The emissary decided not to address the topic of the plane rides.  The Masters, thinking that this would identify Scotty more with the president than themselves, weren't that concerned about it anyway.  In his report he would say he ran out of time.