The Oval Office, 1947
“They want asylum, Mr President, …”
Truman interrupted his Secretary of Defence.
“And I want a meeting of the Joint Chiefs, Louis – they’re demanding integration!”
“Just one town in New Mexico. They have the technology to further Manhatten.”
Truman frowned. Louis ventured further. “Harry, what’s decided here will be your legacy. Would you rather they talked to the Russians?”
Truman’s furrow deepened.
“Louis, do you ever wonder why they chose Earth? Or who they’re running from?”
The President paused to clean his bifocals.
“I fear my legacy to America may already be determined.”
He looked up. “Ignorance.”
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