Sidney met the commander’s gaze, and what he saw there made him decide that this was not the time to extol the virtues of freedom of the press.
“Understood, Mr. Phule,” he said, giving a quick salute that wasn’t entirely mockery.
Phule paid only distant attention to the antics of the photo session. Instead, he found himself watching the neighborhood rat pack of kids who interrupted their glide-board frolicking to investigate the gathering. After the reporter shooed them away from the shooting for the fifth time, this time threatening to call the police, the kids resumed their normal games, perhaps more energetically because of the nearby holophotographer.
Though best on hard, flat surfaces like sidewalks, the glide boards could work on anything, and the kids prided themselves in demonstrating their expertise in the face of adversity. They rode them over the tops of the park benches and across the uneven grass. Their favorite maneuver was to skim down one particular slope into a dip, then use their momentum to jump their boards over the hedge, coincidentally landing in the fountain the photographer was using for his backdrop. The boards were even faster over water, however, and they had no difficulty in gliding across the fountain and disappearing before the news team could do more than raise their voices in protest.
Phule watched them intently for a while, then drifted over toward where they were gathering to plot their next move. The kids watched his approach, ready to bolt for the safety of the alleys, but he smiled and beckoned to them, so they held their ground until he was in talking distance.