When he turned sixteen, the United States Department of Internal Security classi,ed Chik Cantera as a mid-level national security risk. DIS believed he was being groomed by Meeko Gallantos, a long-monitored, high-level national security risk. Escalating tensions between NATO and the Sino-Soviet Alliance triggered the Department of Internal Security’s increased interest in the Gallantos-Cantera cell.
Early in the summer, DIS awarded a no-bid contract to Simon Percy Sterling and Associates, a little-known ,rm in Palo Alto that did things for government and political entities which they could not do for themselves. Simon Percy Sterling’s management assigned the task of engaging the targets and earning their trust to Hasti Ferdowsi, a hard-to-rattle, twenty- three-year-old attorney. Despite being an SPS rookie, Ferdowsi’s track record was impeccable. To prepare for this challenging assignment, she reviewed background investigations and toured the Space Systems Command Center at Los Angeles Air Force Base.
DAY 1: CAMP CORINTH ON BASSWOOD LAKE
Camp Corinth on Basswood Lake was a 244-acre lakefront property deep in the Stanislaus National Forest southeast of Sacramento. In central California, Camp Corinth had a reputation as a place where kids from all economic backgrounds could mingle as equals for a week. Corinthians often had revelations that stuck with them for life. As a teenager, Hasti Ferdowsi attended three times. Simon Percy Sterling arranged for her to be a Corinthian Journey Guide and for Chik Cantera to be awarded a Camp Corinth scholarship for outstanding home-schooled biologists.
On a toasty mid-August Sunday in mid-California, around mid-day, Hasti Ferdowsi parked her electric BMW in the Camp Corinth staff lot. She jogged to the nearby Director’s Residence to meet Oliver. He assigned Chik, Hasti, and a seasoned Journey Guide, Gloria, to Sentinel House, on the camp’s southern edge. Then, Oliver took Hasti to the Cantina, a Gold Rush-style log cabin, where mail and snacks were dispersed. Outside, the red, white, and blue hung like a sweaty Fourth of July polo shirt on the camp’s fifty-foot flagpole. The charter bus from the Bay Area honked as it entered the parking lot.
Chik was the last bus rider to enter the Cantina. He looked lost. A large army surplus pack filled absolutely to the bursting point dwarfed his five-foot-six, 130-pound frame. Motioning him over to her spot at the table, Hasti showed him a neutral smile and said, “Hi, I am Hasti Ferdowsi. Let’s get you registered. Name?”
“Chik Cantera,” he responded with a nod, but no hand. “Good to meet you.”
Hasti scanned the registration sheet, found his name, and explained, “OK, Chik, you will be in Sentinel House, where Gloria and I are Guides. It’s at the far southern end of the property. Let’s get you a name tag. Keep it on for the rest of the day. With me so far?”
“With you all the way.”
“Why don’t you look around for fifteen minutes until I finish my shift?” Hasti suggested with a bright smile on her full, severe lips. “Then we can pack our gear over to Sentinel together.”
Outside the Cantina, Chik took off his pack, sat on the ground, and leaned back against his gear. He watched a co-ed group playing frisbee golf on Assembly Field. Groggy after the long, hot bus ride, he dozed off for a few minutes. When Hasti came out, she stood in front of Chik. Even though she was an inch taller and ten pounds heavier, she debated whether to offer him help. Then she put both hands where they could not be ignored and braced her legs. Chik took her hands at the wrist and popped up off the grass like a cat.
Hasti helped him sling his pack onto his back and said, “Follow me to my car so that I can get my stuff. Then I will show you the most highly scenic route to our cabin, OK? I presume you appreciate the highly scenic?”
“Very much,” Chik agreed, looking directly at her for longer than before. The black plastic frames of his glasses disappeared into the thick brown hair over his ears. “Lead the way.”
Hasti hoisted her pack out of her car’s trunk with ease. It was lighter than Chik’s. She was an experienced packer. She led him west through an area of contemporary structures used as a conference center in the off-season. At a campfire meeting ring on the lakeshore, they turned south along a wide, well-worn trail through ancient cedars and firs behind the rustic cabins fronting Basswood Lake.
To get him talking, Hasti asked, “What do you want to get out of this week?”
“I don’t know,” Chik said while shaking his head side-to-side. “I’ve never been to a summer camp. I got a scholarship. I don’t know why. Everybody here looks very preppy. I won’t fit in here at all.”
Hasti assured him, “Everybody at Corinth is equal before Christ.”
“Nobody here will have the slightest interest in me.”
“Most kids who come here get a big takeaway even when they don’t expect to.”
“If you say so.”
Arching a broad, well-plucked eyebrow and pursing her lips as if to speak, Hasti remained silent.
Everybody assigned to Sentinel Cabin stood in a circle at 16:00 hours and introduced themselves. Hasti and Gloria gave brief remarks. Everybody got a copy of the ground rules.
“Hey, what do you think so far?” Hasti asked Chik after the others were gone.
“I didn’t expect so many women.”
Tilting her head and throwing a heavy braid of her dark brown hair back over her shoulder, Hasti said, “When I was here as a camper, it was not co-ed.”
“Oh. How’s the internet service?”
“Non-existent. If you want anybody to know about something, you’d better write them a postcard. Corinth spins it as a plus since it supposedly helps us get serious about our business here.”
“Oh-oh, it never occurred to me that they’d put a camp in a dead zone.”
“When this camp was founded, the country was nothing but dead zones. And yet, the people have prospered.”
“Have they?”
Scrunching up his nose drew attention to the tiny blue stone in his right nostril. From there up to the bridge of his horn rims, his nose was broad and robust compared to the narrowness of his cheeks. Chik brushed back the hair on his forehead and took a deep breath. They left the cabin at an eager pace. Along the most direct route to Mona Lodge, Corinth’s dining and meeting hall, Hasti pointed out additional indisputably pleasant features of the property. For the next four days, Chik and Hasti walked together between Sentinel House and Mona Lodge twice a day.
After lunch on Wednesday, Hasti pulled him to a stop with his shirt tails, wiped the sweat off her nose, and asked, “Don’t you ever worry that you are too much of an outsider to be of much use to society?”
It was so quiet she thought she heard Chik’s heart speed up.
“I am on the spectrum,” Chik said shrugging. He resumed walking. “Why can’t I be an insider and an outsider?”
Hasti was at a loss for words: the background briefing had said nothing about autism but he did not seem to be joking.
(first published on 19 May 23)
