The server returned with salads. "I've been catching bits of what you're talking about," she said as she set them down, "and I think we can help."
"Oh?"
"What if all the FW Diners sprouted free wi-fi? Then a lot of those Fawksian posts you're contemplating could originate from a free speech sanctuary."
Leo grinned. "I like it. Spread the word. I'll tell my manager when I get home. The parole officer in charge of FW's incarceration appointed him CEO after Ed Reese was found dead in one of his own motels. Our union rep is in charge of this chain, now. We can get wi-fi rolled out in no time."
"Incarceration?" Shem prompted when the server left.
"Then you didn't know what all this cartoon stuff is about?"
"Um, no."
"One of things that's always amazed me," Leo said, "is how much novelty a person can accept as normal before being overwhelmed to the point that they've got to say no, or at least ask for an explanation. Some people avoid novelty, but others are drawn to it. When Fremont-Wayfarer was sentenced to a three-year incarceration for stealing from the employee self-insurance fund, it was restricted from doing a lot of things. That should have kept the company in stasis. But Reese found a loophole: he could redecorate the chain. His idea was to make hay from the sentence, and the parole officer running the show wanted to get union approval first. As you can imagine, the idea of wearing those horrid yellow jumpsuits, and working in a demented prison theme park didn't go over too well."
Shem ate the last of her salad, and set down her fork. "I can imagine," she said. "Well, I'd rather not think of you in bright yellow, but I can imagine the catcalls the plan must have gotten. So why'd the membership let them do it?"
"We nearly didn't. But one of the members suggested a way to turn it to our advantage. That's why there's such a tight focus on activism here. We resolved to use Reese's props and costumes as an icebreaker, a way to bring up corporate injustices in other business, including the companies our customers work for. It started with talk, and then a change to the kind of music playing on the ceiling speakers. Wobbly Banyan was the latest innovation."
While Leo caught up on his neglected salad, Shem spent a few moments scanning the room. Besides the institutional paint job and the serving staff's yellow jumpsuits, she also lingered on the cashier's drab uniform and the plastic window bars, before returning for another look at the ludicrously decorated menu.
"So you think that offering the chain as a haven for Bank Shot clones would energize Frachetti's supporters?"
"Sure. Don't you?"
"Well, it would make it easier for the government to keep tabs on people who plan to slip the Fawkes mask on for a post. It could backfire."
"There's always risk," Leo said agreeably. "Maybe I'm a bit more accepting of it than most because I've already been mistaken for a terrorist."
"You what?"
