Hillary and the Server

Lewis B. Sckolnick

Hillary and the Server

http://www.hillaryandtheserver.com

Copyright © 2015, 2016

Pages 8

Lewis B. Sckolnick

The Ledge House

130 Rattlesnake Gutter Road, Suite 1000

Leverett, MA. 01054–9726 U.S.A.

info@rectorpress.com

Telephone 1.413.367.2853

Once upon a time Hillary with her flowing long bright flaming golden blonde hair who had always been so totally and absolutely assured of herself in every step that she had ever thought to take as she made her way across this complex and somewhat cumbersome world of ours and in each word that she had ever brought herself to openly utter in that quite clearly awesome public array that her life had so readily managed to take upon itself over the course of an extended string of decades that she was often to find herself left feeling that she was quite capable of getting away with just about anything that she could ever possibly hope to set her mind to or try to imagine her seeing herself desiring to accomplish in each of the various original and clearly visibly splendid walks that she had been able to so precisely cut for herself so easily in that remarkable and openly audacious life that she had made for herself in so many venues that she had come to be known in with those individual sets of walks that she had started out with so very long ago having been added to one to the other with their thus now coming together to form an ensemble that said so very much about that almost conundrum structured life that she had been able to mold and build for herself that looked more like a potpourri than anything else wherever she might have happened to find herself and in whatever roles she might have chosen to allow herself to take on and play out to their fullest and whichever course she might have selected for her life to take and that made her feel so very proud of herself for when it came to those desires of hers as she had always liked to believe that she could pull almost anything off as though all of life was composed of a series of steps taken straight out of Nae Nae and to that was added the fact that she had always managed to make sure that she was clearly seen as being the absolute judge and jury of her ways all rolled up into one with many of the others being forced to believe just about anything that she might have chosen to present them with as though everything was to be seen in the end as having become a final decree with any of the other women who had ever just might have even so much as thought to stand against her as they sought and strove for one of the elected or appointed positions that she had so easily attained promptly being forgotten to history or at the very best finding themselves being the subject of a brief article accompanied by a black and white photograph in the New York Times which often read and looked more like an obituary notice than anything else as she stood there towards the front of her long rectangular living-room with its tall French windows looking west toward the Appalachian Mountains and the broad Hudson River with its steep high banks with her wearing a long cerulean blue silk kimono styled dressing gown that she had always preferred to go around in whenever she was at home alone and which had a way of just managing to miss sweeping the red wool carpeted hardwood floors with her knowing that she was always quite capable of carrying the look of an actress about her at all times in the panoply of her various brisk movements that so clearly had a way of coming together to give off the impression that she was floating there on the very soles of her bare feet as though she had somehow taught herself the art of hovering and what she was able to do with makeup was quite something else again so that often she ended up surprising even herself when she looked in the mirror and that mixed with her ever brightening hair formed a formidable smokescreen for her to always be able to hide behind and it was right then as she looked out of her front windows with her looking down towards the south without having to turn her head or having to look at the mountains directly to the west that she decided on the spur of the moment and a monumental moment at that when she was later to look back at it which had seemed to come together from out of nowhere but which she knew that she had long been planning for with her knowing that it was to come to her only once in that singular lifetime of hers that she had been granted as she already knew that what was about to come into being was to be seen by everyone who was at all close to her as being one of her greater ideas as she immediately put aside the stacks of documents that stood there waiting for her in their file folders and the screens of emails that her assistant Huma Abedin had been diligently assuring that she constantly received and although she knew that she might be able to guess at just how busy Huma Abedin had been in arranging everything for her she did not even attempt to guess or imagine that she would ever be able to fully contemplate or appreciate the extent to which the workings of her IT specialist Bryan Pagliano would transform her entire life with all of the various hidden interconnections that he had made for those emails which she had been working with since early in the morning on her sleek grey iPad at her narrow dark mahogany scribe’s writing desk placed up against the north front side wall with its two inset clear cut crystal inkwells with one holding black India ink and and the other holding a delicate yet distinctive carmine red mixture which were placed there in the back right-hand corner and use her dark blue BlackBerry to place a telephone call to the large ornate red brick department store that stood favorably back from the well-traveled stretch of local roadway that is known officially as the Saw Mill River Parkway behind its broad manicured lawns with it looking as though it was thus spread out there in its very own green oasis almost one mile away to the south of her town on that four-lane curving highway that ran out like a winding black silk ribbon to the west of the town with its broadened shouldered lanes showing off their sharp white lines that led all of the way down toward the south with their thus running parallel with the east bank of the river to the very northern reaches of that great city of the world where it is known as Broadway or by its long held to sobriquet of the Great White Way that was set out there by itself on a formidable cascade of islands in the quiet of that large magnificent harbor of the broad wide bay opening out on to the sea as it waited there with its tall buildings suspension bridges and bright lights for everyone to look and wonder at as it stood there so many miles well to the south of the comparatively small town that she had chosen to live out her life in so many years earlier and immediately ordered from that rather well-renowned grand shop of theirs that was always waiting there for her and all of her neighbors and where the compliment of clerks and support staff members gave off the impression of their knowing almost everyone among the mesh of their potential customers in that greater realm that they had all come to inhabit together just as well as they knew all of the more prominent family names that most of those neighbors of hers also knew so very well for many miles around one of the very best in the way of a desk-top e-mail server that they had to offer to her at that very moment with her then instructing them to deliver it at once to her door which was painted in that light “Notting Hill” shade of blue as were so many other front doors in the string of towns that ran there along the the east side of the valley with her taking the time to make sure that they were to pack it for her in a very large sturdy thick-sided cardboard carton which had been especially designed to hold that tall sleek shinning silver tinted box that she so desired and had selected in a series of still smaller inner boxes much the way that a set of Russian Matreshka nesting dolls were presented and which was to be brought immediately out to her house whose location nobody was supposed to know exactly but which almost everyone in the town and yes even many of her more distant neighbors situated well beyond in its much more rural outskirts certainly did in spite of all of her secretive ways for which she was so very well known for both far and wide across that broad mountain-rimmed valley floor and with her then having provided the chief clerk with a complete set of detailed directions which she knew that the driver would need to get to that secluded house of hers which was nestled away almost out of sight from the view of all of the swiftly passing motorists who were to always be seen streaming along in their brightly-colored automobiles as they passed by in what looked like sets of seemingly well executed choreographed ranks and lines while going on their ways as they moved along the two-lane roadway down below the hillside that her house was perched upon and there in a high ceiling long dark oak-paneled Master Butler’s sitting room located off of a side hallway that seemed to be hidden away well out of sight from the main goings-on of the rest of the house so that it was thus kept secreted away at all times from the peering eyes of almost all of her casual friends and visitors alike as it was set there in place at the very far back northeast corner of the second floor of that old and rather quaint yet quite distinguished and still very dignified looking eighteenth century two-storied white painted frame farmhouse where few people had ever been allowed to wander freely as she looked on while she had the delivery team of two unpack and set the private e-mail server up for her atop the ancient stout black rock maple astronomer’s plotting table with its broad strong stranded lion-clawed legs that she had long ago pressed up against the old thickened glass divided-light French windows with her standing there with her making plans to contact Platte River Networks in Denver while seeing the very first hints of a series of future problems staring her right in the face which Correct The Record and AutoBlue had given her a timely heads-up with her having known all along or at the very least she should have known that the private email server was capable of offering her little more than the paradoxical illusion of security and control and absolutely nothing else when suddenly…

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