Lincoln stirred in his cell, half awake. He slept on a mattress thrown across the floor; the prison was overcrowded and all four bunks had occupants. Lincoln looked around him and saw only one man awake, Salmon P. Chase. "I had the dream again," he whispered. "I think good news is coming."

Lincoln spent the early morning lying on his mattress trying to fall back asleep. When the lights came on at seven, he picked up the newspaper and tried to read. He was too depressed to have the patience, however, and he ended up spending the rest of the morning daydreaming while flipping a coin randomly, just to occupy his mind and hands.

At breakfast, General McClellan sat and visited with him as he ate. "I wish you would give up this peninsula campaign, and simply march south from Washington," said Lincoln sullenly.

"General Lee has fortified every inch of the way from that route," said McClellan. "And the distance from the peninsula to Richmond is much shorter. I shall lose at least twice the men with your plan." "Very well," said Lincoln, "but winter is fast arriving. I want you in full motion before the cold sets in."

McClellan sat and watched the man eat in silence (he himself had already eaten). Lincoln was depressed again, that was certain. "It has been said," said Lincoln, "that you are diverting men from Washington to the south for treacherous purposes. To allow," he swallowed, "to allow the Confederacy to take the capital." McClellan immediately stood, as if at attention. "Give me the names of these people!" he demanded.

"I'm only letting you know what I myself was told of certain members of Congress," said Lincoln. "My purpose is not to drive a wedge, but only to let you know that this war must be waged in politics as well as on the battlefield." McClellan seemed to calm down. "Now, if you give me victories, on the peninsula or wherever, I think this will silence these rumors."

McClellan then said that he had to get back to the army, and find out on his own, if he could, the Congressmen who had spoken of him in such a way. After saluting Lincoln, he called a prison guard over to let him walk through the magnetically sealed door.

Lincoln spent the morning in the library. The prison had an extensive law library, but very little on military tactics, which Lincoln wanted to study for sake of making a better commander in chief. After searching and searching for something military, he settled on a history of the Revolutionary War, and spent the hours reading until it was yard time.

He stood with Salmon P. Chase out by the bench-press in the yard, taking turns doing benches with him for about an hour. They grew tired after seven sets each, and watched some prisoners playing basketball for the rest of the two hours of yard time they had. "I have my doubts about General McClellan," said Lincoln to Chase. "He doesn't seem to be curing himself of the slows."

"Who can you replace him with?" said Chase. "That is, I mean, assuming he's not the man for the job."

"That's the problem," said Lincoln. "I must have somebody to replace him with." He sighed. "Did all the great generals go south with the secession?" he asked rhetorically. "Don't get me wrong; he has turned the army into an organized and powerful entity. The men adore him. But I feel he loves the army too much to put it into battle, and a general must go into battle."

Chase and Lincoln sat on a concrete step and stared at the prisoners playing basketball. "Do you know who's winning?" asked Chase. Lincoln laughed. "I don't think they're taking score themselves." They sat in silence until Chase spoke again. "Lincoln," he said, "do you ever wonder what you're doing here?"

"What," said Lincoln, "here in this prison?"

"Yeah," said Chase.

"I always just assumed I belonged here," said Lincoln, "like all the rest of these prisoners. I never really thought on it much." "Me neither," said Chase. "It just seems like an awful burden for anyone to carry, being locked up for so long. You know, I've been here as long as I remember."

"So have I," said Lincoln.

After lunch in their cell, Lincoln and Chase blew each other, Lincoln being the first to go down. They were what you call situational homosexuals, as opposed to the kind who prefer men while in the company of women. They both had an aversion to masturbation while in the room with someone else, while it seemed much more natural to have social sex while in a social setting. They neither needed nor wanted foreplay: they were both finished in a matter of minutes. As Chase sat there and tried to get a guard to light his cigarette, Lincoln decided to nap (he was still somewhat depressed), and he surprised himself by actually falling asleep for a good hour. When the hour was over, he went back to reading his history of the Revolutionary War, and wondered what good news the dream meant would happen today. He always had the dream before good news.

The dream was that he was on a ferry boat, being ferried to some distant island. He never reached the island in the dream; he was always going toward it, well on his way but still not quite reaching it. He often wondered what the dream meant (some goal within his grasp, winning the war perhaps?), but he always had it the night before getting good news. He had had the dream before he was elected President, had had it before the Monitor stopped the Merrimac, had had it before several ill recollected smaller victories, and now he had it last night. He looked at his watch: it was already past four. The good news would surely have to come before the lights went out at ten.

At dinner Lincoln was visited by Frederick Douglass, who urged him to free the slaves.

"Mr. President," said Douglass, "if you announce an emancipation, the slaves of the South will not let you lose this war. With their freedom at stake, they will rise and win it for you."

"I cannot justify a breach of the Constitution just yet," said Lincoln. "The war has gone on a long time, but I fear the white soldiers will put down their arms if they are made for fight for Negro freedom, and I doubt Congress will stand by such a move."

Frederick Douglass left Lincoln with his hands empty, but Lincoln himself was made angry by his words. Why was he, Lincoln, a prisoner? Why did he, President of the United States, lack the very freedom Douglass spoke of? These questions, which he had never been much bothered by before, took hold of him as he finished his dinner and watched the guards start forcing the men into line to march back to their cells. He was suddenly furious, and he wasn't sure why. When a guard told him to finish his dinner and put up his tray, he threw it down on the floor. "Where's my freedom?!" he demanded. "I am asked to free the slaves while I'm a prisoner? Where's my freedom?!" The prisoners all stared chanting it: Where's my freedom? Where's my freedom? It almost seemed like a dream.