Song of the Red-Legged Birds: Chapter 18: A problem like Arthur
Things roll up and downhill
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Last week, in chapter 17, Oliver got away and was assigned a new mission
Chapter 18: A problem like Arthur
You’d find many reasons for religion’s demise if you did a little research. Was it the sex scandals? The obscene money-making practices of the mega-churches? Was it what seemed like the deaf ears of God in the rising wake of old diseases and the appearance of new and more devastating ones? Was it the wars that were in almost every corner of the world with no end in sight? Luckily, no one had used a nuke yet, even as they had become more portable. The news cycles could barely keep up with the number of armed conflicts across the globe. Therapists began treating a new affliction. It was similar to PTSD but was acquired by watching and reading too much coverage of combat. ‘Jesus Never Showed’ was one of the most popular bands, a reflection of religious apathy. They ground out rage-metal tunes like ‘We’re all Halle-looser’s’ now. There were old churches sold to businesses that couldn’t afford to change their facade or decor completely. As a result, you might find yourself in the produce aisle under a stained-glass depiction of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a sign for ‘Kale $12.50 a pound’ taped just under her outstretched hands.
When The Event began, many people thought it was made-up nonsense from edge-case wackos who missed their God. Those who hadn’t experienced it were skeptical at best and outright hostile at worst. Their view was that it was made up by the religious or the government as some sort of mind control.
Until their next birthday when they experienced it for themselves.
“Why do you think Arthur is the problem?” Tom said, adjusting the video screen so Christo could see him.
“Hold on,” Christo closed the door to his office. “He’s putting things together and will want to share that info globally, soon,” he said, staring at the video wall of waves rolling in. “There were too many connections in too short a period. It’s obvious something is changing or is about to. The question is, do we keep this to ourselves for now and see if we can get a handle on it? Lead while there’s still time? Or do we throw in with the world and work on it together?”
“I think you know what the President would say.”
“I have a good idea.”
“If it’s not an imminent threat, your team will devise a solution or something worthwhile in the next forty-eight hours. I can brief the President on generalities until then, but I don’t want to get specific until we’re ready to offer something of value. He already thinks our agency is a waste of billions of dollars; it’s time to put up or shut down. Get your team cracking, and don’t fucking let me down. Appease Arthur, or stall him. He’s a great guy, and I know you like him, but you know as well as I do that his main function is to share intel with the damn world in this global hand-holding hippie shit that we agreed to. He’s a globalist first and an American second, you remember that. Stall him for a while. He’s good at what he does; I’d hate for you to have to take him fishing.”
“Understood,” he said softly.
“Christo, what do you think they want?” Tom sipped coffee from a china cup.
“Beats me. You know as well as I do that we’re still stuck on the who they are part. I think we’ve been somewhat lucky and probably complacent. So far, the only artifacts we’ve documented, like The Event, appear positive. Frighteningly positive would be how I’d describe it. So we’ve been poised for something contrasting that to happen. The time-bleeding could be that something,” he paused. “If we can’t tell who they are, we at least need to figure out why they started this. You asked me what they want. What I’d like to know is, what’s their purpose. If we know that, then we have something, maybe.”
Tom narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the screen.
Christo held up a hand, “Look, they’ve been pretty quiet for a long time. I mean, it wasn’t even that long after the Planetary Defense Coordination Office became operational that the Event started. And, our swift move to innovate on the Bubble to block whatever else they had planned, if anything, is something I hope the President can keep in mind. Our Black Ops arm of the PDCO here in Maui is actively protecting the planet while the rest of the agency is focused on shooting rocks out of the sky.”
Tom shook his head, “I repeat, I want to know if there is a new threat or your best assessment of what’s going on, before, god help me, we attempt to ask them.”
“I will, sir; I don’t think we’re that desperate yet.”
“You have control on the ground? I don’t want to see this shit in the news, Christo.”
“We’ve got eyes on it. Debris was cleared from the scene within hours. An asset has been deployed to deal with the observers. I expect a report back from the field in a few hours.”
“Good. I’m out.” Tom closed the video connection.
Christo sent a message to the tech team to meet in the Network Operations Conference room in ten minutes. As usual, he arrived there first. NOC had several large screens that each gave different views of the Earth and its protective Bubble. Onscreen, the Bubble looked more like a spider web that wrapped the blueish sphere in a cocoon. In fact, it was a super-enhanced iridium network that connected more than 2,500 orbiting satellites. And, as Christo’s tech lead liked to say, “It keeps the good shit in and the bad shit out.” Although the Bubble was invisible to the naked eye, the display gave it a simple color-coded view. It pulsed green when active and solid red when it wasn’t. It also had a percentage breakdown which currently displayed 99 percent active and 1 percent inactive. Anything over 6 percent inactive was a severe problem. At the moment, there were a few red threads over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
The four of them came in a group, chattering amongst themselves. They filed in behind Christo, who only turned around after they sat, and it was quiet.
“Looks fine, doesn’t it?” he said, waving to the closest screen.
“It does,” one of them said.
Christo stared ice-daggers. “I want to remind you of what we do here. What you,” he pointed to the group, “are paid to do. Recognize potential threats. Predict the fucking future!” He slammed his hand down on the conference room table.
The room was silent except for the noise of the air conditioning.
“By now, you’ve realized that you all fucked up, and there’s a threat beyond the Bubble. In mother fucking Boston.” He swiped the map and used both hands to bring New England, Massachusetts, and its capital into view.
“I’m going to make this simple. Go find out how, why, and whatever else I need to know so I don’t look like an impotent asshole again when my boss calls.” He leaned on the table with both arms, head bowed.
“Some of you are going to want to speak right now. I’d highly advise against it unless you begin with I can tell you what happened and why. Can anyone do that?”
The room was silent. Christo felt the effort they made to be still.
“Go,” he said quietly.
And they did.
Next week in Chapter 19, “Tree girl,” Holly stays over at Takeda’s place; Takeda takes a call from his mother.