As the men file out of the room, Rabbi Henriques asks Rabbi Oren, "Has Yonah arrived?"
Oren nods. "Early this morning. Hopefully, he managed to get at least a good couple hours of sleep."
Masada Enclave, New Georgetown, South Carolina
10:12 a.m., 21 October 2096
Yonah takes in the view from his window. Masada Enclave—a self-sufficient, self-contained, Jewish city of nearly one hundred and fifty thousand, populated by Orthodox, Conservatives, Hasidim, Judeo-Spanish, Arab, Persian, and a smaller community of Goth Jews. Many miles of open wasteland surrounds them, and the closest Pagan tek-city is hundreds of miles away. Passage to and from any enclave is always dangerous. But once inside its thirteen-foot walls, it is deceptively non-tek, looking like quaint shtetals—the Yiddish word and universal colloquial for any "nice, little Jewish town," which nowadays is a full-fledged city. Their defense systems—from the invisible tek-jammer defense dome to retractable laser turrets and launchers on the wall to robotic drones and sentries strategically hidden throughout the city—are state-of-the-art and deadly. The perimeter of the wasteland leading to the enclave is also mined and booby-trapped with miniature killing robots.
Yonah's work takes him into the tek-cities often, but many Jews never leave their enclave. Maybe they will venture out to visit family and friends in another enclave. Some may even take a vacation to a Christian enclave—just to see. Amish and Mennonite ones are popular. The more adventurous may go visiting in the Catholic-held cities in Northern Mexico, Christian-controlled Africa (the African Collective), or the islands of the Shogun Christian in Japan. Beyond that, there is no other outside world.
They had his single room reserved at the main guest hotel not far from the wall. Yonah declined the offer of a late night meal from the proprietor. All he wanted was sleep in a warm bed and he did so as soon as he got to his room—the door opening automatically as it read his biometrics and closed after him—and his head hit the pillow.
The morning sun was all that it took to wake him ahead of his wristband alarm. From his three-story window, he could survey the city for many miles around. Farming towers were the farthest away—always shrouded in man-made clouds for security reasons. They are football-stadium-sized structures with gigantic multiple levels where the enclave grew its fruits and vegetables for its population and for outside sale. The crops are maintained, watered, and monitored by a full network of agro-bots, but primary farming is always done by humans. "You can use machines as long as you never forget how to do the work without them," he said to his own children to break them out of their anti-machine, "machines are the Devil" phase. There are also the sounds of people below.
He thoroughly enjoys the casual walk through the busy, almost cosmopolitan streets of the enclave. He hears mostly Hebrew, but there are conversations in Russian, Spanish, some German, some French, Arabic, and Persian. English remains the international language. Orthodox Jewish men, like him, are dressed all in black—long buttoned coats, shoes, pants, and kippot on their heads, but he wears a flat black cowboy hat instead. All Orthodox men have full beards and mustaches, as does he—his bushy black beard and mustache are going gray. Orthodox Jewish women wear plain clothes, covering from neckline to knee, modest tops, not too bright, and dark-colored skirts. Married women wear hats or wigs; single women do not. Conservative Jews dress more modern—suit and tie, or business casual; men often wear kippot in public. Arab and Persian Jews like bright colors, colorful kippot, and colorful head scarves for women, whether married or single. Judeo-Spanish also love bright colors, but often stick to earth tones—oranges and yellows. Men's kippot are always yellow or brown. One can tell Goth Jews—Faithers' chief intel gatherers in the tek-cities—from their dyed jet-black hair, no matter if they are dressing Conservative or Orthodox. Everyone greets Yonah with a "shalom" or "boker tov." He loves to be among his people—all God's tribes of Abraham, Moses, and Jacob.
It may be Sabbath for Protestants, Catholics, and Mormons, but Sunday is the traditional day for family food shopping at the market and the week's errands for Jews. Single people, couples, families, and pets—dogs and many more cats—are everywhere. Occasionally, he sees someone with a tek-rifle strapped over their shoulder—they even come with fashionable holo-skins these days to match one's clothing colors of the day. Like his own enclave in Florida, he imagines that every male and female above the age of thirteen is armed with some type of weapon or device.
He arrives at his destination within the enclave—the civilian government complexes. Here is where he will meet with the Jewish Continuum—the unified governing body of all the Orders of Judaism.
Yonah sits quietly on a bench in the hallway, his hat resting next to him. The walls are deep burgundy with a lamp about every three feet, and both the floor and ceiling are white marble. His piercing blue eyes stare straight ahead, his hands clasped in his lap. He is Yonah of the Orthodox Jewish Order, but he is also the famous Cowboy Rabbi.
A door opens at the far end of the hallway and a young man, almost a boy, runs to him. Dressed in black pants, a black vest over a white shirt—the tassels of a wool tallit katan dangling from beneath his vest—a black kippah on his head, and wearing glasses. He skids to a stop.
"Sorry, Mr. Cowboy Rabbi—"
Yonah stands, almost laughing. "I'm not wearing my double holsters, so I'm not the Cowboy Rabbi today. Please, call me Yonah. And shalom. What's your name, young man?"
The boy smiles. "Shalom, Mr. Yonah. I am Yosef."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Yosef. Slow down and take a breath. The Messiah hasn't arrived yet."
The boy grins. "I'll take you there." He points down the hall. "They are waiting for you."
11:02 a.m.
Yonah is greeted with separate hugs by three men—Rabbi Oren, a senior elder in the Orthodox Jewish Order; Rabbi Henriques, senior rabbi in the Judeo-Spanish Order; and Mr. Tova, a senior leader of the Conservative Jewish Order. The men help themselves to food from the back table in the conference room, and the same boy enters with fresh pitchers of water and juice, placing them on the table before quietly leaving and closing the main door. The men take seats at the circular table in the center of the room and spend ten minutes or so making small talk.
"It's official?" Yonah asks.
"It is." Mr. Tova nods. "The Israeli Order will be no more by years' end, next month even."
Yonah shakes his head, incredulous. "I never thought I'd ever see it. It's been spoken of, but I never thought they would agree to it in the end with such intense feelings, even today. Not in my lifetime."
"People used to say that the Fall of Israel could never happen," Oren says, "because of God, because of the fact it was a gem in the Middle East. And like every corner of the Middle East, it would last until the end of time when even the sands of the desert would turn to dust. I always said that we were an oasis of the West stuck in the center of the Middle East and when the Fall of Western Europe happened it was only a matter of when, not if, it would come upon us too."
"We were separated from our Homeland once before. Eight hundred years. And we survived. Our enemies did not. It will be so again," Henriques says.
"We are all the Israeli Order now—the whole of the Jewish Continuum—in our hearts and souls, forever," Oren says.
"Yes, we are." Yonah nods. "Which Orders are getting the most of their members?"
"The Conservatives," Rabbi Oren answers, "and the Shamar Order. After that, it's the African Jewish Order and Mizrahi."
"Don't forget the thirty thousand joining the Judeo-Spanish Order," Rabbi Henriques adds with a smile. "And the Orthodox are taking in several thousand too."
"Mr. Yonah." Rabbi Oren's tone signals that the small talk is over. "Is your mind firm about presenting your proposal at this time?"
"There is never a best time in Faith World with the dangers we face."
"True, but there are better times. The Mormons excommunicated half their entire Order. The entire Continuum was pulled into what could on
ly be called a mini-war, their own Mormon civil war. This fission bomb detonation business in the Russian Bloc. More troubling is the disappearance of the entire East Orthodox Christians and the Behemoth Project."
"Do we know anything more?" Yonah asks. "We have the best resources in the world and not one of our overseas assets can tell us what happened to them?"
"No. No one. They've disappeared and not even the Magi can tell us how or where. It's quite shocking, for many reasons, that half a million people can disappear."
"We'll never stop investigating," Mr. Tova says.
"Was it the Russians? The Caliphate?" Yonah asks.
"No one knows," Oren says.
"We're looking at all the superpowers, other nations, and even these Internationalists too," Mr. Tova says.
"None of us will stop looking for them. All the Orders are involved," Henriques says.
"With all of these issues, the upcoming full Continuum meeting already has a full agenda," Oren continues. "And the Catholics will not postpone their official selection ceremonies of Father Marcos as their new pope."
"It's going to be big," Rabbi Henriques says. "And a bigger security nightmare. One that they're not even accustomed to."
"The Continuum will be providing resources and so will the Magi," Mr. Tova adds.
"Good," Yonah says. "I do know it's not the best time by any means, but I believe my proposal is essential. I've put it off for a couple of years now, but this civil war of the Mormons, and the security threats to the Catholic Order's upcoming papal ceremonies, show that we're missing a needed tactical force. I wish to move forward as planned and see what the response of our Continuum is first."
Rabbi Oren nods. "Your proposal is both thorough and impressive. We read it several times."
Mr. Tova says as he stands, "Let's go see the parents."
Net-Comm Room
4:00 p.m., 21 October 2096
Yonah, Oren, Mr. Tova, and Henriques stand in a circular room with every inch of its walls, floor, and ceiling a shiny black surface—all holo-vid-screens, and a single light shines down on them from a floating, spherical photo-drone. They all face one way, standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.
In front of them, flickering light comes out of the blackness. A flashing green dot appears first, then dozens, hundreds of thousands, and millions, then billions, and more. The images of the attendees are all being beamed in from within Freespace—the corner of the Net not created, run, or monitored by governments. The code becomes several people standing in front of them.
Two of the men are Mizrahi—Arab or Persian—from their bright traditional clothes and kippot, fuller beards and darker skin; and the third bearded man is dressed all in white attire with a white kippah. The woman is dressed business casual in purple, with shoulder-length, curly hair. All the holo-identities have a slight illumination to them.
One of the figures glows.
"I will commence this impromptu executive meeting of the Jewish Continuum. I, Tova Ben-Hurion of the Conservative Jewish Order. Hi, hon."
Mr. Tova smiles. "Hi, hon."
The glowing figure of Tova continues, "Rabbi Kanter of the Shamar Order, Rabbi Haza of the Arabic Jewish Order, Rabbi Nahai of the Persian Jewish Order; in live form at Masada, Rabbi Oren of the Orthodox Jewish Order, Rabbi Henriques of the Judeo-Spanish Order, my husband, Mr. Tova, also of the Conservative Jewish Order, and presenting is Yonah, also of the Orthodox Jewish Order. The Hasidim and African Orders are absent. Shalom, Yonah. Please begin."
"Thank you, Tova," Yonah begins. "And thank you, Round Table members. I am very cognizant of the upcoming full Continuum meeting regarding the serious events of the last few months. However, I believe this is precisely the time to move forward with my proposal.
"Each religious order has its own paramilitary force and we all readily and frequently work with the forces of every other Continuum member. But what we don't have is a paramilitary force for the full Continuum itself, made up of members from each Continuum member. The events of last August show us that such a force is long overdue. It would have a rotating leadership assignment structure, have both light-infantry and heavy-infantry capabilities, and most importantly, it could be deployed as needed by the Continuum. The Mormon's civil war should not have involved individual Continuum members—we put rules in place to prevent such things before we formed the Continuum and we were the Resistance. We were never supposed to get involved in the internal strife of another Order, let alone a civil war. The circumstances of the Mormon Order were unique, I acknowledge that, but we should have had coalition forces for the Continuum to use."
"Tell me, Yonah, how did you come up with this proposal?" the glowing figure of Rabbi Kanter asks. "Everyone knows you as the Cowboy Rabbi and one of the founders of the North American Underground Railroad. The proposal you submitted for review is very detailed."
"We have already done similar with the Underground Railroad. It is, at its core, a coalition of Jews, Protestants, and Catholics. Other Continuum members provide key support, including even the I-R-A. We can rescue slaves and relocate them from any point on the planet. My proposal is to replicate that coalition principle that we already utilize for the Underground Railroad and do the same for the Continuum."
"Do you have a name for this coalition?" Rabbi Nahai asks.
"You know I'm partial to cowboys. I was thinking of the Cowboy Coalition. Rangers seemed too bland to me."
"How many personnel would you propose starting with?" a glowing figure of Tova asks.
"A mere force of a thousand to begin with and expand as needed from there. With the Round Table's approval, I can get started at the full Continuum meeting."
"Do you have anything more to add?" Tova asks.
"No, my proposal alone suffices, but I can happily expand on any of the detail within it, if needed."
Tova's image says, "We'll discuss it among ourselves."
The holo-images of the attendees go out of phase for a few minutes. The men in the room wait quietly when the executive board returns to normal resolution.
"We approve the proposal," Tova says. "You can proceed as you see fit."
"Thank you," Yonah says. "Oren did mention that the Hasidim won't be able to participate."
"Nor will we," Rabbi Kanter's image interjects. "The Shamar Order has taken the lead on the new One Project. In some ways, it will be far more dangerous than your efforts forming this Cowboy Coalition."
Yonah is visibly displeased. "Truthfully, I believe the project is ill-advised."
"Perhaps. But it's either now or never," Kanter answers.
"Many of us would be happy with never."
"We understand, in the starkest way, the concerns of the Community. But we believe we have a vetting process that will satisfy all. And you might know him, but Mr. Elliott Finegold will be point on the preliminaries."
"Oh yes, Elliott. He's sharp. Good point person."
"The Hasidim will also be forming a new tactical force," Tova says to Yonah. "The Dog Corps."
"Hasidim hate dogs," Yonah says.
Some of the Jewish Continuum members laugh.
"Not anymore," Tova says. "These Hasidim will be training to fight with them—canine teams; one-man, one-dog tactical teams, both with robotic suit enhancements."
Yonah smiles. "Wonders never cease."
"And," Rabbi Oren adds, "teams of Hasidim and Orthodox women will be joining our new Continuum Medical Corps with the Amish and Mennonites. You didn't think you were the only one with the good ideas."
"Far from it."
"Gentlemen, thank you, and Yonah, good luck with your new endeavor," Tova says. "We all look forward to seeing this new Cowboy Coalition of yours. See you at the full Continuum Meeting."
The four men say goodbyes, echoed by the holo-attendees before their images vanish.
Kibbutzim, Idaho
8:02 a.m., 23 October 2096
In former Jewish Israel there were many kibbutzim—self-sustaining, collectiv
e communities that were traditionally centered on agriculture. After the Fall of Jewish Israel, millions of Jews re-settled all across America, mostly in the South and West. However, some of the more radical elements settled in the Northwest. Kibbutzim here are enclaves arranged in a network of compounds, each with a specific purpose: living, agriculture, livestock, water, defense, schools, vehicles, etcetera.
Elliott Finegold is far from militaristic—that honor would go to the Jewish skinheads known as the Wolf Pack, the lead tactical force for the Jewish Continuum. But he sometimes considers himself more dangerous—he's a lawyer. The forty-something counselor sits in his standard two-piece black office suit with a solid white shirt and black tie. He is a senior member of the Conservative Jewish Order, but keeps his offices here when not in the tek-cities arguing a case in the courts.
In his general sitting room is a white-haired man, one of the many judges that he has had the pleasure, and displeasure, of arguing before many years ago. Up until the 14th of June, 2080, sixteen years ago, the man was a Justice of the United States Supreme Court. That was the day the US Constitution was abolished, and soon after the American President abolished them—the entire US Supreme Court itself, in favor of a new Supreme Court under the new Rule of Law.
The two men sip their coffees, sitting across from each other with a small glass table between them.
Stein leans forward and declares, "I want in."
Elliott laughs. "Didn't you try to have me put in jail a few times?"
"More than a few times. Didn't you deserve it? Aren't all lawyers sons of bitches?"
"Some might say the same about judges."
"No, some would say worse of judges."
"In your courtroom I think I was doing what any zealous lawyer does."
"Meaning you were being as obnoxious and sneaky as possible. Well, I didn't put you in jail—though you deserved it. I still want in."
"What does that even mean? 'You want in.' You're a Pagan."
Pure Conspiracy (The After Eden Series): The Genesis of World War III Page 2