- Brighter than a thousand ... Great God, brighter than a thousand ... thousand suns!
The screen went out, a light came on in the hall.
I saw and looked at Jake. Jake was looking at me.
“What an abomination,” I finally said. “I'm just sick.”
- You do not agree to show it to people, right, BD? Jake asked quietly.
I quickly figured it out. The number took about four minutes - four and a half ... perhaps you can try.
“You're right, Jake,” I decided. - We will not show people this nonsense. We cut out the number and squeeze some more advertising. Time will be fully covered.
“You don't get it, BD,” Jake answered. “The contract Herm has imposed on the studio does not allow us to change anything.” We show everything as it is or do not show anything at all. And the film is all like that.
- What does it mean - all that?
Jake squirmed in his chair.
- These guys ... you see, BD, they are sick ...
- Patients?
“They ... you see, they have an obsession, they are in love with the atomic bomb.” All that they do is hit at one point.
- That is, it means that the whole film is like that?
- Exactly, BD And we show these maniacs for exactly an hour or not at all.
- Wow.
I wanted to tell Jake: "Burn the tape and write off a million dollars at a loss." But I knew that these words would cost me a place in the studio. And I also knew that the door would not have time to close behind me, and in my place there would already be a man who would not go against the will of his superiors. The authorities, apparently, are simply fulfilling the will of an even higher authority. Therefore, everything is useless. And I have no choice.
“There's nothing to be done, Jake,” I said. - We will show everything as it is.
“I don't work here anymore,” said Jake Pitkin, a man who was not at all famous for his free-thinking and independent views.
10 days to an hour "h" ...
“But then we will have to violate the nuclear test ban treaty,” I said.
“We will call it peaceful uses of atomic energy, and let the Russians then scream as much as they like,” the deputy minister answered. Apparently, the news stunned him no less than me.
- This is madness ...
“Perhaps,” the deputy minister agreed, “but you got the order, General Carson, and I got the order too.” From above. And on the fourth of July at twenty hours fifty eight minutes local time, you will drop an atomic bomb with a force of fifty kilotons in the outlined square of the Yucca Valley.
- But the audience ... operational groups from television ...
“They will be at a safe distance from the affected area - at least two miles.” I hope the strategic military command is capable of ensuring such accuracy in experimental conditions.
I straightened up.
“Any strategic aviation crew will cope with the task, I have no doubt about that,” I replied. - I doubt that the assigned task is necessary. I doubt that the order given is reasonable.
The deputy minister shrugged, grinned wryly:
- You are not alone.
“How, then, do you also not know for what purpose all this is being conceived?”
“I know only what I thought it necessary to inform the Minister of Defense, and I have a suspicion that he knows only some part.” The Pentagon has long been demanding the use of nuclear weapons to put an end to the war in Asia, and the loudest of all you require it, that is, the command of the strategic air forces. So, a few months ago, the president gave conditional consent to the use of nuclear weapons during the next rainy season.
I whistled. What does all this mean: has the government listened to the voice of reason or gone crazy?
- What determines the final consent of the president?
“From public opinion,” the deputy minister answered. - More precisely, from whether a sharp turn in public opinion will occur or not. The President agreed to authorize the use of tactical nuclear weapons, provided that at least sixty-five percent of the population would approve of the use of nuclear weapons by the deadline of a few months, and no more than twenty percent would actively oppose.
- All clear. They came up with a trick to avert the eyes of the chiefs of staff.
“General Carson,” the deputy minister frowned, “you apparently don't follow the mood in the country at all.” After the first performance of the Four Horsemen on television, a public opinion poll showed that the use of nuclear weapons was approved by twenty-five percent of Americans. After the second speech, the number of supporters increased to forty-one percent. Now there are forty-eight percent, and only thirty-two percent of active opponents of the atomic bomb.
- You want to say that some pop band ...
“The pop group and the cult created around it, general.” This cult takes on the character of mass hysteria. The Riders already have imitators. Have you not seen the badges that everyone is wearing now?
- With the image of the atomic cloud and the call "Do it!"?
The deputy minister nodded.
- Neither you nor I know how it all began: either the National Security Council decided to use the psychopathic hobby of the “Riders” to influence public opinion, or the “Four Riders” in general is his creature, and now it's not important, because that the goal has been achieved - the hysteria caused by the “Riders” succumbed to those very strata of the population who had previously most strongly opposed the use of nuclear weapons, that is, hippies, students, and youth of draft age. The protests against the war and against the use of nuclear weapons have almost stopped. It takes quite a bit for sixty-five percent of supporters to become a reality. There is an opinion - it seems, the president expressed it - that one more performance of the Four Horsemen - this figure will even be blocked.
“So the president is behind all this?”
“Who, except the president, has the right to authorize the atomic bomb drop, think for yourself,” the deputy minister answered. “We gave permission to broadcast the Riders' concert from the Yucca Valley live.” The expenses are paid by a large military concern, extremely interested in receiving defense orders. We gave permission to allow viewers to perform. And of course, the president is behind all this, it cannot be otherwise.
- And the performance ended with an atomic bomb explosion?
- That's right.
“I once saw these same Horsemen,” I said, “together with my guys, they were just watching TV. Damn strange feeling ... I kept waiting for the red phone to ring. And I wanted him to ring.
“Yes, I had about the same feeling,” said the deputy minister. - Sometimes it seems to me that those whose will it all happens are themselves victims of hysteria ... that now the "Riders" direct the actions of people who used to use them for their own purposes ... the circle has closed .. . But I'm tired of something lately. We are all so tired of this war. To get rid of her soon.
“Yes, we all want to get rid of her by any means,” I agreed.
60 minutes to an hour "h" ...
I received an order: the entire crew of the Backfish submarine should watch the fourth performance of the Four Horsemen. At first glance, the order might have seemed strange - why should all the personnel of the submarine fleet equipped with Polaris nuclear missiles watch some program on television, but if you think about it, it will become clear that the order is dictated by concern for the morale of the troops.
Serving on nuclear submarines is not an easy task; not all nerves can withstand it. We spend almost all our time to reach the heights of art, which we can never apply. The accumulation of nuclear potential is a reasonable policy, it restrains aggressive aspirations, but the people in the nuclear forces are affected by tremendous tension, which in the past was further aggravated by the fact that the mission assigned to us did not cause sympathy among our compatriots.
Therefore, the establishment of a more favorable attitude towards us in the cou
ntry, which everyone associates with the performance of The Four Horsemen, has made these musicians almost idols of the nuclear submarine fleet. When they sing, it seems to us that they sing primarily for us, that they turn directly to us.
I decided to watch the program at the missile control center, where the combat team should be ready at any minute of the day or night to release it by order of the Polarisa. I have a strong, indissoluble connection with the guys on duty here, which I do not feel with the other members of my crew. Near the console we are not the captain and his subordinates, no, here we are the head and hands. And if the order comes, it will be fulfilled by my will and their obedience. At such a moment it's easier when you're not alone ...
Everyone looks at the TV screen, which is installed above the main control panel.
On the screen is a tornado spiral chemically yellow against a chemically blue background. A viscous, dull buzz creeps in - in my opinion, a sitar and some kind of electronic instrument, and it seems to me that this is buzzing my head: the spiral crashes into the retina, my eyes hurt, but there is no power in the world that would make me take them away.
The voice speaks slowly and solemnly:
- Let everything be done ...
Another picks up:
- Let it happen now.
- Everything ... now ... everything ... now ... everything ... now ...
In my head I hear “all-now”, “all-now”, “all-now” hollowly, the screen starts to pulsate in different colors: “all” - a yellow whirlwind of a spiral flashes against a blue background, “ now ”- a green whirlwind on red ..." all-now-all-now-all-now-all-now ... "
“Now” is the screen, “everything” is me ... How strange it is, as if I are fighting against an invisible wall that stands between me and the screen, and my brain is squeezing a steel hoop, and I am trying to tear this hoop ... Tear it off? Why should I rip it off?
The screen pulsates faster, faster, there has not been a pause between “everything” and “now” for a long time, they have merged, the eye can't tolerate non-stop flickering, the image doesn't have time to erase from the retina, another, third, fourth is immediately applied to it ... no, so you can't, my head will now split ...
Singing and music breaks off, in front of us against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, “Four Horsemen” in their black robes, and a lonely voice sighs in peace:
- It happened ...
Now the camera is located directly above the Riders, who are standing on some kind of round platform. It slowly and smoothly turns up and to the side, and I see that this platform is located at the very top of a high tower, and around the tower there are thousands, tens of thousands of people, they sit right on the sand, which stretches to the horizon.
- And I, and you, and he ...
Yes, I am also one of this crowd, it streams from the screen and envelops me, it melts and flows like heated plastic.
- We all ...
Amazing, untold feeling! Music is faster, more ecstatic, more frenzied. Our BackFish - Does It Really Exist? The crowd slowly sways around me, the distance separating us has disappeared, I am with them, there, they are with me, here we are one being.
“We all ... we are together ... we performed this miracle!”
45 minutes to an hour "h" ...
Jeremy and I sat looking at the screen, forgetting about each other and about everything else. Although our shifts are short, but when you are here, in the bunker, under the multi-ton thickness of concrete, face to face with your partner and you have no other business, how to think gloomy thoughts and get on each other's nerves, sometimes you're at heart it becomes extremely filthy. We are considered the most balanced people in the world, in any case, they tell us that, and probably it is, because the world has not yet flown into tartarara. After all, so little is needed - all of a sudden, something rolled on the guys on duty at the “minutemans” consoles, they turned their keys in the starting locks, pressed the buttons and - done, the third world war has begun!
This thought is bad, it should not occur to us, otherwise I will begin to follow Jeremy, Jeremy will begin to follow me, it will turn into an obsession, a mania ... However, there is nothing to fear, we are too balanced and too keenly aware of the responsibility that lies with us. As long as we remember that we are supposed to experience something like a slight fear in the bunker, everything is in order.
Nevertheless, it is good that there is a TV. He does not allow us to forget about the outside world, he always reminds us that this world exists, otherwise it is too easy to believe that this bunker of ours is the only real world, and what is happening there, above, is nothing, which is not worth even think. Oh, it's bad when such thoughts come to your mind!
The Four Horsemen ... they help us deal with them. A person cannot endure such tension indefinitely, sometimes you want to spit on debt, responsibility and other concepts that have been put into us and end everything at once. But the Riders are a discharge for us, the tension is relieved with them painlessly and without harming anyone, you just let the wave flood over you and then quietly subside ... In my opinion, these guys are crazy, in them is the very madness that we have to by all means smother in yourself here, underground. Surrendering to this madness until the end while listening to The Riders is the surest guarantee that then you will not let it out of your power. Maybe for the same reason, many of us put on the “Do it!” Call signs when they rise to the ground.The authorities do not mind - therefore, they understand that this is just not a very funny joke with which we are trying to maintain our mood.
The same spiral that the transmission started on again flashed on the screen, again a low buzz crept. And I again dug into the television, as if the performance of the "Four Horsemen" and was not interrupted by advertising.
“... they performed a miracle.”
Their soloist's face is close-up, he looks right at me, he's next to me, like Jeremy, only more lively and real, and his eyes are such that it immediately becomes clear: you are in front of him with all your hidden thoughts in full view. There is a sharp, tearing strings of pizzicato on the double bass and the whistle of some kind of power tool, which makes goose bumps on my skin. And the "rider" grabs the guitar and begins to play - maliciously, with a twist. And to sing, only it doesn't seem like singing, but like a drunken swearing in an obscene tavern:
- I stabbed my mother, strangled my sister.
The guitar, scoffing, echoes rough, dark chords to him: like a naked vein, a huge swastika pulsates on the screen - red on black, black on red ...
The mocking face of the "rider" ...
- I crucified the puppy in the outhouse.
Guitar chords and a pulsating swastika ...
- I lit a fire and burned a kitten - let it squeal, let it squeal, let it squeal!
On the screen are large tongues of slowly flaming flame, and the voice is a groan of longing and despair:
“Red fire, a red bonfire dancing in my brain.” The red fire is burning me, the red fire in the brain. With a blowtorch, I burned my backs, panting from smoke and stench.
The face of a Vietnamese woman emerges from the fire, she screams through the village, trying to rip off her burning clothes.
“I understood then: man is crap in the mud of the globe!”
Footage from the Nuremberg: a moving swastika - a column of people waving torches ...
The broken swastika's fiery cross spreads out, again the “horseman" appears.
“How do you hate me, my brother!” The fire is beating in the brain ... But I still trample you, you bastard! The fire is beating in the brain ...
The face of the "rider" exuding animal hatred:
“And I don't give a damn about cries and cries crawling on the ground.” Yes, mother, I am a monster, I am an executioner!
Everywhere you can see the crowd, people wave their hands, shout silently. Rapid influx - faces, faces, faces, flickering, like in a kaleidoscope, distraught eyes, opened in the frenzy of the mouth.
- My
name ...
The face of the rider is superimposed on the faces of raging people:
- ... PERSON!
I look at Jeremy. He twirls in his hands a starting key hanging on his chest on a chain. His forehead is covered with drops of sweat. And suddenly it dawns on me that my face is covered in sweat, and a small copper key burns my palm ...
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