Call Me Joe

by Martin Van Es

  Happy that he had done enough, he put on a fashionable pair of thick-rimmed, round glasses which would be the most distinctive feature people would mention when they were later asked to describe him. He opened a new phone and inserted a SIM card. Once it was working he held it up and took a picture of his new face. He then punched in a number and waited for the ringing to stop.

  “I need another all-areas studio pass for the video meeting,” he said without introducing himself. “I’m sending a photo with the relevant details.”

  “It can’t be done,” the voice at the other end replied. “I have already done enough. I owe your bosses nothing. There is nothing else I can do.”

  “This is the last request,” he said quietly. “You do not have a choice unless you are ready to be exposed for what you have already done for us. Once this is done it will all be over.”

  “I’m serious,” the voice protested, “I can’t do any more. I think people suspect.”

  “I’m sending the picture and details now,” he said, as if the other person had not spoken. “Finish the job and then you will be free.”

  He sent the picture and the details, then dropped the phone into the acid. The all-areas studio pass was delivered to a safe address the following day and the same woman who had accompanied him to lunch in the hotel restaurant picked it up and brought it to him.

  Fifty

  The broadcast was due to take place at midnight in New Zealand. Screens had been set up in the studio for Joe to talk simultaneously to the twelve most powerful world leaders. He had insisted that the broadcast went out live to the whole world so that there would be minimal opportunities for misinformation to filter out before everyone had had a chance to listen, watch and judge for themselves. The advisors to many of the leaders were nervous as to how their bosses were going to come across in comparison to both Joe and rival leaders.

  “I’m great at talking on my feet,” the American President assured all those who warned him to be careful about losing his temper or sounding out of touch with the mood of the world’s population. “This is where I excel. I’ve done it before, so many times! We are going to make this guy look so stupid!”

  When he had first heard that the broadcast would be happening at eight in the morning in Washington he had been momentarily unsettled. Early mornings were not his best time. His staff suggested that he arrange to be woken at six so that he would have a couple more hours to prepare his arguments, but he brushed the idea aside.

  “No need,” he said. “I know all the arguments backwards.”

  In Moscow, the broadcast would be happening in the middle of the afternoon and in the early evening in Beijing. The presidents in both countries had set aside the whole day to ensure that they were fully briefed on all the topics that Joe was likely to bring up. The very best translators were lined up to sit with them, although Joe had assured the organisers that he would be able to understand everyone in their native languages. The broadcasters were arranging for simultaneous text translations to appear at the bottom of the live pictures, with voice translations available as an extra option for those who required it.

  News of the broadcast had spread worldwide and virtually no one was asleep apart from the very young and the very old. The excitement which had built up for the first question-and-answer broadcast had grown even more intense with the additional attraction of seeing how their leaders justified themselves and how they reacted to Joe and to his plans.

  Every citizen in every country felt that they were now involved in the search for solutions to all the most pressing global issues. They now believed they would be able to make a contribution to creating a better world for their children and their grandchildren and many as yet unborn generations in the future, whether that involved planting trees or cleaning rivers, building better housing or helping other people to lead healthier and happier lives. Even the smaller countries, whose leaders were not part of the event, felt that they were now directly implicated in whatever the outcomes of this broadcast might be.

  Joe, conscious that it would be easy to cause offence to the other participants in the discussion, made sure that he was the first to arrive at the studio. He did not want to give them any reason to believe that he considered that he was the star of the show – even if the viewing public might see it that way. The technicians were still setting up and he went round all of them, shaking their hands, introducing himself to each of them in turn and exchanging a few words of gratitude for their help. Many of them fell to their knees or bent low to kiss the hem of his coat, his hands or his feet.

  When he came to a bearded man with a shaved head and thick-rimmed, round glasses, Joe held onto his hand for a little longer than the others.

  “I am very grateful for everything you will be doing here tonight,” he said, still holding the man’s hand and staring directly into his eyes. “It is important that you know that.”

  “You are very welcome,” the Ukrainian smiled, making no attempt to avert his gaze or release his grip on Joe’s hand, aware that although there was no way he could have known he was Ukrainian, Joe was talking to him in his own language. He did not incline his head or show the slightest sign of either reverence or shame. He had a job to do and he knew that he could not afford to allow a scintilla of doubt into his mind.

  “There is a good chance that together we can make a big difference with whatever we choose to do and say today,” Joe continued, still not releasing the Ukrainian from his grip.

  “I hope so,” the Ukrainian replied. “Everyone has their part to play.”

  “Indeed they do,” Joe said, finally letting go.

  One by one the screens on the walls around the studio were crackling into life as the various leaders arrived at the other ends of the broadcast. Live outside broadcast cameras had been allowed into the White House, the Kremlin and every other leader’s designated place of work.

  “Can anyone hear me?” the Prime Minister of India enquired. “I can’t hear anything.”

  “I can hear you, sir,” Joe replied in Meitei, the local language of the Manipur region of India.

  “Is this going to take long?” the Australian Prime Minister enquired.

  “How long can you spare to save mankind, Prime Minister?” the German Chancellor asked. “Do you have somewhere else to go?”

  “My bed,” the Australian growled.

  The American President’s advisers held him back from the camera for as long as possible, wanting him to be the last to arrive, but eventually his impatience overwhelmed their abilities to control him and he sat down behind his desk, grinning into the camera.

  “This won’t take long,” he assured all those listening.

  Once he knew that everyone else was there, the Russian President counted to ten and then stepped in front of his camera. His expression was unreadable and a rustle of discomfort seemed to run through all the other contributors, as if a cat had just stalked up to a bird feeder.

  “So, young man…” The American President had been granted the honour of opening the discussion by the others as soon as the ‘on’ button was pressed, all of whom understood that he would be flattered by such a gesture of respect. “You think you know better how to run things than all of us put together?”

  Joe looked around the screens at the array of angry faces staring back at him. “I would certainly like to help if I can,” he said.

  “We were all democratically elected!” The American slapped his palm on the desk, making everyone jump. “We are the choice of the people. Who the hell are you?”

  “I am the Son of God,” Joe said simply. “Sent to show you the way. It will be up to you to choose whether or not to follow.”

  “Damn right it will be up to us.” The American ignored the warning waves coming from his aides behind the camera, advising him to keep calm, and not set out on a rant.

&
nbsp; “I don’t think it will help us to become aggressive,” the Canadian Prime Minister interrupted. “This is too serious a matter for theatrical displays.”

  “Don’t patronise me!” the American warned. “I am warning you. I will not tolerate it.”

  “Enough!” The Russian President’s voice was not raised but it still silenced the American. “The things you are suggesting, Joe, are ridiculous. Do you not think with all our years of experience in power we have not tried all of them? Do you not think we would have implemented them years ago if they were possible? Do you imagine that any of us are reluctant to eradicate poverty or improve education and healthcare for the people we love and serve?”

  “I think you may have been distracted by other more immediate priorities,” Joe replied diplomatically. “You all had personal ambitions to fulfil, personal debts to repay – and I don’t just mean financial – you all had elections to win. You have not had the ability to stand back and look at the state of the whole of mankind and work out what the best way forward might be for the entire world. If you had then you would never threaten one another with nuclear weapons, or invade one another or be so slow to send help during times of famine or natural catastrophe. You would not have continued destroying forests and raping the Earth of its mineral resources.

  “None of you have looked beyond your own terms in office and your own legacies in order to see what is best for the long-term future of mankind and the planet. You have not listened to the wise advice of those who have…”

  “Are you talking about your mafia of Twelve?” the Australian enquired. “Are they the ones with the ‘wise advice’ we are supposed to have been listening to?”

  “Mafia?” Joe smiled. “That is an interesting word for you to use, Prime Minister, because there are a lot of people who see many of you in the same light.”

  “Joe, Joe,” the Canadian interrupted, “that is not helpful language to use.”

  The Chinese President had been silent up till that moment, but the word “Mafia” cracked his glassy façade like a bullet. “Listen!” he snapped. “Why are you all even willing to talk with this man? We are the leaders of the world and he is nobody. There is no dignity to be had from talking to such a person. He is deliberately trying to ferment unrest amongst people who are striving for peaceful lives.”

  “I think you are right, Mr President,” the Indian Prime Minister agreed. “This is a confidence trickster who has managed to fool many people. We must not allow him to pull the wool over our eyes any longer.”

  “Gentlemen please,” the German Chancellor said, attempting to calm things.

  “You want us to change everything that we are doing and hand over power to you and your band of bogus professors?” the Russian President hissed.

  “You need to rethink all your long-term plans for mankind and for the planet, yes,” Joe confirmed. “And you need an international government that unites everyone, removing all nationalistic bickering from the equation.”

  All over the world the population watched in horror as they saw many of the people who were meant to be leading them lose their tempers and shout abuse and mockery at Joe, like a bunch of school bullies ganging up on a new boy in the playground. Several of them started to talk over one another, all of them shouting at Joe, accusing him of being a fraud, telling him that he might think he was fooling the world, but all the time assuring him that he did not fool any of them in their infinite wisdom. The voices of reason could no longer make themselves heard over the din. The more they shouted the more most of them sounded like old men who had lost touch with the real world, like drunks in a bar at closing time, railing against a world that no longer seemed to be going in the direction they expected or the direction that benefited them. Their failing powers, growing paranoia and obvious inability to understand what was happening became crystal clear to the billions of people watching.

  “Quiet!” Joe held his arms up high and to their own surprise they all fell silent simultaneously.

  “If the one thing that is stopping you from doing the right things for the world is your lack of faith in me, perhaps I need to remind you just what your God is capable of. Have you already forgotten what it was like the day the sun went out?”

  “And you’re claiming that was something to do with you?” The American President could hardly contain his glee. “Okay then, let’s see what you can do. If you are the Son of God, turn out the sun. Show us all your best tricks, Sonny!”

  “Very well,” Joe said. “It is done.”

  There was a few seconds of silence and then the assembled heads on the video screens all started to laugh and taunt him. “You see,” they cried, “nothing! It is all a bluff. Now the whole world can see that you are a fraud!”

  “What do you say now?” the Russian President asked.

  “I say it will take eight minutes for the darkness to reach Earth,” Joe replied calmly. “It is a simple matter of physics.”

  “I’m not wasting any more time on this man,” the American roared, standing up as if about to storm out of the room.

  “We will wait.” The Chinese President had regained his usual level of calm. “What is eight minutes when balanced against the fate of the world?”

  “Wise words, sir,” Joe gave a small bow of respect towards the Chinese screen.

  “But after eight minutes,” the Russian joined in, “when we have proved that you are a fraud, we will need you to confess to your followers that you have duped them.”

  “I can’t believe you all are indulging him,” the American yelled, throwing himself back down into his chair, having been made aware by the frantic sign language of his advisors from behind the camera that he could not be seen to be the only one to walk away from the broadcast and that no one else looked as if they were planning to go anywhere.

  For the following eight minutes the twelve leaders continued to bicker and shout abuse, with their translators struggling to keep up at the same time, increasing the number of voices that the bewildered world population had to try to disentangle. Advisors behind all twelve of the outside broadcast cameras desperately tried to calm their charges down in order to make them seem like the grown-ups at what was increasingly sounding like an unruly children’s party.

  When eight minutes was finally up darkness fell on the whole world and a stunned silence descended on the studio. Joe took a deep breath and sat down on the floor, waving away the assistants who rushed forward with chairs for him.

  The satellite pictures flickered as the power sources around the world surged. The Ukrainian took advantage of the darkness to move a few steps closer to Joe, his eyes focused like lasers on his target, refusing to be distracted by anything else that was happening around him. Everyone was too spellbound by what was happening to look in his direction.

  The Russian President’s eyes had lit up, like a lizard disturbed by danger while basking in the sun. “It is possible,” he said to the other leaders, “that he knew this was going to happen and timed his threat to the minute.”

  “Did any of our scientists predict this?” the Indian Prime Minister asked. “Were any of you warned this might happen again?”

  They all muttered that they knew nothing and the voices of advisors could be heard shouting from the background on every screen.

  “So what exactly is it that you want us to do?” the Chinese President asked quietly.

  “Today, Mr President,” Joe said, “you could make the first move by releasing all your political prisoners, starting with Liang Zhang.”

  “We can do that,” the President replied without even taking the time to look in his advisors’ direction.

  “You’re not going to give in to this blatant blackmail, are you?” the American shouted.

  “Are you going to explain to your people how you are willing to end the world just to hold on to power, Mr P
resident?” the Chinese President asked. “Are you willing to leave them dwelling in the darkness for ever?”

  “We need to work together on this,” the British Prime Minister chipped in. “It could be the start of something great.” But no one was listening to him.

  The leaders gradually disappeared from their screens as they conferred with their military leaders and the world was not able to see their rising levels of panic. In every country the military leaders were having to point out that none of them were in a position to be able to re-ignite the sun, however generous their armaments budgets might have been in recent years. It did not take long for some of the political leaders to realise that they had no bargaining tools with which to counter Joe’s ultimatum, or for the military to realise that against a force powerful enough to extinguish the sun it did not matter how much money they could raise from other sources, they would still be an impotent force.

  As the minutes ticked by in total darkness, Joe sat quietly on the floor with his eyes closed. It looked as if he was meditating, which brought a smile of approval from Tanzeel, as he sat quietly in a corner of the studio which had been reserved for observers. The watching religious leaders whom Joe had met on the island all knelt to pray to their Gods that all the political leaders would now fully accept that they were helpless to do anything when actually faced with the power of God and that they would choose to release mankind from the threat of permanent darkness.

  One by one the political leaders reappeared on the screens. It was as if someone had let the air out of their egos. They suddenly looked ancient and tired as they begged for mercy and for Joe to show more understanding of their “difficult” positions.