Yocto

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Forgetting the pointless violence, focusing on the real story, Jack headed to his office, his phone already ringing when he got there. Jack thought, as he went to pick up the phone, how could the news switch off the bee story to cover that robbery? Doesn’t the general public know that if all the bees die, some scientists have predicted that we have a mere four years left. That was the main story—and unless these dolts all got it soon, then there won’t be a later to report these stupid robberies.

  When he answered, he was informed that Secretary Copeland was being put through.

  Jack answered the phone, “Jack Zarifis here, Sir.”

  “Jack, how are your troops holding up?”

  “Truthfully, Sir, with this latest news, I would not be surprised to see some people around here going home to be with their families. If nothing else, a great hardship seems to be coming to everyone. Not only that, Sir, things are getting really tough to explain.”

  “Yes they are, Jack. I understand you sent Paul Jeffers and his team over to Synanto in Woodland. You ruffled some feathers with that one, Jack. A lot of questions are being asked and I’ve been getting more calls than you can imagine. They are starting to think we are looking at them, rather than looking out for them.

  “I know you worked there as an undergrad, which means you probably know a lot about them, but do you really think they could be capable of something this heinous, Jack? And if so, how?”

  Jack responded quickly and with confidence, “Those aren’t the only feathers I’m ruffling, Sir, believe me. The boys at DARPA have not even started with their investigation. You put me in charge, and sometimes leads come when you shake things up. David taught me that. Maybe someone will make a mistake.”

  There was a pause, “Jack, as you well know, Synanto is a private company. There are things that go on there we don’t know about. And some we do. This bee die-off, it’s not a new development. Every other extinction has been, but there are people that have been preparing for this eventuality. Suppose those people eliminated a large part of the competition, and then eliminated the very tiny beings that were so crucial to our survival after our animals were gone.

  “Suddenly, if someone had the answer to future pollination techniques, they would be a big hit. In fact, they would become bigger than big, they would control the world through food.”

  Jack thought about that, “Who have you told this theory to, Sir? Other than myself, of course.”

  “Just you, Jack, as I was in the process of getting to you when all this occurred.”

  “Well, first of all, I would keep that thought under wraps for now; that theory could make you their focus, Sir. And secondly, it sure does put them on the top of the suspect list. There must be more companies doing the same type of work; we need to compile a list. We also need to ascertain what sub-species die-off is attached to the bee event. Don’t forget, that has been the pattern in all the other cases.”

  “Sounds like we have a lot of work to do, Jack.”

  “Do I have your permission to have Jeffers ask to see the data on the non-bee pollination processes they have been working on? See what the response is?”

  Director Copeland thought about that, “Well, normally we would do an investigation, but we don’t have the months to waste, Son, so I agree with your assessment to be firm. Just be careful, the calls keep coming from higher and higher for us to back off. Their contention is that this is not the same Synanto Corporation that was founded over a hundred years ago, Jack. This group is into teaching farmers to grow more using less.”

  “Well, Sir, I would have to agree having worked there not five years ago, but our suspect list is short. Sir, I think you hit a chord while we were talking, and your solution eluded you. Next time I shake the bottom of the tree, you need to find out which voice is squawking the loudest at the top, and follow it. You said you were old friends with the Vice President. I would think now would be the time to grab at least one partner in this. If it goes all the way to the top, we’re screwed anyway, Sir.”

  After a long pause, the Secretary of Agriculture let Jack in on a little secret, “I know you are only twenty-eight years old, Jack. I’ve done a good job of keeping it out of the mainstream media, but I have got to tell you that you have now become one of my key advisors, and if anyone makes issue of your age to me, they can go fuck themselves.”

  Jack didn’t even realize how he was addressing the Secretary; that he was addressing him as a peer, but once his analytical mind started working, there was no shutting it off, and protocol went out the window.

  Jack’s cell phone buzzed and there was a text from Christy that read, “Just wanted to show off my new nightie.” There was a picture of her in the mirror posing for a selfie in what can only be described as a spectacular black maid’s outfit. He refocused on the matter at hand, but not easily, “Thank you, Sir, I appreciate the vote of confidence and will take that as a yes on letting Paul Jeffers talk to their on-site Regional Manager about sharing any pollination programs they have going that are not using bees. Watch the top of the tree, Sir, it might reveal a lead.”

  “You are wise beyond all your years, Jack. I also ran your theory by the boys at the Pentagon; it was a big hit.”

  “Was that sarcasm, Sir?”

  “No, Son, they are not looking for this to be anything other than an attack by a foreign threat, and truthfully, unlike us, they are not looking for a corporation to be pulling this off. They want war. The point being, they think your idea has a lot of merit. Just one problem, Jack, during the bee’s event there was no massive radio wave spike like the other events. As a matter of fact, it was just slightly higher than normal during their die-off, and which is currently still playing out.”

  Jack’s retort was immediate, “That would lend to my argument, Sir, as there is less mass to have to kill, thus less wave.”

  “Yes, Jack, but if the other animals ingested these flecks of wave facilitator, then how did the honeybees ingest it?”

  “I would say, Sir, that if we figure that out, then we have a chance to solve this whole thing, and it is surely a lot easier to breakdown an entire bee than it is a cow or a pig.”

  The Secretary complimented Jack, “You have a great analytical mind, Jack. Now tell me what you have done with your personnel distribution, why, and what is the plan beyond that. Then send it all to me in a summary by tomorrow morning. You know, Jack, with all the other things going on, we cannot lose our focus on keeping whatever faith is left out there in the system. People have to be able to still eat safe food.”

  Jack knew that meant he was not getting to see Christy’s nightie any time soon. He gave the “State of the Department” breakdown to Secretary Copeland, terminating the call as soon as possible for he had lots to do, like unleashing a very unpleasant individual on some people who probably didn’t deserve it; but someone was making this happen, and they had to find out who it was, and why?

  * * *

  The six astronauts sat silent. All were in shock. Not one had a thing to add, as the news they just received was unfathomable—their worst-case scenario. The supply ship on its way up to them exploded into a massive ball of fire twenty-two seconds after takeoff on the 9th of September. The Russian rocket that exploded was the most reliable in history, yet only Karen knew the real reason it had to happen—it was her curse striking again.

  Their mission was over. They all knew that the pre-flight checklist for re-entry to Earth took a week of coordinating with the professionals down in Kazakhstan. Although the Soyuz model re-entry vehicle had been in use since the sixties, re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere was never a given, and there were points in the ride, especially after their parachutes started to deploy at different stages that the ride could get terrifying for some, although exhilarating for others.

  They worked very closely with the engineers at Baikonur Cosmodrome. Some might say they were over meticulous, but really one could never be too meticulous when it came to re-entering the Earth’s atm
osphere. One tiny error on the engineer’s part and they could deflect off the Earth’s atmosphere and head out into the open expanse of the universe. Of course, for their part, they had to be ready to override any malfunctioning computers or procedures that might occur. All could be overridden except the main parachute.

  Karen was of the group that did not like roller coasters or thrill rides, so the apprehension had already started. Too many times she’d watched the video of how the Soyuz craft landed once “safely” back, and that was unsettling. The damn capsule actually crashed into the Earth. Sure they had six thrusters that helped soften the blow after the final heat shields jettisoned, but those thrusters really did little to stop them. It was not like the sci-fi movies where there was a gentle touchdown of sorts. They crashed back into the Earth hard. So hard, in fact, that the seats were specially designed to absorb that impact. No matter the safety additions and reassurances, the thought of that impact still scared her.

  For all six of them to go, they would have to invert the Space Station, as one of the Soyuz was underneath it, and they only held three people each. For every move they made up here, there had to be an entire book’s worth of procedures, and with all of them so distracted, it was going to be a long week for sure. There was no doubt though, everyone had to push out of their minds what was going on down there and focus, or they would be killed up here before they got the chance to be killed down there.

  5 – Contingencies

  President Walter Kessel walked into the Oval Office numb. As was the norm after a Cabinet meeting, Vice President Sid Langston was rolling in behind him so they could talk things out. It was kind of weird because he was sure that most Presidents also had their Chief of Staff in tow, as well as an array of sycophantic staffers, but that was not the case with Walter Kessel.

  Gary Salisbury, his Chief of Staff, had a laundry list of things to get done, and he didn’t need to sit and wonder what the hell was going on with Sid and him. The two of them might as well have been sitting on a back porch somewhere the way they carried their demeanors. But it worked for Walter, as Sid had more collective knowledge than his whole damn cabinet put together.

  He walked over to the expansive window and positioned himself to be able to see the blackened patch of grass where the VH-71 crashed and burned. One of the first things he did when he came into office was to utilize the VH-71, because it seemed so foolish that the previous administration had built nine of the crafts, and then mothballed the whole thing due to budgetary concerns.

  Of course, it was not the quality of the aircraft that failed, nor was it one of the protesters as the news agencies had been reporting. The shot that felled the copter was fired from nearly a thousand yards away, from a .50 caliber sniper rifle. The assassin assumed he had pulled off something they had never thought of. An electronic shot-spotting system that was in place for miles in every direction around the White House instantly found his location, and Walter’s men in the Secret Service had the scumbag in custody before he knew what had hit him. He did suffer a non-life threatening injury during his arrest, as he was shot in the shoulder while trying to pull a pistol out of his jacket.

  All the flags outside flew at half-mast, in honor of the men and women who had perished in that craft. They tried to follow an organized lead from this, but this deranged man had been a sniper in the Marines, discharged. He was forced out due to odd behavior linked to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This was his way of proving he was worthy to still serve his country as a taker of peoples’ lives.

  If that were all he had to worry about, then life would be a picnic, but no President in the history of the world had ever had to deal with what he was now having to deal with. At first it looked like the Secretary of Agriculture was on the trail of how the radio waves were being used, but then the bee die-offs, and the low probability of that theory working due to the fact that bees could not ingest flecks of conductors, such as the gold that Secretary Copeland hypothesized about.

  Also, the moment Synanto opened their files on their pollination processes that they had been working on, there was suddenly one less suspect on the list, and one less theory. Although his instincts told him that the radio waves were the key, this latest information led one to think it was not the radio waves being the catalyst. So what the hell was?

  Walter turned from the window as Sid addressed him, “Your young gun has done a fine job initiating, then controlling your plan, Walter, and it seems to be working.”

  “Necessity is the mother of invention, Sid, you know that. There was no way the Federal Government could hold it all together, not with all the things it was facing simultaneously. The States needed to come in and save the day. Now they each control what happens inside their borders, while our troops can protect FEMA and our farmlands from terror attack—a move I still believe in, Sid.

  “It seems to be working very well, Walter, as it has quelled the theory this was some organized Federal Government move from the start; not only that, attacks on farms have stopped. Now that people are moving about again without fear of the super-flu, everything seems a little more manageable, Walter. The economy has started again. I don’t have to tell you about the two days straight of record lows on the DOW last week. And although I agree with moving regular army into our rural areas, there are those conspiracy theorists who are having a field day with this. Having them re-stationed into outposts was also a very wise move, one I take it Gary Salisbury thought of since I didn’t.”

  He heard Sid, but his mind had already changed tracks and off topic he blurted, “I’m troubled by what one group has started, Sid. This thing has now spread worldwide, as apparently none of us saw the flaw in living so high off the ground when there was a society.”

  Walter had been referring to the newest horror they had to deal with. The gang that smoke bombed the upper income high-rise in Manhattan had started a new trend of firebombing the rich. Suddenly the light switch went on for evil people, and the new light shown the fact that if you lived in a tall building, then you were susceptible to being drawn out from a fire started down below.

  Nationwide, forty-six high rises had been torched in one way or another, and worldwide it was more like two hundred. It was not lost on the President that as the anniversary of 9/11 approached, New York currently appeared very reminiscent of post 9/11, and it made Walter’s stomach ache.

  Sid Langston told his boss, “We have got to get a handle on it, Walter.”

  “I have an idea for that too, Sid,” and the President sat down and briefed his Vice President on how to stop the newest wave of terror.

  * * *

  Karen watched the world spin by at twenty-seven thousand miles an hour. The landscape below had changed since they first started. Looking down on Earth from Space, you would think madness was going on, and then Karen realized that it was madness. The world had gone mad.

  She was waiting for her chance to use the phone to call her mom, who would surely be worried once the news of the supply ship was broadcast. Of course, Harshal’s dad was able to call a place that supposedly could not be called. Apparently the U.S. Government had now contracted with his entire company for the duration of this madness.

  That was Karen’s new moniker for it, “Madness.” This beast had a name now, and for her it was Madness. Somehow Madness had been able to kill a few key animals, and now an insect, in order to start mankind on a spiral. But why?

  She, like all people with an analytical mind, was pondering these things all the time nowadays, and it had become obsessive and compulsive. Karen kept thinking that something would pop out, some country or entity would pop out and they would have that “Ah-ha!” moment. But it was not coming and Madness was winning.

  Anatoly had finally finished his call, and when they passed she was shy to make eye contact. Passion can be embarrassing when viewed in the light of the next day and Karen didn’t even have alcohol to blame for the depths of her depravity. Of course, he, like her, was in love and somehow the tw
o of them were overlooking unspeakable horror and focusing selfishly on their newfound bond.

  Karen called her mom’s number and this time she answered on the third ring. Only she realized after her greeting that it wasn’t her mom. The voice responded, “No, Sweetie, this is Susan Davis, your mom’s best friend.”

  Even after just one phone call, the name Susan Davis had stuck as it had been mentioned a hundred times in just that one call. “Is everything all right, Susan?”

  And there it was—the pause. Karen was an expert on the pause. When she called her aunt for a personal reference before college, she sensed something was wrong, so she asked her aunt, “Is everything all right?” The pause . . . and then the news that her cousin had been gunned down in some random robbery.

  Susan spoke, but she didn’t have to, Karen knew what the next sentence was going to be, “Oh, Sweetie, I’m sorry, she passed away last night in her sleep. I came here to get her for breakfast and she didn’t respond to my knock, so I used my spare key and found her. I’m so sorry, Karen, but I know she went to bed last night the happiest I have ever seen her.

  “We had dinner together and she couldn’t stop talking about your future together. I stayed here all morning to make sure I got to tell you this. I knew her through a lot of sadness, and I know for a fact she passed on feeling all the things wrong in her life had been righted.”

  Karen let her own pause linger, she had nothing to say but, “Thank you, Susan. I was calling her to tell her I will be back in a week as our mission is over, but now it looks like I am coming home to bury my mom.”

  “Oh, Sweetie, I’m sorry again, she was very specific in her wishes of cremation. I will be holding her remains for you, and I can also set up a wake for your family.”