57 MOTHER NATURE DEFENDS HERSELF
In the skies above the lair, the fruits of Tasha's labor were coming to bare. The two colliding pressure-systems that surrounded the fearless warrior's final release of condensation seeds had created a massive rainstorm. The sudden reaction resulted in thick layers of water droplets too heavy to stay afloat as clouds. As each drop fell towards the ground, it merged with smaller droplets. The result was the heaviest rain the little island had ever experienced.
The jungle was littered with fires. For the moment, the flames were mostly localized to the crash sites of Tasha's fleet. Their heat was quickly drying out the surrounding flora and fauna. It appeared that soon the island would be little more than a charred rock. Fortunately, the rain that had formed was about to douse every bit of fire on the ground. As the large water droplets fell through the clouds, they did more than just pick up mass. The speeding rain built up an enormous amount of static electricity in the single, thick cloud layer that had formed. Just like the opposing poles of a magnet attract one another, so was the strong negative charge that filled the storm cloud drawn to positive charges in the launch track’s magnets.
The lair's launch tube had become the highest point in the shallow bed of the drained lake below. Its intense electromagnetic field drew in the cloud's electricity like a superconductive lightning rod. Electrons from hundreds of cubic kilometers of cloud-cover rushed to the center and formed a channel to the interior of the missile's port. Mother Nature's face appeared in the clouds, when a brilliant-white lightning bolt lit up the island. It connected the heavens with Gene’s underworld in a blinding flash. The missile was only lengths away from the end of its underground journey. Since its hull had become a superconductor in the cooling process, it was the route of least resistance for the lightning strike. In a thundering crash, the orb and containment field drew in all its energy. Electricity arced across the quantum orb.
The basic design of the weapon was such that an arc from the onboard capacitor was to trigger the photon explosion, once the target had been reached. The lightning strike had the same effect. The luminous orb in the warhead burst into a high-intensity photon wave. Deflected by the graphite in the missile's front section, the blinding flash of energy shot down the launch tube. The huge pipe exploded with tremendous force. High-energy photons were consuming everything in their path. The lake above buckled around the launch tube. The sudden influx of energy expanded air and solid contents of the lair for a brief moment. Equipment and supplies vaporized. Much of the granite which encapsulated the lair turned into molten lava that spilled into shafts and rooms throughout. The cracked and partially molten top of the lair collapsed inward like a funnel. The still substantial amount of remaining lake water rushed to the center and disappeared into the shaken ground. Moments later, the water shot straight up towards the rainy sky in a gigantic geyser stream. The concussion echoed across the terrified jungle. Moments later, the falling rain produced the only sound that could be heard across the tropical forest. Every creature of the jungle had frozen in fear. The downpour soon extinguished the fires caused by the downed armada. The animals of the island returned to their nature-given activities of hunting and gathering food. The lair’s molten granite had hardened when the lake water gushed in.
What had been the most horrific apparatus ever devised by modern man, remained little more than a thick lake-bed made of solid rock.
Part 4 - Dawn of an Epoch
58 THE GIRLS SURFACE
Isabelle felt the sting in her lungs left by smoke and noxious fumes from the fire. How much she wanted to cough, but she held her breath. She had to get to the surface of this lake. The journalist turned lightwarrior was disoriented, her head numb with pain. Isabelle's eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark. Just moments ago, a blinding flash lit up the stormy sky. She swam in that direction. There it was - Isabelle had reached air. Her lungs expelled a disgusting mix of soot and carbon dioxide. She gasped a painful breath. Her lungs were inflamed from the toxins she inhaled in the firestorm. The clean and oxygen-rich air of the jungle infused the young woman with life force. She gasped another breath. Boulders splashed into the water around her; the cliff that towered beside her was settling into its new shape.
High above Isabelle, a new lake was forming in the crater that remained as a reminder of Gene's sinister plan. The old waterfall had stopped flowing. Fed by one of the many rivers of the jungle, a new one sprang up further along the freshly shaped rock-face. Isabelle was bobbing up and down with the ripples like a buoy. A fine mist surrounded the bottom of the cascading stream of water ahead. Isabelle's eyes were getting used to the low light. A giant tortoise peeked out of the water at the unusual visitor with curiosity.
The storm clouds were moving out to sea. Their departure revealed the first light of the new day. The distant horizon behind the jungle was aglow with the bluish light of dawn. Isabelle squinted. She wiped the water from her stinging eyes. The turtle had disappeared back into the water of the lake. Surrounded by the foggy mist of the waterfall, Isabelle saw a silhouette that had become all too familiar. She recognized the outline of a head whose thick locks of hair were floating on the surface like an octopus. It was the woman who wanted Isabelle dead hours ago, the woman who had made every effort to let Gene succeed. Was this the same woman who helped her save the world? Much like Isabelle had seen the humanity in Gene, she saw the love in Tasha. Isabelle had succeeded by appealing to the humanity in Tasha, rather than confronting her about her flaws. Where Tasha once followed the temptations of darkness, her actions were now guided by the light. Isabelle swam towards her former adversary.
There was one very important thing left to do.
59 PEACE ON EARTH
When Michael joined Gene's cause, he cared little about the lack of moral or humanitarian value in his new employer's intentions. What little personal integrity Michael possessed had left his consciousness soon after he began his work in Gene's services. Michael had always found himself to be an entertainer. For his taste, the reporting of mere facts didn't draw in large enough audiences. He lived for the fact that his face could be seen in every household around the globe on a daily basis. Pure journalism didn't bring that kind of fame. The way Michael saw it, most people didn't really care to hear what truly went on in the world, it was too depressing. His viewers slept well after his shows promised relief from dangers such as terrorism or disease. He cared very little about the true source of the monkey flu or if there really was a weaponized strain that killed the quarantinees.
There were times when Michael felt the journalistic duty to report the facts, even if that would go against the company line. Those moments faded quickly with the memory of his first meeting with Gene.
Along with the promise of fame and awards for helping Gene further his agenda came a grim reminder of what would happen to the squeaky wheel. It was the story of Isabelle and how she ran a report that exposed a dark flaw in the establishment that was not to be addressed publicly. Gene was quick to point out it hadn't been Isabelle who lost her livelihood but her father. Isabelle's only option for survival had become to fall into Gene's employ. What had truly motivated Michael to follow Gene's path were the rumors about the disappearance of Isabelle's mother. The official word of the mysterious fire that destroyed Gemma's jungle village sounded too coincidental even to Michael. The stakes of endangering the lives of his parents were too high for the television personality. Michael had no interest in risking his livelihood and the welfare of his parents to bring the truth to an audience whose apathy was the very reason the world had reached the current state of affairs. The choice for Michael had always been clear, a way of thinking that had served his career well.
Michael remembered drumming Gene’s first campaign of fear across the world. His high-profile career launched with a true test of loyalty. A few unexplained infant deaths became the fiery fuel for a Ponytail Special Report. With a subject as emotionally charged as the tragedy of the loss of a child, M
ichael’s story needed not a shred of evidence or logic to achieve its goal. The moment a scientist or composed individual would attempt to interject with a contradicting fact, Michael’s show would cut to an extreme close-up of a sobbing woman. The anger coursing in the brains of the audience would perceive the critical voice as the offender, rather than one of help. The reason for this campaign was motivated by so much darkness, Gene had to keep himself in a furious rage so his mind would be unable to comprehend the atrocity of his actions.
When a spirit grows into this lifetime in the womb of his or her mother, it anticipates a world of enlightenment and joy. The basic design of humanity was to be immersed in happiness, rather than pursue it. The suffering endured by mother and child during birth is a product of the process itself and recognized by both as one of love. As soon as the infant enters the world, he or she is ready to perceive love and compassion. It is the very reason that a human is born a fetus that requires another nine months of maturing before it can separate from the mother. It is this extended external gestation period that allows the young member of humanity to absorb its collective consciousness and become one with its environment. A newborn’s senses are delicate and keenly anticipate the exploration of a world filled with enlightened joy and love.
Gene had made sure he kept his flock in check by bringing birth back to his global chain of hospitals. He could ensure that his doctors knew they would never work again, if they skipped the slap on a newborn’s behind. This custom, said to begin the breathing process had a motivation of a much darker nature for Gene than simply putting the new mother’s mind at ease. It was this initial act of violence against an infant by a stranger that would trigger the cerebellum and its fear based survival mode. Once fear was introduced into the life of an individual who had few other experiences, it was easy to maintain such a state. Gene needed to be sure not a single free spirit would interfere with his plan. He was convinced that without him, the world would be lost.
This truly tugged on Michael’s morality. When the man with the ponytail received the call from Isabelle on Ryan's digital tablet, he quickly realized the tables had turned for the better. Michael waited impatiently while his new-technology editor analyzed the files Isabelle had transferred. The upload contained Dr. Kensington's schematic of the lair and the formulas for quantum energy. The man sat in awe before his monitor.
"This would have worked."
While his staff pondered the repercussions a successful launch would have brought for humanity, Michael was in a whole different state. The missile story had shot him to the apex of fame. Never in the history of this world had a single program been broadcast on every medium and channel at the same moment. This story would change mankind forever.
It was long before sunrise on this freezing winter morning in Berlin. The city's morning rush-hour had just begun. Traffic would have normally flowed steadily on the main promenade, the KuDamm, but not this day. Everyone's attention was trained on the Europacenter's jumbotron that overlooked the cultural center of town. Pedestrians had stopped dead in their tracks. Motorists from every direction stood on the snowy road by the side of their open cars. The enormous video display was filled with the image of ponytailed Michael Leese in ¾ profile, surrounded by doomsday graphics. Dubbed over the voice of the ratings-hungry television celebrity, the words of a German translator were booming from car radios and the giant TV. Underneath the voice-over, Michael's original dialogue could be heard.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, extraordinary events transpired this morning on a small island off the coast of Madagascar. In what can only be described as a plot to enslave humanity, industrial magnate Gene Soskyh attempted the launch of a monstrous weapon that would have extinguished all life on the north African continent and the Middle East."
Michael's face was radiating with the glow of success. It meant little to him that his story was selling out the hand that had fed him so well. A similar scene took place on Hollywood's famous boulevard. Late-night tourists and super-heroes on the sidewalk outside its landmark Chinese Theatre had stopped in mid-stride. Here like everywhere else, the world had turned its attention to Michael's simulcast. All eyes were on video screens that littered the architecture. Michael's voice echoed along the boulevard.
"Soskyh's plot involved a self-destructing seed-bank, total surveillance of every individual, and a violent version of a discovery that, when used peacefully, can bring a life of comfort to every person on the planet."
The broadcast was also being watched in one very important household: The Methusas’ palace in Eritrea. A priceless silver frame over the mantle prominently displayed a picture of Tasha and her parents from the time when they lived as a family. Tasha's parents were both watching in pride as Michael continued.
"Only thanks to the heroic efforts of investigative reporter Isabelle de Fleur and Special Forces Commander Methusa, was the missile detonated during the final moments of its lift-off. The secret launch facility had been built into the granite of a converted graphite mine that shielded the explosion from the outside." A stock photo of Isabelle appeared over Michael's shoulder as he addressed her. "Isabelle, it sounds like science fiction. You were telling me earlier Gene Soskyh had built a device called a photon bomb?"
The picture on the Methusas' and all of the world’s televisions switched to a grainy image of Isabelle standing in front of the newly formed waterfall. Ryan, Tonati and Tasha stood by her side. The morning sun bathed the sky behind the jungle in a warm, orange glow. The video image was coming from Ryan's digital pad, which Fuji held trained on the unusual foursome. He had piloted his quantum-powered plane to the bottom of the cliff where our friends reunited after their battle with darkness. With visions of a brilliant future for humanity, Isabelle lead into the most important stand-up of her life.
"Science Michael, not fiction. A discovery as fundamental as when man learned to harness the power of fire called Quantum Energy stands behind this. And just like fire, this gift of Nature can bring life or death. With its discovery, mankind stands before the most difficult question it ever had to face: Are we evolved enough to coexist in comfort with unlimited energy, or do we all need to be caged to protect us from each other?"
Fuji shook the digital device and announced with a satisfied smile, "looks like the battery finally gave out."
Isabelle had broken the biggest story ever. The truth prevailed, but at what a painful price! Her eyes glazed over with the thought of her father's suffering. Tonati walked up to Isabelle and placed his right paw against her thigh. She felt Lionel's presence. Isabelle looked deep into Tonati's jungle-green eyes and a smile spread from her face through her entire body. She saw the glimmer of her father's spirit alive in her puma's eyes. Tonati rose his head. His regal roar echoed across the ancient jungle as he announced the dawn of a new age for humanity.
Fuji had recognized long ago that Lionel and Tonati were of the same spirit, which was now focused in the puma's gestalt. Ryan was just happy everyone survived this battle, unaware of the spiritual and emotional implications this adventure had brought upon the woman he so desired. Isabelle looked at Ryan who stood next to her, grinning. She was aware of the tremendous help he had provided on her quest. She was grateful for the risks her admirer had taken and the effort he had made. Isabelle uttered the words Ryan had been longing to hear.
"I could kiss you!"
He thought to himself, "all my work is paying off."
Isabelle leaned in to kiss Ryan. As if she could read his thoughts, she froze just as their lips were about to touch for the first time. Flashes of moments with Ryan filled the young woman's mind. She remembered when Ryan thought it best to leave Tasha to drown, when he left her to fight alone in the water by the launch tube. There were the moments in the car in Berlin. "A lady is driven." His words and actions weren't those of a hero but of someone who wanted to be perceived in a heroic fashion. This was wrong. As if she had risen a glass of spoiled milk to her lips, Isabelle pulled back.
Isa
belle turned her head and her eyes caught the most beautiful image she had ever seen. For the first time since their initial encounter, Tasha's face was filled with a warm smile that came from deep within. The woman who had gone to epic lengths to see Isabelle dead had truly acted heroic. Tasha's big, round eyes were filled with the love for her parents. Suddenly, it became clear to Isabelle; the failed attempts at relationships in her past, Ralf on the train, Ryan. She had always been pursuing the type of relationships her environment had ascribed. As long as Isabelle could remember, she had been unsuccessfully seeking outside what would make her truly happy on the inside. In Tasha's gaze laid the answer to Isabelle's lifelong quest.
Similar thoughts were flooding Tasha's mind in a deluge of light. For the first time, her actions had been solely guided by love. The effect of her cause had never been as monumental. Nothing Tasha had embarked on in the past had brought such a strong sense of gratification as did the act of saving friends and family from certain doom. Tasha had been inspired by Isabelle's selfless struggle to bring out the truth. Never before had an adversary earned her respect like Isabelle did. Tasha had come to expect her prey to fight back and bring anger and aggression. None had ever approached her with empathy, let alone risk their lives to protect hers. Tasha saw love and compassion in the eyes of the woman beside her. All of Tasha's past relationships had been short-lived and purely physical because she had never found anyone's company worthwhile. There was a warmth that flooded her iron body from her solar plexus. Tasha, too, knew she had found what had been missing from her lonely life.
With These Eyes Page 34