Around the world, several of his military colleagues muttered to themselves, some swearing, many of them praying. All had their eyes transfixed to the radar screens. The exosphere was the last outermost layer of the Earth’s atmosphere – the final realm on the way to deep space.
On and on, the missiles continued their relentless climb with the wizards in hot pursuit just as tenaciously.
Shifting her eyes to track the data, one analyst covered her mouth. “Shit. Shit. Now passing one thousand kilometers.”
“If they blow now,” her colleague asked her, “Will any damage to Earth result?”
“I don’t know,” admitted the analyst, “We’ve never faced that hypothetical situation before.” She shook her head. “The max is twelve-hundred kilometers above Earth. This has got to be a record!”
All over the world, humanity perceptibly relaxed, still in a state of suspension and disbelief, as the missiles, mile-by-mile, steadily escaped the embrace of the Earth’s atmosphere. “How high can they go?” was the question on everyone’s mind.
As if in a trance, all the nuclear specialists sat in silence, eyes glued to their screens. More minutes passed. Five. Then ten. Then fifteen more.
Halfway around the world, one expert glanced at her supervisor. “Do you think they’ll ever blow up?”
Ashen faced, the supervisor said, “I don’t know. But Earth’s safe. They’re out of our gravity.”
Exhausted, their heads and hearts aching, the humans eyeballed their radar displays, following dozens of red dots as they slowly, painstakingly, edged up closer to the top of the screens. Continuing to mutter to themselves and to one another, the panic lessened to the point that some starting joking about the bewilderment they all felt. A sharp sense of humor was necessary to defuse the thick air of foreboding that hung like a tarp pinned to the ground by relentless rain.
A quarter of an hour passed. “Two thousand kilometers and continuing,” someone said.
“Outer space,” another muttered, “They’re accelerating.”
As that point, the twenty-five wizards carefully following the agents of death nodded to one another. They had changed the paths of the missiles so that they were all travelling close together.
“Now,” the leader said, although it was futile, there being no sound in space.
In tandem, as if they were setting off fireworks, they blew up all the missiles, one-by-one. There were no spectacular fiery explosions, since there was no oxygen in space. Instead, the wizards saw the missiles disintegrate in front of their eyes.
Back on Earth, the stunned nuclear specialists, shaking their heads, all started walking away from their monitors, using the “red phone” to call the presidents and prime ministers of their respective countries.
“Missiles all destroyed. Earth’s now safe from nuclear war.”
Chapter Five
A deeply upset Arthur Kellogg Walker walked rapidly into the Roosevelt Room, situated within the West Wing of the White House.
“Mr. President,” the guard saluted him. The president didn’t even glance at him once.
The Secretary of Defense stood up to greet him, but was unceremoniously rebuffed. “Mr. President, are you okay?”
President Walker snarled. “I’m fine. Let’s get on with it.”
The entire Joint Chiefs of Staff were aggregated around the cabinet table. All of them expressed distress and anxiety, although they hid it well. It came with the job.
The president seated himself at the end of the table. He glanced around quickly, and then said, “I’ll get right to it. We’re in crisis. We’re under attack by magical beings, who’ve invaded not only the United States, but all other superpowers around the world.”
He paused. “As for those of you who are wondering what happened to me, I…” He swallowed. “…I somehow ended up in Columbus. I had to get a helicopter to get back.” Thing was, President Walker was unceremoniously deposited at the intersection of Spruce and Park Street in Columbus, Ohio, where several of his voters blinked in surprise at seeing their chief commanding officer in daylight, with nary any security staff surrounding him.
Now, everyone else stared at him. The chairman glared at the president and asked, “Magic?”
Walker ignored him. “We’ve no time to lose. I’ll tell you what I’ve been briefed on.” He looked around the table in a sweeping motion. “All our deployed missiles have been destroyed. I’ve been told that all the missiles deployed from Russia, India, Britain, France, China, and Pakistan have also been destroyed.” He checked his notes. “Both the SLBM’s and the ICBM’s.” Everyone at the table knew that SLBM’s meant sea-launched ballistic missiles, which were launched from submarines, while ICBM’s meant land-based inter-continental ballistic missiles.
“Mr. President…”
President Walker held up his hand. “But there’s an emergency now. The Bureau of Engraving and Printing in Washington, D.C., and the Western Currency Facility in Fort Worth, Texas are under siege. All printing of our money has ceased for the time being.” He parted a dirty look to his chairman. “I’m told that you’ve mobilized the army to attack.”
The president’s chief of staff frantically attempted to program the remote control, opening up the sliding panels, and then fumbling the live video feed. Some of the participants nervously stole glances at the flat-panel television screen too early, despite the president’s commanding presence.
When the video finally started transmitting, the Army’s Chief of Staff spoke in a deep voice. “An hour before the glass enclosure appeared – out of nowhere – we received a bomb threat at the Treasury Department, requiring us to evacuate the entire building immediately.” He glanced at his notes. “Same for the Fort Worth facility.”
He pointed at the screen, which was now showing tanks rolling down the street in front of the imposing, multi-pillar building that was the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Situated several feet away, in front of it was a glass wall, bouncing off the sun’s rays. “The army’s now in a position to take control. We’re ready to act on your orders, Mr. President.”
President Walker thoughtfully studied the images. “Who did this? And is that material glass?”
The responsible chief replied, “We believe one of the magicians that appeared in your office did it. Several eyewitnesses identified a brown haired woman, about twenty-five years of age, wearing that purple shirt that your office identified. She was waving her arms at the building shortly before the enclosure appeared.”
He attempted to recall the next question. “As for the glass, we’re not sure. We’ve fired at it with assault weapons. No damage.”
The president’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know who – or what – is doing this, but we have to act decisively.” He pointed at the chief. “You take care of it. Destroy the barrier.”
“And Fort Worth too, sir?”
“Both. Do it.”
Chapter Six
Now in position on Fourteenth Street Southwest in Washington, D.C., three tanks lined up, a hundred feet apart, side by side, facing the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, where billions of dollars in various denominations were printed daily. Dozens of Army troops gathered in military formation behind the tanks. Together, they faced a massive, three-foot thick transparent barrier surrounding the entire building. All looked on in wonder, imaging how such a gigantic structure could be assembled in such a short time.
Acting on the Army chief of staff’s order, the middle tank fired a volley directly into the barrier.
There was a huge blast at the point of impact, showing an enormous flash and clouds of thick black smoke. The sound of the detonation was deafening, causing the troops nearby to cover their ears.
The effect on the intimidating wall of glass: zero.
Suddenly, the soldiers heard a shout from the sky.
“Get out of the tanks, now boys!”
They craned their heads, and saw a young woman, wearing black slacks and a long-sleeved, tightly fitti
ng purple shirt. To their astonishment, she was suspended in the air, about sixty feet above ground. They looked behind her for any structure supporting her; there was none.
Despite the distance from the woman, they could hear her clearly. She was not using a megaphone or PA system. Some began to wonder if she was a spiritual omnipresent force commanded down from the Heavens, since her voice was everywhere.
The troops saw a blur behind her that was another flying woman. This one wore a long-sleeved blue shirt. The two magical beings stood together in solidarity, hovering in the air. The first woman held her finger out. “I am going to blow up the tanks on the count of twenty.” She started chanting, “One, two, three…”
In the tank on the left, three soldiers quickly clambered out through the hatch.
“…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” she finished. She said out loud, “My goodness. It appears that two tanks didn’t hear me.” She turned to the woman in blue. “What do you think of that?”
The woman in blue pointed at the one empty tank and said, “This is what I think.” Impossibly, the formidable tank gun bent as of its own will, right in the middle. Cre-aa-kkk! Slowly but decisively, it ended up at a forty-five degree angle in its middle section, rendering it useless. She quickly aimed at the two remaining tanks, causing their tank guns to immolate themselves. Cre-aa-kk! Cre-aa-kk! The once-imposing tank guns crumpled as if they were made out of aluminum foil.
Using assault machine guns, several soldiers fired upon command at the two super beings. The bullets ricocheted off a force field surrounding the two women.
“Let me finish,” said the woman in purple. Twisting her hand and wagging a slender finger, she pointed directly at the recently vacated tank. It blew up, suddenly becoming a raging fireball. Several soldiers close by the raging inferno buckled down to the ground, shielding their heads in terror.
“Now get out!” she yelled at the two remaining tanks.
The tank operators didn’t need any more warning. Hastily and clumsily, they streamed out of the hatches of the two lone holdout tanks. The soldiers on the ground retreated from the two tanks, staying a tactical distance away.
Then the two remaining tanks spontaneously combusted with ear-splitting booms, sending pillars of fire and smoke into the air. The thick, noxious black cloud swept over the army, rendering them into fits of coughing and teary eyes.
“Holy Jesus,” the vice president murmured from the Roosevelt Room as he watched the disturbing images on television.
“Sirs,” said the voice on the speaker in the Roosevelt Room, “we’ve received word that two male magicians are now confronting the army in the Fort Worth location.”
Aghast, the president gave the next order. “Pull back. Do not fire.”
Chapter Seven
Twenty-four hours had sped by with nothing but an endless stream of breaking news alerts and incessantly jabbering pundits about the strange events worldwide, pre-empting everybody’s favorite reality and prime time shows. This was reality TV.
The same confrontations between wizards and national armies had also taken place in China, Russia, Brazil, Japan, South Africa, United Kingdom, Germany, and France. All the major currency facilities worldwide had been seized by the wizards; practically none of the major currencies were being printed. The resulting moratorium on cash had resulted in widespread panic among the world’s major economies. Stock markets fell, huge run-ins occurred at the national banks, and in some cases, trading was halted by securities exchange commissions.
Amidst such turmoil, portions of the world were astonished to see huge images projected into the sky, as if giant mirrors had been strategically placed above the major populated areas of Earth. Each major city now had a direct view of a quartet of wizards, all speaking in turn.
Such events were staggered by time zone, starting first in Asia, and then occurring on a regular basis as each continent entered its own periods of daylight and as the planet continued its relentless rotation around the Sun, always spinning eastward.
For each continent, the four wizards were different individuals. Distinct groups of wizards, depending on where one lived on the planet.
Now, it was ten a.m. in New York. Citizens across the United States, Canada, and Mexico had long awakened (or just staggered bleary-eyed out of bed on the West Coast). Most of them had fits and turns in their sleep, recoiling at the news from the day before. Once they rushed online or turned on their televisions, they’d absorbed translated clips of the wizards who had spoken earlier overseas. They frantically devoured the emerging news on their smartphones. Something about a takeover by wizards worldwide.
It didn’t make sense. The images of wizards, all of different nationalities (and all appearing as young adult and impossibly good-looking) overseas bombarded their television screens, showing them speaking in foursomes. They were told that the Asian delegation of wizards had announced a takeover of Asia. What the hell? How could anyone possibly think to exert total control of China, India, and Russia – three huge, very different and complex countries with gigantic populations, nuclear weapons, and military ambitions?
Along with such a brash declaration, the four wizards claiming title to Asia also had the nerve to unveil a flag – a coat of arms, really – purporting it to be the new symbol of Asia.
And that wasn’t all. Moving images of a group of Caucasian wizards – another handsome-looking group – broadcast their announcement that they were taking over Europe. The news analysts had barely enough time to digest all these developing news, let alone make sense of them. There lay an image of the European coat of arms generously supplied by the wizards, grandly fluttering as if it were a real flag raised into the wind.
An assembly of wizards, all of Black origin, reporting that they’d taken over Africa, brazenly displaying a distinctive coat of arms for the African continent. Simultaneously, breathless new anchors started announcing news of a delegation of wizards in South America. For heaven’s sake. What was next, Antarctica? But now, all the reporters in North America started hearing a live stream from their own giant mirrors in the sky. Attention immediately focused on the sky above. South America was forgotten, for now.
People in Vancouver, New York, Mexico City, and Chicago all stood out in the open space, mystified. What did it mean to them? Right now? The citizens of North America, wherever they lived, all looked up at the sky directly above them. The quality of the voices from the wizards was perfect; as if there was lived stereo sound being fed in.
Yes. For the “so-lucky” North Americans, there were their own four wizards, assuming sitting positions two miles up into the sky, somewhere over the continent: that huge land mass west of the Atlantic Ocean and wholly in the Northern Hemisphere. Just about the last continent to be “discovered” by European explorers.
The four wizards faced each other: no chairs, no meeting table, and no room. The only thing that separated them was sky. They sat in positions assuming they were strategically located at the corners of an imaginary square of dimensions five hundred feet wide. To make up for the wizards appearing distant from each other, behind him or her each had a huge screen showing who was speaking at the moment.
The two women – one wearing blue, the other purple – sat diagonally opposite each other. The two men – one wearing red, the other yellow – completed the two other imaginary corners, also sitting diagonally from each other. They all assumed seated positions, but there was nothing directly beneath them. All the wizards appeared to be in their twenties. They all could be mistaken as college students, chatting about projects in a university quad.
The woman in purple spoke first. “Greetings, Mortals of North America. We are proud to be your Liberators. We’re now entering a new world order.”
As she smiled, those on the surface on the continent could see her features perfectly. She had an oval-shaped face, brown hair, high cheekbones, gold studded earrings, and brown eyes. Her hairstyle consisted of straight long hair, parted straight dow
n the middle, and all brushed back to end up in an outward curl behind the top of her shoulder blades.
“My name is Indie. I-n-d-i-e. It’s short for a word proudly associated with the United States of America, ‘independence.’ I’ll be responsible for law and order. By the way, all proceedings are now being broadcast in three languages: English in the United States and Canada except for Quebec, French for Quebec, and Spanish for Mexico and Central America.” She glanced expectantly at her companion on the right.
The man in red confidently leaned forward, “You may call me Demus, pronounced D-e-e-e-m-u-s. The name is based upon the word, ‘democracy,’ which is a sacred tenet of all the countries of North America. Like Indie said, we’re starting a new world order. You’ll be entering a new age of prosperity and glory. We’ll be your guides.” He attempted to suppress a chuckle. “Sorry. I’ll be responsible for politics.” He paused. “You know, doing the dirty work and coordinating everything. I’ll be making sure we all working closely together with you Mortals.”
Humans looking at him on the screens all over North America could see he was an oval-faced tall young man, blue eyes, sandy brown hair with a left part, and a small firm mouth. Individually, his features were not extraordinary, but the way they combined together gave him what was nearly a movie star look.
As Demus sat back, the woman in blue to his right appeared annoyed that she wasn’t given a cue to speak out. After waiting a few more seconds for Demus, she spoke, “Hello. My name is Justica. As you may’ve guessed, my name’s based upon ‘justice,’ a passion of mine. I’ll be responsible for the fun stuff – infrastructure. You need hospitals? Community care centers? Tennis courts? We can provide that all to you. We’ll explain later.”
A short woman with a round, petite face, she smiled gracefully, sitting back as she finished. The only one of the group to have darker skin, she had black hair which ended up in curls at the base of her neck. Her eyes appeared kind, as if she’d sit beside a child and read her a book. Her smile was natural, not forced. “Over to you, Regi.”
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