Glassing the Orgachine

by David Marusek

  Vera didn’t know what to say.

  “Governor?” the lieutenant went on. “I know this is sudden. You have seen the news about the spaceship landing in Central Park, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, yes. How could I miss it? But this is the first I’ve heard about my own involvement. Tell you what, give me a minute and I’ll call you right back.”

  She hung up and handed the phone to Bradd who said, “You’re on the VIP list?”

  “Looks like it.” She got out of bed and changed into her track suit. “Have I been totally wrong about the Planet X hoax?”

  “I don’t think so. Why do you say that?”

  “I mean, it is a hoax, right? But that tent coming down in a cloud — that looked pretty convincing.”

  “Special effects.”

  “Maybe. And why did the lieutenant just now call it an alien spaceship?”

  Bradd said, “Maybe the Air Force doesn’t officially believe in angels.”

  “But they believe in space aliens?” On second thought, the Air Force had a long history with aliens. “If there really is a planet about to smack us, and if God sent us an angel to meet with Earth leaders, it only makes sense for them to include me, right?”

  “Sounds right to me.”

  “And yet, the whole thing stinks.”

  “Do you want I should call someone?”

  “Yes, get Beaver over here.”

  “THIS IS HOW I see it,” the militia colonel told them. They were seated around the conference table in the Tetlin dining room. “If I was the Antichrist starting my campaign to crush all opposition and march across the globe, the first thing I’d do is gather up all the world leaders into one room and give ’em a choice — my way or a bullet. That means that the folks coming out of that tent will be either toadies or corpses. It don’t matter if you call it an angel or a little green man, the transport aircraft belongs to Obama. If you step aboard, that’ll be the last anyone ever sees of you.”

  What he said made sense, though if Obama was in on it, why would he let them ruin his inauguration like that? Or did he make that sacrifice in order to conceal his own complicity?

  “What do you suggest I do?” she said.

  Beaver Swayne didn’t have to think about it. “Go underground. Gather up some things and your family and leave here within the hour. I can get you out unseen, and I have a safe house set up not too far away. But first, call JBER and stall them. Schedule the flight for as late as possible, not till tomorrow night if you can.”

  Vera and Bradd consulted each other with a glance, and Bradd said, “Yes, go, you and Tye. I’ll stay here with Kris to run your office. We’ll make it seem like you’re still here.”

  Vera closed her eyes and gave Heaven a chance to weigh in. Well, God? Is this what we do? With no immediate objection from above, she looked at Swayne and said, “Okay, I agree. I’ll call Kato’s office. Then Taiga and I go with you, and Bradd stays here. But before that I need to record a message for my followers. Bradd, you can put it up on my channel when we’re safe.”

  “Will do,” he said and turned to leave, but she held him back.

  Swayne said, “How long will it take to throw together a go bag?”

  “Already done.”

  “Good, then I’ll start the arrangements. Keep in mind it’s possible you’ll never see this place again.”

  When Swayne left the room, Vera and Bradd sought each other’s arms and silently held each other for a long while. Then Vera said, “It’s funny how you can prepare yourself for something your whole life, but when it really happens, it knocks the breath out of you.”

  “I know. It’s still sinking in.”

  “I expect you to join us as soon as you can.”

  “That’s my plan. I expect you to keep yourself and Tye safe until I do.”

  “With God’s help, I will.”

  MY FELLOW ALASKANS, I know how frightening the events of the last week and a half have been, what with psychedelic auroras and killer planets and all. And now an honest-to-gosh angel riding down from Heaven on a cloud. Well, I have good news and bad news for you, and I would be falling down on the job as your governor if I didn’t share it all.

  Vera had hastily changed into office clothes. She applied makeup as Kris Derry brushed the tangles out of her hair. The sky outside the home studio window hung low and grey over the lake.

  The good news is that Planet X, or whatever the so-called angel called it, is not real, as best we can tell. Neither is that herald angel and his tent of many colors. I got to admit it’s a great special effect, and I have no idea how they did it. Maybe they got Hollywood to help them pull it off; I don’t know. Anyway, as we all know who actually read the Bible, there is no record in Revelation or anyplace else of our planet being smashed to smithereens by another planet. Period.

  And especially by one that didn’t even exist two weeks ago! Brother, give me a break, will ya? It’s all a big fat lie.

  Now, who would want to inflict such a terrible hoax on the world? Well, that brings us to the bad news. It’s my firm belief that the End Times have begun in earnest. The Antichrist is about to reveal himself to the world he intends to conquer in a war that is recorded in the Bible. And being the wily snake he is, who pals around with the original Snake in the Garden, the Antichrist has hatched a clever plan to eliminate all effective opposition leadership in one fell swoop before the shooting even starts. That’s why he has “requested” the presence of all world leaders to come to his so-called tent of many colors for a big pow-wow. Yah, sure. If you’re like me, you won’t trust anyone who comes out of that tent alive.

  So, who is this Antichrist? We definitely have our opinions around here, but rather than speculate, I think we’ll just wait a few more days until he shows himself, which he certainly will do. So stay tuned for that.

  As for myself, I too have been summoned to show up at the tent. The President has even “offered” me a free plane ride aboard an Air Force jet. But I refuse to be so easily tricked, and I will not go. Instead, I will remain here in Alaska and continue to prepare my state for the coming onslaught. We got a good start on building up our Regional Action Centers around the state, and we will continue to prepare them. Those of you willing to put your lives on the line to defend your communities, I encourage you to look into joining the Alaska Liberty Force. There’s likely a branch in your town or village, or call their Anchorage office. While you still can.

  I understand that despite my advice to people from the Lower 48 not to come up here, that there’s already caravans of RVs on the Alcan doing just that. So let me repeat, unless you are well-stocked and well-armed, don’t even think about making the trip. But keep in mind the Canadian authorities will not allow you to haul guns through their territory.

  That’s about it. I may not have another opportunity to speak to you like this for the foreseeable future, but be assured that I got your back; I’m still manning the helm of state and that we’ll never surrender. Thank you, God bless America, God bless Alaska, and Heaven help us all.

  KB3 1.0

  TWENTY HUNDRED UTC was 11:00 a.m. in Alaska, and Deut arrived around 10:30 with Crissy Lou in tow. She brought fresh-baked gingersnap cookies, and Jace had a pot of real coffee brewing. Both living-room stoves were cranking out heat. When Deut took off her boots, Jace offered her a pair of fuzzy slippers. They were a Christmas gift from his sister Kate and the sort of thing he’d never wear. They were big for Deut’s feet but a welcome relief from the cold, plank floor. She’d brought his iPad for them to use.

  Several news services had been livestreaming the landing site in Central Park continuously since the day the Visitor had arrived. Nothing much seemed to have happened in the meantime. The Oscar robot/herald angel stood at attention at the bottom of the ramp to block it. Every little while, the police cordon would open to admit an international delegate or corporate suit or representative from some ethnic or cultural group. They milled about in the field in the cold, thousands
of them, many more than the three thousand sacrificial lambs Found One intended to slaughter.

  The Doomsday Clock was tucked into the corner of the screen: 42 Days, 15 hours, 52 minutes.

  The robot in Central Park suddenly whirred to life and stepped off the ramp, opening the way for the clot of VIPs to queue up and ascend to the ship. When those in the vanguard reached the top of the ramp, the curved metal panels slid open, and the procession of elites entered the bright interior of the saucer. No way even a tenth of the delegates could fit inside.

  “What do you see?” Jace asked, nudging Deut with his elbow.

  She turned a dreamy look his way. “The herald angel sounded his trumpet and the people of God are marching two by two up into the tent.”

  “Describe the tent.”

  “Well, it’s big and round, like a circus tent, I guess. You know, with a central pole. It’s got lots of colored panels, like Joseph’s coat of many colors in Egypt. What do you see?”

  “Dignitaries entering the saucer.”

  “Is it a large saucer?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Then how do they all fit inside?”

  “Obviously, it’s bigger on the inside that the outside.”

  “And how do they do that? With magic?”

  “No, it must be some effect of physics that bends spacetime within objects.” He was talking pure bullshit, and he knew it. The Tardis was possessed of the same interior volume anomaly, but he’d never felt compelled to explain it; he’d simply accepted it. It was only sci-fi, after all.

  “So you’re saying it’s a scientific fact that you can stuff thousands of people into a shoebox.”

  “No, not at all. I’m just saying that the alien civilization has figured it out but we haven’t figured it out yet. What about your tent? Will they all fit?”

  “Father God is not limited by Earthly measures.”

  Of course he isn’t.

  AT PRECISELY 20:40 UTC, forty minutes since the procession began, the last pair of human delegates cleared the ramp, the tent flap dropped shut, and the herald angel resumed his post at the bottom of the ramp. Fat snowflakes began to fall in NYC.

  “Did you watch any of this with Barbara Jean?” Jace asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What does she see? A saucer or a tent?”

  “She says she sees a saucer sometimes —”

  “Ah-hah!” Jace said. “A saucer.”

  “And sometimes she sees a tent on a cloud.”

  “Oh.”

  “But mostly she sees a tree?”

  “A tree?”

  “Yes, a Buddha tree, with big sheltering boughs.”

  “Anyway,” Jace continued, “it’ll probably be awhile before those folks come out again. In the meantime, can I make us some lunch?”

  Before she could answer, a message crawled across the bottom of the iPad screen.

  Jace said, “Can you see that?”

  “Yes.” She sounded the words in her head before reading them out loud. “‘Come join the conversation on the Visitor’s Facebook page.’ What does yours say?”

  “The same.”

  “You talked about Facebook before.”

  “Yeah. Tap that link and see where it takes you.”

  She did and found the “Gabriel — Archangel of the Lord” profile. The angel’s gorgeous, manly face appeared in the photo box. Behind it was a banner image of storm clouds with rays of sunshine breaking through. Gabriel’s location was given as the “First Creation” and his occupation as “Messenger of God, Interpreter of Visions, and Bringer of Prophecy.”

  “That’s him. That’s Gabriel!” Deut exclaimed. “Can you see him?”

  “Sure, I can see him.”

  “See? I’m not making him up.”

  “I never said you were.”

  Halfway down Gabriel’s page was an awesome photo of him with his flaming sword. A large red triangle was covering the center of the photo.

  “That’s a video,” Jace said. “Tap the arrow.”

  The triangle disappeared when she tapped it, and suddenly Gabriel began to speak.

  Grace be unto you and peace, in the name of He Who Is and Who Was and Who Is Yet To Be, and from His Son, the Anointed One, the Faithful Witness, the Firstborn of the Dead, and the Ruler of the Kings of the Earth. I am speaking today to everyone who dwells upon the Earth, to inform you of events taking place on the Earth even as they take place in the firmament. For the Anointed One has commanded: “Bring all who hunger for news into the sanctuary of your words, even as you bring the kings and the stewards of kings into your tent of many colors.”

  “Are you hearing this?” Deut asked. “Tent of many colors, not flying saucer. Tent.”

  Therefore, let it be proclaimed across the nations: I, Gabriel, your guide and fellow traveler in the tribulations and witness to the kingdom and perseverance which are in Jesus, and the annunciator who stands before the throne of the Most High, who has borne news to Daniel, Zacharias, and the prophets of old, and to Mary, the Virgin Mother of the Son of God, say unto you, “Behold, even as it was prophesied in the Book of St. John the Divine, so it has been revealed to the world. The Lamb has broken the Sixth Seal, the Seal of Terror, and the stars of the sky do fall to the Earth, as a fig tree gives up its unripe fruit when shaken by a great wind.

  As it is written, the sky will split apart and roll up like a scroll, and every mountain and island will be moved out of their places, for the time has come, and the trumpet is sounded.

  Therefore, I beseech thee to like this page and while here to instant message me whenever you desire so that you may know the things that are and the things to come after these things, in Christ Jesus name. Amen.

  The video box returned to its initial frame. Gabriel was magnificent beyond words.

  “Can I play it again?”

  “As often as you like.”

  She tapped the little triangle again and watched a second and third time. Meanwhile, Jace, who had heard enough the first time, went to the kitchen to make lunch. After a fourth viewing she called to him, “Ranger? How do I show Gabriel I like what he says?”

  “Look for a tiny thumbs-up icon and tap it.”

  She did so and discovered that she was one of 103,821,967 people who already liked what they’d seen and heard. And lots of them shared blessings, prayers, and thank yous in the comments. The angel’s admirers came from around the world and wrote in languages she could only guess at (English being hard enough as it was). Some of the messages she could read were so lovely they made her cry a little. (She glanced toward the kitchen in case the ranger was watching.) Many people were filled with fear and foreboding, and she wanted to comfort them. Fear not. Gabriel is on the job.

  While she was reading, a little tab sprang up from the bottom of the screen. There was a message addressed to her personally! When she clicked it, a new frame opened and Gabriel appeared, looking directly at her.

  Greetings, Deuteronomy. Isn’t this talking slate a marvel? It’s as strange to me as it must be to you.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

  How goes the recruitment?

  She glanced again at the kitchen. “Okay, I think.”

  Good, good. Your success is essential.

  “Who are you talking to?” Jace called from the kitchen.

  “Nobody,” she called back, and then, because that was a half truth, “Gabriel.”

  “Oh, okay. Say hi for me.”

  “I will. Who are you talking to?”

  “Crissy Lou.”

  Laughter. “That’s what I thought. Ask her why she came to town. I’m curious.”

  “I already did. It was to look after you. You want tea or more coffee with lunch?”

  “Plain water will do.”

  AS JACE POURED two glasses of plain glacial water, he noticed the eyedropper bottles on the shelf with their bearded icons of Faith and Science. Following the alien’s little seminar on epigenes (were epigenes really a thi
ng?) and boneheads, Jace retrieved DARWIN from the trash, but his opinion of religion hadn’t changed. Religion remained, in his humble estimation, the height of ignorance. Found One was crazy to think he’d ever experiment with JESUS like that, even if he had DARWIN cued up to reverse the effect.

  Likewise, using DARWIN on Deut would be a gross violation of her person; it was unloving and inexcusable. What kind of a man would be so willing to mold the vital essence of his lover’s heart so that it matches his own? An unfaithful lover, that’s what kind. A control freak, a sick fuck. No, Jace would never go that route. Never. Not going to happen.

  Still, he was curious about the drugs the alien had given him. Really, who wouldn’t be? Jace held the bottles up to the light — colorless. He wondered if a few drops in a glass of water would taste funny. He wondered how long the conversion process would take. Hours? Days? Did you wake up one morning two weeks later and say, Holy Crap, I can’t believe what kind of bat-crazy shit I used to believe? Or were the epiphanies so small and incremental you don’t know you’ve changed until someone points it out to you?

  Jace might never learn the answer to these legitimate questions because, in a fit of conscience, he grabbed both bottles from the shelf and went to the kitchen sink. The honorable thing to do would be to empty them and let their chemical mischief run down the drain to join the slop in the bucket under the counter. That would be the smart move.

  Yet Jace couldn’t do it. Not yet. There was too much confusion going on in the world to act with such finality on such a matter. He might find other uses for the drugs having nothing to do with Deut. So he returned JESUS and DARWIN to their shelf.

  “Lunch is served,” he called into the living room. “Get it while it’s hot.”

  THEY WATCHED THE scene in Central Park together for several more intoxicating hours, during which time the tent flap had not been raised. By dinnertime, Crissy Lou had had enough and was more than ready to call it quits and return to Barbara Jean’s house, her new dog-loving home.