Glassing the Orgachine

by David Marusek

  As soon as the girl and dog left, Jace returned JESUS and DARWIN to their shipping box and took them out to the shed to store down in the root cellar. Out of sight, out of mind.

  ALTHOUGH NO SET time was given for the expected duration of the First Interplanetary Summit in Central Park, when twenty-four hours had elapsed and the tent remained closed, all feeds and all channels, and especially the lamestream media, lit up with punditry and speculation over confusing aspects of the event. For example, even if there was enough space in the tent to fit five thousand people, where were the catering trucks bringing in provisions? Or were they eating manna from Heaven? Were they each given a little cloud to sleep on? What about their other needs? Was Gabriel storing their toilet waste in a septic tank cloud?

  The biblical answer to all of these questions was the same — providence. Duh.

  Deut had the iPad playing in the background as she did the dishes at BJ’s house. Forty-eight hours into the vigil in Central Park, the crowd erupted in shouts and cries. Something was happening. Deut called Barbara Jean to come watch.

  The tent flap flew open. Earth’s first interplanetary convocation was concluded, and the first delegates were emerging into the frigid morning light.

  A makeshift podium for the news services had been set up, but most of the delegates went straight from the ramp to the row of chartered buses that would take them to the United Nations building. Those few delegates who did pause long enough to grant an impromptu interview spoke with awe and humility about their opportunity to meet and work with the angel. Without exception they were surprised when informed that they had been inside the tent for only two days; it had seemed like weeks.

  They described the interior of the tent as nothing short of miraculous. It seemed to encompass an entire city, with gardens and parks, glass skyscrapers, stadiums, convention centers, and all manner of public art. They met in plenary session in a magnificent open-air amphitheater (the weather being sunny and pleasant). They were each assigned a suite of rooms for living and office space. Altogether it was a very well-organized conference, and extremely productive.

  However, when asked about the details of their plans to defend Earth, none of the delegates was willing to go on the record, instead referring journalists to their de facto spokesperson, U.N. Secretary-General Ghan Chi-won, who was preparing to address the world in a live speech to the Security Council about . . .

  . . . the Little Nudge. In layman’s terms, which is all the science I speak, it means that for the next eight days we will apply what prayer is necessary to slightly increase the time it takes for the Earth to go around the Sun. In other words, a year will last several hours longer than it does now. The difference will be just enough to keep Planet X, otherwise known as Pipnonia, from colliding catastrophically with us. The adjustment will be so slight that for most people on Earth, it will feel like a small tremor well below the intensity of an earthquake. Hence the name — Little Nudge.

  Since I am not a physicist, I won’t go into more detail than that at this time. Instead, we will assign experts to produce an explanation to be available to media and on our website by tomorrow, together with links for additional information and instructions for communities and individuals in how to better protect themselves.

  I’ll end this by saying that I believe we have every chance of coming through this crisis without major damage or casualties anywhere on the planet. Archangel Gabriel has demonstrated prayer technologies that are centuries in advance of anything we have heretofore seen.

  Rex to the Rescue

  RR1 1.0

  SATURDAY MORNING, A rare day off from the store for Rex. He sat in front of the big screen in the living room watching a lecture by a physicist from MIT who was tasked by the President with explaining to a science-challenged nation the steps the newly hatched One-World Authority, in collaboration with Archangel Gabriel, was taking to ward off a collision with the rogue planet Pipnonia.

  The steps involved blowing up, but not really blowing up, all of the world’s stockpiles of nuclear warheads and weapons-grade radioactive material. That is, the various national militaries would detonate the weapons, and the nuclear devices would begin their critical reactions, but after a fraction of a fraction of a second of energetic fissile activity, the energy being released would be “sublimated,” or converted to “virtual” dark energy at a Lagrange point, or “orbital gravitational nexus” a million miles from Earth. According to the lecturer, the only reason Earth physicists used to call dark energy and dark matter “dark” was because they didn’t know what they actually were. The angel cleared up the mystery for them.

  Dark matter was better named “scaffolding” matter, for the part it played in shaping the distribution of ordinary matter in the universe — the planets, stars, dust, and gas — that we observe and interact with. Dark energy was better termed “breeder” energy for its role in the expansion of the universe through the introduction of new space. That is, the professor went on, in simplified terms, the universe was expanding because the creation of more space was continuously inflating it, like blowing up a balloon. What the Visitor’s plan would attempt to do was accelerate universal expansion on a very local level, creating a “bubble” of new space directly in Earth’s path on its orbit around the Sun. Earth’s orbital velocity would not change abruptly, but the extra distance it would have to travel and the general warping of local spacetime would make Earth late for its rendezvous with Pipnonia.

  Furthermore, in the limited time available, as many hydrogen bombs as possible would be converted into much more energetic cobalt bombs, which the angel showed them how to build.

  When all of these devices went off, there would be no explosion, no fireball, mushroom cloud, or radioactive fallout. All of it would be sublimated.

  Altogether this miracle-coated Manhattan Project was called the “Little Nudge” and would take place in one week, on February 2, 2013, three weeks and five days before the Doomsday Clock ran out and Pipnonia plowed into our planet.

  Rex shut off the TV and looked at Rory, who was sitting in the other recliner.

  “Get all of that, son?”

  “I think so.”

  “Think it’ll work?”

  “Maybe, if it wasn’t all a big hoax.”

  Rex laughed. “That’s my boy. Tell you what, go put the camper on the Ford.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’re going to McHardy to pick up your sister.”

  RORY WAS CRANKING the tie-downs that secured the pair of snowmachines to the trailer. Everything was packed and ready to go. Within the hour they would be on the Glenn Highway heading east.

  While Rory hadn’t exactly lied to his dad about believing that the killer planet was a hoax, he hadn’t been one hundred percent honest with him either. After the Governor announced her skepticism over the reality of Pipnonia’s existence and Gabriel’s visit, Bishop Thornby at their church, and a lot of other believers, felt free to voice their own doubts. Bishop Thornby called together the faithful in Wallis for a rare midnight worship on Wednesday to express his insights, and Rory and his parents attended. The bishop concluded, in no uncertain terms, that the whole killer planet scenario went against Scripture.

  Rory had seen the Skyburn, as had everyone else all over the world. How could you fake that? No one could, except maybe Satan, and that was Bishop Thornby’s whole argument. The purpose of the Skyburn was to soften people up, to make them fearful and more susceptible to the subsequent lies about a killer planet. Which led to the tent of many colors, which led to the preemptive strike against world leaders and the rapid establishment of the one-world order, which had, in fact, occurred and which seemed to be under the control of President Obama, all of which heralded the entrance of the Antichrist on the world stage, which true Christians were expecting to witness any day now. And when the Antichrist did emerge and begin his bloody march across the globe, it would all unfold as laid out in Revelation two millennia ago. So there didn’t act
ually have to be a killer Pipnonia planet at all; just the rumor of one to do Satan’s dirty work for him.

  The thing was, Rory had gone against his dad’s wishes and actually made contact with Gabriel. All of the kids at school were doing it (except for the unsaved nitwits who believed in aliens). Rory’s curiosity got the best of him, and he went to Gabriel’s profile on Facebook where the angel initiated a one-to-one correspondence with him. The angel came off as genuine and good. [see Visitor Messages] If he was a devil in disguise, Rory couldn’t tell the difference. So Rory was willing to suspend judgment, to give the whole situation the benefit of the doubt, until he could gather more data. And pray for clarity.

  BIG HUG IN the kitchen. Rory’s mom told him to say hello to all of the Prophecy children who had visited them the previous month and to report that Calgary, the cat, had regrettably never shown up again but that she’d keep looking for her in case one of the neighbors had taken her in.

  “You know as well as I do, Mom, that Calgary is eagle-chow by now,” Rory said.

  “Of course I do, but don’t tell them that!”

  “Don’t worry; I won’t.”

  Cindy hugged him again. “I know.”

  Rex came in. He was wearing his favorite forest green L.L.Bean parka over camo down-insulated overalls. Cindy recognized it as his going-on-an-adventure ensemble.

  “All ready to leave,” he said taking Cindy in his arms and giving her an unusually prolonged squeeze. “I should have gone sooner,” he said.

  “I’m sure she’ll understand. Who knows, she might even want to be rescued by her dad about now.”

  They gathered Rory with them for a little prayer for the road. Then Rex said, “We’ll call with updates,” and he and Rory were halfway to the door when the phone rang.

  Cindy answered and put the call on speaker phone.

  Mom, Dad, Rory, how are you guys? I’m great. Everything is fine here, better than fine. Listen, this is important. I don’t want to come home; in fact, I want you guys to come here, to join us.

  She spoke like she was short on time and out of breath.

  I had a long talk with Pastor and Mrs Prophecy — Oh, great news, Mama P — that’s what we call her — Mama P has woken up! She’s well and had a grand adventure in Heaven, or somewhere, but that’s another story. Anyway, I talked to them and they both agreed to take us all in.

  Cindy said, “Take us all in where?”

  I told you about their shelter, didn’t I? I don’t remember. It’s an old copper mine inside a mountain that they fixed up to live in. They’ve put hundreds of thousands of dollars into food and supplies to keep them seven years during the Tribulation, which is beginning now — the Skyburn, the so-called archangel — you know in your heart it’s really beginning. This is no conspiracy theory. I believe them one hundred percent. These are the End Times. The clock has run out; it’s happening.

  “Dear,” Cindy said. “Ginger, slow down a moment.”

  Please, Mom, let me finish. I’ve grown close to the whole family, and they say they’d welcome all of us. That includes Keagan too. Only, if you can, you should rent a U-Haul or something like they did when they visited us and fill it with supplies. It wouldn’t be fair for us to be freeloaders and use up all their stuff. Rent two U-Hauls, I don’t know, and buy enough to last us seven years. And other survival stuff, tools, medicine — I could send you a list in an email, or you could just Google it. And it’s not like money will be good when —

  “Whoa, daughter, enough,” Rex said. “Take a breath, will you, and allow us to catch up. First, hello, good to hear you’re well. We’re well too. Now, the state of the world. I agree with you that something major is going on. It might be the Apocalypse, but it might be something else —”

  No, Dad, sorry but you don’t see it yet. We had a deal, remember? Remember what I told you when I called a few days ago that Pastor Prophecy had a vision about a new light in the sky. Now there’s a new planet in the sky. I think that qualifies as prophecy, don’t you? He said that people around the world would panic. Well, aren’t they? The deal was if this happened, you’d come out here to shelter with us. All of you.

  “Excuse me, Ginger but there was no deal. Your phone died before we could discuss it. But even if you’re right, Sweetie, and I admit you might be, I think we’d probably stand a better chance of surviving the Tribulation right here in Wallis, rather than in the middle of nowhere. That is, if the Tribulation comes before the Rapture, which I don’t believe is the case. What’s the point of locking yourself up in a mine when you’ll just rapture away anyway? And, yes, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the Skyburn and the angel or Visitor or whatever. I agree something big is going on, but I’m not yet ready to say what —”

  I can prove it to you, Dad. It’s in the Bible — you just have to know where to look. I can show you. If you just come and we hunker down in the keep — that’s what we call it, the keep — if we hunker down in the keep for a few weeks, or months, and nothing happens out there, well, then, we just come back home, no harm done.

  “I do have a business to run.”

  Let Sadie run it for you for awhile. You’ve said a hundred times that she’s capable.

  “Well, she is, and I am putting her in charge for the next few days because Rory and I are all packed up and were just about to leave when you called. We’re coming to pick you up. We’ll be there tomorrow; you should get your stuff together and, if possible, is there any way they can drive you into town, into McHardy, to make it easier to get you?”

  You’re coming? Oh, thank you, Jesus. All praise to Him. Why did you let me go on like that if you’re —

  “I’m coming with your brother, not all of us.”

  Oh, no, don’t do that. That’s the worst. You can’t leave Mom behind. Mom, are you listening? Please, you have to come too. There won’t be time for Dad to come here and then go back to get you. You all have to come together. Rory, are you there?

  “Uh-huh, right here.”

  Someone here’s been asking about you.

  “What? Who?”

  Who do you think, dummy? Deut!

  “Deut’s been asking about me?”

  Yes, she told me specifically to make sure you were coming so you’ll be safe. How do you think you’ll feel if you’re safe here and you left Mom behind?

  “Uh . . .”

  Think about it; maybe I can’t change Dad’s mind, but you can. Don’t leave Mom behind. Or the dog.

  CINDY STOOD UNDER the porch light waving farewell. Keagan, the dog, sat at her feet, shivering.

  The plan had been to gas up on the way out of town, but Rex had failed to take into account what everybody else was doing. Wallis was a six-gas-station town, with most of the stations located on the Parks Highway. Of the six, only two still had gas or diesel to sell, and the queues to the pumps stretched up and down the frontage roads.

  At the Tesoro station, Rex joined one of the lines, but about ten minutes into it, having advanced only a single car length, he pulled out and made a U-turn.

  “Aren’t we getting gas?” Rory said.

  “If it’s this bad in Wallis, imagine what we’ll find in Glennallen.”

  They drove to Greatland Action Sports and pulled around back to the fenced enclosure. Rex got out of the pickup and said, “Help Jerry load two empty drums on the trailer.” He headed for the back entrance but returned a moment later. “Make that three. Two empties and one full of regular gas. There should be enough room.”

  “Yessir.”

  While Rex was in the store, Rory and Jerry secured the 55-gallon (208 l) drums. “You’ll probably want this too,” Jerry said and stowed a hand-cranked fuel pump in the camper cargo space.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, going out to fix up the cabin?”

  “No. Why would you say that?”

  “If I had a remote cabin near Denali, that’s where I’d go when the alien shit hits the fan.”

  “Really? You actually
buy into all that killer planet bullshit?”

  Jerry shrugged. “I don’t know. Looks legit to me.”

  “Looks? You’ve actually seen the planet with your own eyes?”

  “Uh, no, but the Hubble telescope takes a pretty good picture. Ever hear of astronomy?”

  When Rex reappeared, he pointed at cartons and drums in the fenced enclosure and said, “Jer, I want you to move all of that inside the shop. There’ll be looters snooping around sooner or later.”

  “Yessir.”

  They drove back to the gas station to fill the two empty drums and the dual tanks of the Ford 250 with diesel. As they waited in line, Rex reached into a pocket and pulled out the handgun he usually kept in his office desk drawer. He handed it and several boxes of shells to Rory to put in the glove box.

  A couple of hours later, they drove through town to the Glenn Highway. There seemed to be more traffic than usual for a Saturday afternoon in January. When they went past the Fred Meyers, two city cop cars were idling in the parking lot with their lights flashing. On the asphalt between them lay three bodies in pools of blood. From this distance you couldn’t tell if they were the victims or the perps.

  “We’ll have to stock up too when we get back,” Rex said. “If there’s anything left by then.”

  Traffic thinned out on the Glenn. The highway had recently been cleared of snow, and the fine weather promised easy travel. Past Palmer they got their next shock: the foothills north of the highway were denuded of trees. All that was left were branches and stumps. This was on state recreational land, not open to firewood cutting. Then they passed pickups and flatbeds and men with chainsaws on the hillside haphazardly felling trees. No one seemed to be stopping them, and this was in the middle of the day.