Foresight America
© Paul Adkins
Introduction
This novel was prepared in November 2006 as part of the annual National Novel Writing Month. It is a sequel to Tony Williams’ novel The Foresight War. In that book, Tony speculated on the a World War Two fought with Germany and Britain aided by time-travelers. This work simply expands on that theme.
His is a remarkable book. I appreciate it all the more after having banged away on this one. Despite having being exposed to thousands of sharpshooters on the Internet, I don’t think a single important technical mistake has ever been found in it.
In addition to Tony, many other people on the internet contributed to this. They added fresh insights and technical knowledge far out of my reach. For example Luciano M. Trentadue proposed the idea of an Italian throwback and made many wise comments that have been a great help. As a result, I suspect this story may tread a fine line between collaborative effort and outright plagiarism. It was written as a harmless diversion and in no case should this story be reprinted for profit in any media.
If there is any good in this work it is entirely due to my collaborators. All of the mistakes and faults are mine alone.
Chapter 1
The room was far too warm in the Washington summer. But the tall windows had been closed to prevent eavesdroppers; inside it was stifling. Charles Lindbergh stood near a window, his white linen suit rumpled by the humidity, holding a digital watch, watching as the seconds rushed by.
“No noise at all.” He reported as he held the artifact to his ear.
“No moving parts,” General Marshall replied, “we took it apart and couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.” His soft voice carried authority. “It was made in Japan, by the way.”
Lindberg raised an eyebrow and shook the device gently. “This,” he pointed to the timepiece, “means it is all true, every word of it.”
Marshall stepped away “Yes, colonel, every word as far as we can tell. He is who he says he is and he as come from where he says he came.”
“Or came from when he will come,” Senator Taft corrected with a harrumph. “He is the genuine article, a throwback from the year 2000, a time traveler.”
The crowd in the room was generating a low buzz. Groups had formed around the watch, the “laptop computer” and a copy of the Washington Post dated sixty-four years in the future.
Taft straightened himself and rapped on the polished table. “Let us reconvene,” the men, they were all men, began to return to their seats.
“Can we agree, I presume, that the evidence is clear?” the senator from Ohio began. A gentle murmur of agreement went around the meeting.
“General, will you recap what we know?” Taft asked.
The heat did not seem to bother Marshall at all, “Gentlemen, in twenty years, the United States will be the world’s leading power. We will have influence at least as wide as the British do now. Our industry will lead the world. Our people will be the richest and arguably the happiest; our culture will dominate. In fact the world at large will be at peace, democracy and free trade will be the rule. But,” he paused to consider his next words, “between then and now is World War II.”
“Why not just prevent the war? Or stay out of it?” a voice asked from the end of the table.
“Consider where we are,” a State Department man replied, looking into his interlaced fingers, “It is 1935, Hitler and Stalin are already in power. The Japanese are already in Manchuria up to their necks.
The reports from there are simply horrible, until now quite unbelievable. If we do nothing, if we avoid being drawn in, China will become a Japanese vassal, Russia and Germany will slug it out to see who can enslave Europe, we will be untouched and the only power left to confront the Japanese on one side, and either the Germans or Soviets on the other. We will be their only target and we will be alone.”
“Further, gentlemen,” Marshall spoke again, “the blueprint of the future we now have is delicate.
Everything we do now will change it in a thousand unpredictable ways. If we arrange our affairs so that we stay out of the fight we can say with certainty that the postwar world that we now have projected will never come to be. With no free Europe or Asia to trade with we will be much, much poorer, much less influential, much more isolated. The world predicted by Doctor Frederick is very close to our ideal, but even a small misstep will change that future in unknowable ways, ways that will be less desirable to the United States.”
“From what we have been told, the war will lead directly to end of this damn depression, or to say it another way, with no war, the world will remain in this economic,” Taft waved his open hands vaguely,
“funk. The war is, was, will be, the central event in recasting the world in our favor. With a major war, we know we are destined for a happy prosperous future, with no war we face an uncertain, and probably more dangerous fate.”
Oddly, it was the representative from the Treasury who then interrupted, “We cannot allow the world to go down the path it is now on. Germany and Russia must not be allowed to dominate the world, to dominate us.”
“When can we meet this time-traveler?” asked a representative from the Agriculture Department Taft spoke sternly to the entire group, “The President has decided to keep him under wraps. We have assigned a team of minders to this fellow. They will debrief him and pass his information to General Marshall, the President and myself. We will then pass selected gems to you at this table. You are to act at once, and strongly, but under no circumstances are you to give the slightest hint as to your source of inspiration.”
Marshall spoke again, “Together, we form the Oversight Committee. Oversight is our highest secret.”
Chapter 2
Winston Frederick had been moved to a nice apartment on the grounds of The Old Soldiers’ Home. It was as isolated and secure a place could be found in Washington. Rough-looking FBI men lounged around the building. Outside his door, in the hallway, another guard sat in a wooden chair he had propped against a wall. Winston Frederick, PhD., was a prisoner of the United States Government.
Still, it was a comfortable prison with high ceilings complete with electric fans that kept the rooms airy and comfortable. Perhaps it was a retirement apartment for some general, he thought. In the kitchen, the percolator bubbled happily. Somehow, the coffee here tasted better than it did in his own time.
A week had passed between his arrival, his meeting with General Marshal. Nobody would believe him at first of course, but first the watch, then the organizer, then the laptop had convinced them. And now, he was confronted by three uniformed men in his living room.
“Would you please join me?” he asked. The officers, two army, one navy took seats around the coffee table with its tray of cookies. “I am at your service,” Winston had had a week to adjust to the idea of his mysterious transportation back two-thirds of a century. These men were still trying to accept the reality of the miracle who sat across from them.
“So how is the future?” the air corps lieutenant colonel, with the unlikely name of Tom Byrd, asked.
He bent a cookie in his hand, examining its contents closely.
“You read my report to General Marshal? If all goes as it should, the future is a wonderful time, not without trouble, but safer and happier than today. But if we monkey with it too much, history could take a very different course.”
The other army man, a full colonel named Larry Orbino with engineer castles on his lapels, nodded
“Chaos theory, butterflies and all that, we discussed that already. We need to act slowly and with subtlety, but still, it has been decided that we will act.”
The navy captain, Hereford, more formal than the rest, got down to business. “Furthermore, our
political masters agree with your contention, the war cannot be avoided. Doctor Frederick,” he continued, “our instructions are to pick your brain with the object of fighting this war in the most effective manner and to the best result possible. We will pass our, your, information and recommendations up to the highest level where they will decide exactly what to do. Still, your words do carry great weight, I can promise you that.”
“So where shall we begin?” Winston asked.
“We drew lots,” Commander Hereford replied, “The navy goes first.”
“First off,” the time traveler said, “This interservice rivalry has got to stop. This war is going to require very close cooperation between all the services.” All three men were making notes. “On a more immediate level, we know that at the end of this war, battleships will have been surpassed in importance by aircraft carriers and submarines. We can take advantage of that.”
Hereford looked up from his tablet. “We already knew that,” he said defensively. “But, there is a difference between knowing,” He indicated his head, “and really knowing.” He pointed to his heart. “In any case, the shipbuilding program is being recast,” he concluded.
“How so?” Winston asked.
“The oblivious things, new ships for the navy and the merchant marine will be in next year’s budget.
We presume that is earlier than last time around. The Washington Treaty is pretty liberal on submarines and carriers, so we will push that way. Still the battleships in the pipeline now are too far along to cancel.
I imagine you can help us a bit with design?”
“I am a generalist,” Doctor Frederick replied, “still I have some ideas now and would bet you more ideas will come to mind as we get further into it.”
“All we need are clues, the engineers can make them work. Even sketches will help.”
Larry, the Army engineer agreed, “We have people who are advocating the sort of things you propose. But up to now they were just one set of voices competing for attention. Now they will get priority.”
“So how can the Army benefit from my information?” Winston asked.
“Some weaponry of course, but mainly as Commander Hereford said, people in key places now really understand here,” he indicated his chest “that the world is going to Hell in a handbasket.”
“OK, so let’s start with the big stuff, we will go into details later.” Winston proposed. The three men nodded in unison. “Civil rights first of all.” The professor began, leaning backing his chair.
“Is that a priority?” Byrd asked.
“This war is, will be for, American ideals. We cannot win it with one hand toed behind our back.
Keeping a tenth of the population from contributing all they can will cost lives.” Winston said as if lecturing a slow student.
“It could cost Roosevelt the White House.” Orbino said.
“We have to have FDR, without him everything could spin in unpredictable ways.” Frederick was firm.
“Don’t you all worry about Franklin Roosevelt. He is a smart cookie and if anyone can pull this off he can. Besides, Senator Taft will want his anti-lynching law for his cooperation with us.” Hereford exaggerated his drawl and pointed to the other two officers, “You boys underestimate us southerners, we know what we have to do, and we can certainly do better than we did in Doctor Frederick’s time.”
“I cannot believe the country is ready for Negro officers, doctors, politicians.” Orbino maintained.
“Hell, Negro millionaires! It’s all a matter of leadership. As long as the Negroes are gaining along with the white population, it can be managed.” The navy man insisted.
“Not our problem, let’s just send it up the chain.” The army engineer retreated.
“What’s next?”
“We had a thing in my time called the Goldwater-Nichols Act. The military hated it, but it was a very good idea.” Winston changed the subject. “Every officer above a certain rank, say lieutenant colonel or colonel has to serve time with the other services. So a navy man has to go to Army War College, or a soldier has to serve on a naval staff.”
“I can see why they hated it.” Orbino murmured as he continued to write in his notebook.
“They got used to it, so will you. Think about it, in this fight we are going to have to land entire corps on hostile beaches. We will have thousands of aircraft supporting ground troops. We have to be ‘joint’ in our thinking and in our training.” Winston was hitting his stride, just like lecturing over at Howard. “We started this war with a Joint Army/Navy Board and finished it with a Joint Chiefs of Staff, we might as well get it right from the get-go this time around. Also we will need an academic base, we can’t just build a military for the last war. Now war will demand new technology, we need the world’s best universities and thousands of scientists, technicians and people who can work with the latest stuff. “Then we need the industry to build all the stuff we can dream up. First step is to get the economy up and running.”
The group talked far into the night.
Chapter 3
The Army car met him at midnight. The FBI man had brought down the single suitcase with all of Doctor Frederick’s processions and waited beside him. Apparently, an olive-drab Packard with huge white stars on its doors was considered to be the most discreet way to take him across town.
Tom got out of the back seat with a smile. “General Arnold sends his compliments,” he waved at the car. As the luggage was tossed in the trunk, the Air Corps man solicitously opened the front passenger side door for his charge. The black driver in his wool uniform got back in and pulled away. He did not even glance at Frederick who was groping for a nonexistent seat belt.
The darkened city was familiar to Winston. The grid pattern of streets was of course the same as the city he had mysteriously left a month ago. The tracks down the middle of the street, some with lonesome trolley cars, were new. Tom was chatting amiably, but the time-traveler’s mind was on the city that was passing by. Suddenly he asked, “Won’t a black man in such a nice car attract attention?”
“That, sir” Tom replied with mock ceremony “is why you are in the front seat.” The driver smiled discreetly.
He was able to recognize E Street and the Bureau of Printing and Engraving Building. The car pulled past a guard who saluted and dove down a ramp first into a basement, and then sub-basement, garage.
The car crawled along a tall, but narrow corridor and reached a loading dock. Military policemen lounged in pools of light along its length.
Tom leaned forward and grasped the professor’s shoulder, “Could you please open the door for me, doctor?” Tom led the way, and Winston followed across the loading dock and into the Presidential rail car, the Ferdinand Magellan.
The light inside the plush dining room was even worse than outside. It was all Winston could do to follow his escort down the corridor to a small bedroom.
“The President is asleep. He will meet you at breakfast. Everyone thought this was the most private venue. He’s on his way to New York, so we’ll have a couple of hours alone with him.” With that, Tom left Winston to explore his cabin. It was small, not much more than a tiny berth and a built-in desk and chair. Still, it was quite well thought-out, with the desk concealing a small sink and the chair a functional commode. A porter brought his suitcase and hung his clothes in the miniature closet and explained the train would be leaving in a few hours. With that, Doctor Winston Frederick put on his cotton pajamas and laid out on the firm mattress. He did not even notice the gentle bump as the locomotive pulled the train out of its secret station.
The phone near his head buzzed gently, and a female voice said “Doctor Frederick, it is six o’clock.
Breakfast will be served in forty-five minutes. The weather will be clear and cool in New York.”
Dressing for breakfast posed no problem as he had remarkably few items. He put on his best dark suit with a crisp shirt and was pleasantly surprised to find his shoes had been shined ov
ernight.
He need not to have bothered. Franklin Roosevelt sat at the head of the table in what seemed to be a conventional dining room chair dressed in pajamas and a worn blue bathrobe. He waved with a cigarette to the seat on his right. General Marshall was already seated on the President’s left, Tom to his side.
Both sat with stiff formality.
“A pleasure, Doctor Frederick,” Roosevelt said with a wide but thin grin. His handshake was powerful. “Sit down and help yourself.” He indicated an elaborate silver coffee service. “So, let me see here,” the President said, pretending to glance at a typed page on the table, “born in Baltimore twenty years from now, graduated from Harvard summa cum laude forty years from now, appointed a full professor of history at Howard just fifty-five years from now. Is that about it?”
“Arrived here about a month ago, Mister President,” replied Winston.
“Well, we may not know why you are here, but we would be fools not to take advantage of such a happenstance.” The President passed a plate of pastries to his guest. “The remarkable thing is you provide little of your information that is new to us. We know about Hitler, we know about the Japanese, but until now,” he again waved to his notes, “we did not really believe they would be so mad.”
“Well, sir,” everything looks clearer in hindsight,” Winston said.
“Hindsight, exactly.” The grin again, “Senator Taft and his little group were impressed with your information. They said that war is at this point inevitable. That being the case we need to arrange things so it will be as short as possible and put as few American lives at risk as we can.” He stared out the window, Pennsylvania was passing by. “Obvious, really, if we handle this properly we can reach the postwar promised land with a minimum of wandering through the wilderness. Tell me about this Chaos Theory of yours.”
Fortunately, Winston had finished his first bite of a croissant, “Not my theory sir, I don’t know who came up with it. It says a little change now can make a big difference over time. A butterfly flapping his wings in Africa today can cause a hurricane in Florida next month.”
Paul Adkins Page 1