by Mark Wandrey
Mindy and Harold got up to head toward the guy interviewing despondent looking candidates. Leo caught them by their shirts. “Over here,” he said. They looked concerned but did as they were instructed. When the queue had worked its way to them Mindy went first.
“Names?”
“Mindy Patoy.”
“Harold Binder.”
“Husband and wife?”
“Hardly!” Mindy laughed.
“Neither of you are on the list, you’re in the wrong line.”
“No they’re not,” Leo said and stepped between them. The agent looked at them, then at Leo before calling over another person.
“Hi, Dr. Skinner, can you tell me what this is all about?”
“Agent Bradley, how are you doing today?”
“A little harried, actually. Who are these people?”
“They’re with me.”
“We went over this at the last meeting; we all agreed.”
“No, you agreed. I told you I need scientists to make this happen. They’ve not been guaranteed anything, just like the rest of your sheep in the other room. The only difference is these two are actually qualified to cross over.”
“That’s not up to you or Dr. Osgood for that matter.” The man glared at them and Mindy felt sweat trickling down her back.
“Right, calmer minds will prevail. Regardless, they are with me, and I insist.” The man named Bradley looked from Mindy to Harold then to Leo. He narrowed his eyes and acted like he’d made a decision. “Volant would recognize an asset when presented with one. This is Mindy Patoy and Harold Binder of SETI.”
“Really now.”
“Really,” Mindy said, “you might be interested in knowing that we’ve been busy deciphering a message from space.”
“I know all about that little scam of yours. Old stories won’t get you on the team.”
“Old story? Maybe you weren’t aware that the code we received was identical in pattern to that which is on the side of the Portal.”
“How do you know what the Portal looks like?”
“We have our sources.”
Just then one of the doors was pushed open and an older man with gray hair shoved his way in. “What code?” he asked them point blank. Bemused looks passed between Mindy and Harold as they realized their interview had been observed through hidden camera.
Leo shook his head and spoke. “Dr. George Osgood, this is Mindy Patoy and Harold Binder of SETI.”
“I know who they are,” Osgood said. “I want to hear about this code.”
“So we’re onboard?”
He looked her over and then chuckled. “Sure, why not. You’re working on the team, we’ll see about the eventuality of that assignment. I only have a say in who crosses over, not the final decision.” They both understood and agreed. Now here she was, days later, working as quickly and efficiently as she could to evaluate other people’s recommendations for equipment to be moved through the Portal.
“Some of these people must be blithering idiots,” Harold said from the desk next to her. He handed Mindy a request form, referred to as an FU2 because of the designation on the bottom, Form U-2. Some faceless bureaucrat had designed the form as a general appropriations form and it had been modified for the Portal Project’s purposes. There was a space for the requesting party’s name and work assignment, a description of the equipment, size, time required for appropriation, and a picture. Many of the forms arrived with either no picture or a hand drawn one, others had catalog pages attached. The form Harold handed her had no picture, and only a description. It said simply “a nuclear power plant”.
“Good Lord,” Mindy said and tossed the form back to Harold. “It’s frightening that this person is working for the same goal as we are.” Harold nodded his head and picked up a stamp, of which he had several. Reject and Return was pressed onto the page, which he then tossed in an overflowing out basket.
“Two days and we’ve hardly made a dent,” he said and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I never thought I’d be playing bureaucrat, man!”
“They’re going about this all wrong,” Mindy agreed. “Only a couple hundred extra kilos each and we keep getting requests for Humvees, helicopters and artillery pieces. If this is the best we can do, the species is doomed.”
They kept working into the afternoon until Skinner suddenly made an appearance. “How are things going?” he asked with a grin.
“Not too well,” Mindy said and stood up to stretch her legs. “Have you seen the kind of idiotic shit they’re trying to send through? Some of it weighs tons, not kilos!” She fished out the nuclear reactor request a handed it to him. He shook his head so she handed him another.
“Can it be broken down and moved through in lots?”
“Sure, but what is the sense in taking a gasoline powered vehicle when you have to take the gas too.”
“We can always drill for more gas on the other side.”
“Leo, it could take decades before we get to the point of being able to search for petrochemicals. Besides, we don’t know if that world even has petrochemical stores, it might not be old enough!” Leo scratched his chin and thought about what she’d said.
“I hadn’t considered that.”
“Neither has anyone else. What happened to getting me a look through the Portal so I can finish fixing that planet’s location? It could tell us a lot about the planetary composition. What region of space it inhabits will tell us a lot about the age of that star system.”
“More politics, kid. We haven’t sent anyone back through since we retook the Portal. They’re planning for the first crossing in about a week which is why we’re pushing to have a list of absolute essential equipment ready.”
“Who’s handling the lists of absolutely essential people?” Harold asked. Leo shrugged and left them alone again. “I fear this whole endeavor is just like the Aries; a way to keep us distracted while they make their own plans.”
“In this case, I don’t agree,” Mindy said as she looked over a particularly well presented requisitions form. Harold gave her a look so she elaborated. “There is a lot of effort being placed into this project by a lot of heavy hitters. Look at some of the names we keep seeing. Senators, Admirals, scientists (though not many), and even a few businessmen. There must be a couple thousand people in on this whole thing right now. They’re beginning to get lax in their security containment. The entire operation is developing an edge of desperation. A “get it done no matter what” attitude. What good is that going to do anyone? If they keep it up they’ll manage to put through a hundred or so completely unqualified people and tons of worthless junk.”
“This is a bummer, man. I mean, no one is even trying to save the Earth. It’s like we’ve all just written the planet off.”
“We’ve been murdered, Harold, that much is obvious.” He looked at her dully and shook his head. “I’m still working on the data from the Portal inscriptions and the signal we received. There might be something in there to help us. A super weapon, a way to make the Portals recharge after one hundred forty-four, or maybe at least some more answers.”
“Answers would be nice. I was thinking of some more direct action.” She looked up and listened. “We’re getting all this data first hand,” he said and tapped a pile of forms. “We know where the stuff is that’s approved; locations anyway. I met this chick, Anabella, she works in personnel. She sorts lists of candidates and looks their personal files over. We were talking over a burrito this morning about how she knew me and you because she’d read our files.”
“How quaint,” Mindy snorted.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“You going somewhere with this?”
“Yeah. Why don’t we make our own lists? Personnel, equipment, everything.”
“Seems like mental masturbation.”
“So we give it to the powers that be when they’re about to make the decisions. At least they get to have competing opinions. We’ll be brutally honest, ut
terly efficient, and as logical as Mr. Spock.” She chuckled and shook her head as he continued. “We can even insert our own requisitions for equipment these idiots are leaving out.”
“We’d need new forms to do that.” Harold took out a bottle of whiteout and she laughed out loud. “They should never have put a hippie on this project.” He grinned big at her. “Okay, let’s do it then. But let’s keep it quiet. Only those we know we can trust.”
“And you know who that is?” Harold asked.
“No, but if I know a sneaky hippie half as well as I think I do, that shouldn’t be a problem. I mean, we’re just doing this as a protest, right? So what difference does it make? I just don’t want to be handed my hat because of our little game.” Harold agreed to be diplomatic and quiet at the same time and they went back to work. All that day they sorted paperwork, stamped forms, and made an occasional photocopy.
It was after seven when they headed home. When they got to their apartment Mindy smiled. There was an unmarked NYPD unit parked across the street. Harold followed her gaze and groaned. “Sorry,” she said and hurried inside.
“Don’t take all night, man!” he called after her, but she was already running up the stairs two at a time. He sat on the bench in front of the building and pulled out his dinner, a sandwich he’d bought on the walk home. “They’re worse than rabbits,” he complained and took a bite, followed by a swig of beer. An older woman walking by with her poodle gave the long bearded, roughly dressed, beer-drinking hippie a dirty look. Harold shot the same look back and took another drink. “Wish I had someone to curl up with,” he said despondently. Sharing an apartment with the long legged and sexy red haired astronomer was driving him to distraction. Even though they’d only been lovers briefly many years ago, he could remember every curve of her body. His hand was no replacement for her sweet secrets. “This sucks, man.”
Mindy ran up to their apartment and fumbled for her keys. The door opened from the inside and Billy was standing there with that devilish grin of his. “I’ve got food,” she said and handed him the bag. He took it and the bottles of beer and placed them in the small refrigerator.
“The food can wait,” he said and turned back around. Mindy already had her top off and was unhooking her bra. “God I love a direct woman,” he moaned and went to her. She got her panties down just as he took her in his arms. With shaking hands she got his pants unbuttoned as he lifted her into his arms. Billy carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. In moments they were lost in each other’s bodies.
Later, when she emerged from the shower, Billy had already laid out the food that she had brought, cold beers next to each place. “Mind if I call Harold in from downstairs? He’s probably pretty lonely down there.”
“No problem, I think we’re done for now.” She laughed and headed over to the window. After she opened it she could see Harold sitting by himself on the bench below.
“Hey you lovable hippie, get up here,” she called three floors down. Before long all three of them were sitting at the table. Harold had finished his food but he kept them company while they ate by working on another beer.
“Things are getting a little better in the city,” Billy told them once they were through eating. “I’ve seen a drop in violent crime, the kind of stuff people do when they either don’t give a shit or figure there’s no long term consequences. Since that space ship headed out to destroy Lebowski, things have started looking up. I think the end of the Followers of the Avatar had something to do with that too. Doomsday cults can’t help the general feeling of well-being.”
“I wish people would stop calling that asteroid ‘Lebowski,” Harold complained.
“It’s a little weird, I agree,” Mindy said.
“One of the Aries crewmen named it and the press ran with it,” Billy explained. He had far more time to watch TV then the others. “Besides, it does look like a bowling pin. That mission feels like everyone’s best hope.”
Harold and Mindy looked at each other but remained quiet. She hadn’t told Billy about her secret fears that the Aries mission was just a distraction. “That’s good to hear,” she said with a big smile. “I’m going to get a look through the Portal in a few days.”
“Really? That should be fascinating. I don’t think I’d be too eager to see that thing. Too many people have died over it, even if it could be an escape route. Besides, we might not need it with Aries.” Mindy sipped her beer and marveled at the government’s plan. Even someone like Billy was at least partially sold on their deception.
They all sat on the couch watching TV. It was becoming their evening ritual. Later, when Harold and Mindy went to their separate beds Billy would leave and go back to his condo. She wished he would stay.
They usually didn’t watch the news, it was often too depressing. That night there was some special items that made them stay tuned when the usual sitcoms and cop shows were concluded. The top story was the same as it had been for days. The Israeli-Arab war was still raging. UN representatives had descended on Tel-Aviv searching for evidence that bio weapons had been employed. More than a million Israelis were now sick and tens of thousands dead. A certain ex-president was there stomping around and saying any bio weapons were certainly those used by the Jews. While the Israelis had succeeded in pushing the Arabs back and gained some breathing room, this was the morning the first of the Iranian commandos arrived.
As the reporter spoke on screen you could see flashes of light and hear the thumps of distant explosions. The reporter was explaining that twice the Arabs had managed to get artillery within range only to have it destroyed by the IDF. This time the Arab armies were moving up in force and would be set up within the hour. Tanks with the Star of David had tried unsuccessfully three times to storm the positions. They were running out of time. The reporter said the military feared another chemical attack. There were scattered reports that the prime minister had succumbed to smallpox and the military was now in charge.
They watched the broken reports of huge formations of Arab tanks gathering outside Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem. The ancient surplus Arab tanks were little match for the modern IDF monsters, but the Israelis were running low on ammunition. The reporter said he felt the end was near. Suddenly the camera showed a flight of Israeli jets rocketing low over the city. With practiced precision they broke formation and went in different directions. Smoke trails in the sky showed missiles racing up to intercept the fighters. Several of the missiles found their marks and fighters burst into flames. “This new fighter counter attack by the Israeli Defense Force seems to be bypassing the frontal elements of the Arab armies,” stated the reporter for the viewing audience. “I’m not sure what they might be targeting, but rest assured we will report once-” the report was cut off as just to one side of the camera a blinding flash lit the screen and then the entire picture dissolved into static.
The picture stayed blank for a minute before a confused news anchor from the local New York affiliate appeared, still hastily attaching his microphone. “W-we are uncertain what has just happened outside of Tel-Aviv. We have scattered reports of huge explosions. Wait, I’m being told we have another camera view from inside of Tel-Aviv. We’re going live with our correspondent, Jane Black.”
The image changed and showed a stunned-looking female reporter in stylishly cut camouflage fatigues standing on a rooftop. She was quite excited and could barely speak. “You need to look,” she gasped in heavily accented English, “I don’t have words for what we’re seeing!” The cameraman panned to look out away from the city. Blooming in the desert was a perfectly formed mushroom cloud climbing rapidly into the sky. The camera moved to another direction and found a second mushroom cloud, then a third. “They’ve used nuclear weapons!” screamed the reporter, now completely hysterical. “The Arab-Israeli war has just-” She never finished her sentence; another blinding flash of light turned the view to static. As the image switched back to the local anchor, her hideous screams echoed in their ears.
"What the fuck is going on?" Volant screamed into his phone. He had been in physical therapy when the building lurched and the water in the whirlpool sloshed onto the floor. When the lights went out many of the other patients screamed in terror. Volant ignored the pain from his stitched stomach and pulled himself from the whirlpool to retrieve his bath kit, and the compact .40 caliber Glock concealed there.
The emergency lights came on, casting their dim spotlights across the physical therapy room and illuminating all the frightened faces. Volant's therapist, a skinny guy he was sure was queer, turned and saw his patient was out of the tub and gave Volant a stern shake of his finger.
Volant rolled onto his side so the man could see the weapon he was holding. "Just get me into the wheelchair, Tinkerbell."
"Well!" he harrumphed and came to help him. He also never took his eyes off the firearm. In no time he was in his room and grabbing his cell phone to call Steve Harper. The temporary commander of Volant's section answered immediately and listened to Volant's questions.
"We don't know what happened yet," Steve told him. "I got a message from the CIA about an hour ago that something had happened in India. No specifics were provided. All the seismometers in the region have been knocked out. The analyst I spoke to said it looked like some kind of an explosive shockwave." Volant wondered how big a blast had to be to shake buildings halfway around the world.
"What about the power loss?"
"Someone just handed me a page on that." There was the sound of rustling pages as the other man read. "New York Power & Light is reporting that a semi-truck slid off the road during that shock and hit a high tension line. Power should be back up inside of two hours.”
“This is creating opportunities. I want you to beef up the cordon around the Portal City so no one takes advantage. There might still be more Followers of the Avatar around.”