Madness

by Bill Wetterman

  Creature, yes—one with a blank slate for a soul.

  #

  Pendleton peeked through the curtains at a group of people gathering outside his hotel. He orchestrated the broadcasts on the Global News Networks from his new home in Zurich. The native population visited his location, particularly the populace of Switzerland who were within a bike ride of his Widder Global Headquarters. The curious wanted to see their new world leader. However, Pendleton rarely appeared in public. He had too much to do, so his team leaders came to him. The hotel converted its rooms into residences for Pendleton and his family, his staff, and executives coming in and out of Zurich to meet with him. Pendleton insisted on a living space of 1800 square feet, one-fifth of any of his previous residences.

  His mum lay asleep on a divan with George in her arms. When he had a dilemma, Pendleton felt comfortable with her near. His longtime friend, Milton Rogers, appeared smitten by Anne—not at all in Pendleton’s plans. Not that he didn’t want happiness for them both, he did. However, the distraction didn’t fit right now. He needed Milton focused on global security. Managing the egos of four strong generals was a sticky wicket at best.

  The telly flashed to four large ocean barges approaching an area north of Tern Island in the North Pacific. Another group of ships readied themselves off the West Coast of the United States for a mission north of the Guadalupe Island. The vessels were the first of what would become an estimated five-year project to clean up the oceans. Dredging solid materials off the surface of the oceans, as small as a centimeter in width, and syphoning smaller particles to a depth of a quarter kilometer, the barges could remove eighty percent of the manmade waste from the oceans. Yet, the greater task was preventing the material from entering the sea in the first place.

  “Un-recyclable material from the world’s trash cleanup system will be sent to sites being prepared in the Sahara Desert,” the narrator said.

  The scene swung to show an area in the hyper-arid regions of the Sahara along the border between the former nations of Algeria and Chad. The cameras swept the amazing panorama revealing a new construction project.

  “The plan is to dig down over a hundred and fifty feet and create six-foot thick concrete containers three-hundred feet by three-hundred feet by fifty-feet high and bury material that can’t be recycled.”

  The announcer, based in Miami, pointed to a convoy of trash haulers over a mile long waiting to unload waste material onto vessels bound for the Sahara. “These trucks carry the remnants of materials deemed unrecyclable from clean-up efforts in the United States. The government appreciates our citizens’ help in restoring our world. Now we’ll go to the North American Continent weather forecast.”

  The transition to a sane society would take years, maybe longer than Pendleton would live. Sadly, he’d ordered the destruction of areas where the population refused to turn over weapons and drugs. The brutal, lightning attacks and the inhuman clean-up following were broadcast live worldwide, adding to the general fear, but spurring compliance from an overwhelming portion of the global population.

  Pendleton had to be at the hospital in two hours, but Van Meer was coming up with Milton Rogers to discuss how to handle new instances of rebellion.

  “Mum,” he said, rubbing her back gently. “I have a short meeting and Milton will be here.”

  “Oh,” she groaned. “Well, I certainly don’t want him seeing me like this. I’ll take George to my room.”

  “How serious is this thing between you two?”

  “We like each other’s company, Son. If the heat turns up, I’ll let you know, so you won’t be embarrassed.”

  Pendleton’s cheek twitched a bit.

  “Did I hit a sore spot?” Her snide little smirk surprised him. “We’re quite able to handle our relationship ourselves. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I stopped telling you what to do years ago.”

  “It’s just. . . “

  “It’s just that I’m your mother. I know. But, I’m not going to waste away living by myself. Whether it’s Milton or someone else, I do intend to have fun in my later years. So don’t be a prude.”

  She gathered George and his things together and headed for the door. “I love you, Son.”

  “I love you too.”

  She was out the door and gone.

  Pendleton shivered as he had when his mum caught him with Irene Duffy when he was sixteen. He couldn’t control his mother. She wasn’t a teenager. Seemingly, he couldn’t control anything one hundred percent, particularly her.

  Five minutes later a knock on the door said Rogers and Van Meer had arrived.

  “The natives are restless out here,” Van Meer said, as Pendleton opened the door.

  “I don’t see any natives.”

  “Then you haven’t looked outside.”

  Pendleton hurried to the window as Rogers and Van Meer entered. What had been a small group on bicycles had swollen to a crowd of thousands. Most were dressed in the type of Global Realm wear with the insignia on the breast pocket. A few still wore traditional clothing. Many carried flags of support reading, “Save the Planet.”

  “You’re in charge of security.” Pendleton playfully poked Van Meer in the chest. “Keep these people orderly.”

  “Well, they are orderly. But at one time or another, you will have to greet them in person.”

  That thought was God-awful uncomfortable.

  The three sat down at a round table, and Pendleton pulled out a list of questions. “First, Milton, assess the loyalty of our four key commanders.”

  Rogers nodded and gave a folder on each commander to Pendleton and Van Meer. “General Marco Giamo understands the game. He’s convinced General Ruthman to come onboard. I believe we have a strong friend in Giamo and the full support of the former U.S. military.”

  “I wish we’d have been able to neutralize Monroe.” Pendleton tapped Giamo’s file in his hand “Edmunds would have allowed us access to the missiles without the necessity of using Professor Cline, but we didn’t. I’m glad we have Giamo onboard now.”

  “Next, Vito Costello.” Rogers frowned. “The man’s not the leader the other three are. He’s loyal, absolutely no chance of his leading a rebellion, but he’s not decisive.”

  “Can we afford him in his position for three years? Should we make a move now?”

  “I plan to give General Sakharov the tactical responsibility over Europe, the Middle East and Africa with your approval,” Rogers said. “I’ll switch Costello into the role of balancing firepower. Seeing to it, areas having an over-balance of weaponry cede their excess to areas with a need.”

  “Will Sakharov work well alongside Jarvis Franks?”

  “Other than an occasional emotional twitch from Franks, I don’t expect a problem.”

  “You have my approval,” Pendleton said. “What about General Tzu Chui?”

  “An amazing strategist, leader, and survivor,” Rogers said.

  “Do I hear a but?”

  “My gut tells me Chui understands the necessity for a one-world government now. He’s onboard with the need for saving the planet. He agrees with the idea of resource and distribution planning from a global perspective, but long term, his profile shows a desire to rule. If anyone would be a challenge to you as First Citizen in the future, it’s Chui.”

  “Define future?”

  “Chui mentioned ten years several times when discussing Li Ziyang’s plans to wait before breaking away from our union. He said both Ming and Ziyang agreed on a ten-year window. I think Chui will work within that timeframe.”

  “What steps would he take to elevate his position and gain control?”

  “What would you do?” Van Meer asked.

  “Play nice for the first few years, while receiving promotions into positions of influence with key Global Realm executives. Plant seeds of discontent on problems that already exist, and embellish the government’s mistakes. Obtain a silent following, and test out at the highest level. If I didn’t win the role
peacefully, I’d assassinate my rival thereby gaining control.”

  “Yes, the same formula you used with Eric Throgmorton, your old nemesis.” Van Meer grinned. “And Chui is like you. He supports the mission as you did when you joined the W.F.C. Like all great megalomaniacs, he’s sure he can achieve greater success than anyone else.”

  “Define megalomaniac!” Pendleton snapped. He might be a narcissist, but not a megalomaniac.

  “A megalomaniac would rather be powerful than charming and feared rather than loved.”

  “Well then I’m a mix of the two. I wish to be powerfully charming and lovingly feared.”

  “There were three men who conquered most of the known world,” Rogers said. “None were destroyed by military might, Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, and Timer the Lame. All were megalomaniacs in a sense. All had these traits. They were organized. They gave people a cause to follow them, and they were military geniuses. You have exceeded them all, and with less bloodshed.”

  Pendleton smiled. “People have to fear you enough not to try to kill you.”

  “Wrong,” Van Meer said. “You have to have invincible protection. Lots of buggers want to off the First Citizen of the Realm.”

  He hated to admit the fact that Van Meer was right. The security team for Arthur Pendleton needed as much thought as the security team for the Global Realm.

  Chapter 30

  Beijing, China

  Ling Tsi Li, Director of Distribution and Logistics, studied the area around Turpan, China, a long fourteen-hundred miles from the distribution centers on the former China’s east coast. He reminded himself once more that borders had no meaning and sent an email.

  “Citizen Karamazov, as a practical matter, your warehouse and distribution center in Irkutsk is strategically located to service the area around Turpan and our former western borders. If we extend our help into southeastern Mongolia, which is 400 kilometers closer to our facility, could you supply our former northwestern border area?”

  Within a minute, Li had an affirmative reply. The control board in his office lit up with an interactive map and population schematics. In another five minutes, he and Karamazov had balanced the service areas and received a best practice signal from the computer, which agreed with their redistribution.

  Li pushed back from his workstation. Earth was becoming an amazing world. He joined the Global Realm, tested, received the job, and hired his staff based on their specific capabilities and interview results. He automatically forwarded everything he did to Global Headquarters. The Global Headquarters worldwide distribution computer reviewed the data and stored it for consideration at a Global level.

  Pendleton’s followers accomplished this with just over a decade of planning, amazing.

  Li reviewed the product lists coming in from his field supervisors. The same type products for each social level would furnish every living unit in the world. Depending on availability and profession, each family would have three choices of paint colors for the walls and three choices of decor, each piece of furniture, each fixture, and each utensil—right down to the napkins.

  Ingenious, Li thought. He’d examined the materials used in their manufacturing and marveled even further. The construction of the individual pieces would last for centuries. The Global Realm took a minimalist attitude. Humanity wasted too much. A smile crossed Li’s face. Yes, they slaughtered those who resisted. From where he sat, only the stupid chose to resist such a benevolent government. Rid the earth of them, he thought.

  #

  Near Tabriz, Iran

  A reporter for the Global Network Eastern Division sat down in a distribution center in northwestern Iran to conduct an interview with a Russian soldier and an Iranian baker. Outside, forces guarded rubble piled twelve feet high, waiting for Global recycling trucks to cart the material away. The men spoke no English or Mandarin Chinese, and translators guided the conversation. The reporter asked the Russian, “Ivan, how has your role here in the former Iran changed since your army liberated them?”

  The soldier sighed. “I’ve gone from a warrior to a relief worker, as the new world order has asked.”

  “You sound conflicted by this change of fortune. Please explain.”

  “Adjusting to my new responsibilities is stressful. My role in the Russian army was to supply and transport weapons. Now I’m asked to supply the needs of the populace.”

  “A much more pleasant task, I would think,” the reporter said.

  The soldier gave a thin smile. “As long as the new government is serious, it is a more pleasant task indeed. I’m skeptical. I’ve never lived in a peaceful world. Call me a doubter. I’ll hold my tongue until I believe peace is real.”

  “Have you been tested?”

  “Yes, in two months I’m to report to the central distribution regional office in Budapest as a product-line supervisor. I’m told my wife has been selected for a job there as well.”

  “That seems like great news after all the destruction you’ve seen.”

  “They have already transferred my wife to Budapest. Yes, this is great news indeed.”

  The reporter turned to the baker, “I understand you are staying here in Tabriz and will schedule delivery routes for food distribution.”

  “Yes, I know the area. My business experience with the people here will be useful, and I’m Muslim. They will trust me.”

  “Is trust still an issue?”

  “Some will never trust. For the rest, trust will be a long process. The government destroyed many holy sites. The people will not easily forget.”

  #

  In London’s Global Network Western Division

  Stan Kaplan, former CNN field correspondent, hurried into his first leadership meeting since his transfer from Atlanta and took his seat. As Director of Field Correspondents, establishing and implementing Global Realm protocol took the highest priority.

  Farouk Abdullah, Global Realm Minister of Justice, rose to address the group. “First, we are a group of equals. Yes, there is a structure for reporting. However, as citizens of the Global Realm, we have the same goal. Perform our assignments capably, honestly, and fairly. Now, how are your reporters received by the populace?”

  Kaplan squirmed a bit. He’d only been in this job for a week and was still coming up to speed.

  “There’s no way to accurately assess,” the head of the network said, taking Kaplan off the hook. “Your Global Security people are always visible. How can individual citizens be honest?”

  “That will pass when the people see nothing bad happens when they speak their minds.”

  “Then ask us that question another time,” the network head said with a bite in his tone.

  Kaplan inched his hand up. “May I make a comment?”

  “Go ahead,” Abdullah answered.

  “Before I was reassigned, I spent six weeks in the field in the former United States and Mexico. Whoever developed the security team training did a good job.”

  “That would be me.” Abdullah said without a change in his stoic countenance.

  “The people on the street understand the difference between the Chicago incident and public safety.” Kaplan gulped some water and continued. “Until the average citizen settles into the new way of life, crisis-trained correspondents need to be doing the live reporting, people who covered rebellions and wars. You can’t put the average twenty-something that used to report on local robberies on the street.”

  “Agreed, and as you may already have noticed,” Abdullah said. “Our emphasis isn’t on human failings. The news will not point out the flaws of others. We’ll catch and punish criminals without all the media coverage. Our objective is reporting the Global Realm’s efforts to accomplish our objectives and doing so honestly.”

  Kaplan mulled that comment over. “We can assist in the openness by emphasizing the Global Realms interest in the public’s opinion without repercussions.”

  “Please do.” Abdullah inspected the faces in the room. “Idle hands and
drugs almost destroyed our society. I believe you will find that as citizens delve deeply into their work resistance will disappear.”

  “Our unit will cooperate in every way to report changes in attitude to you,” the head of the network said.

  “Yes, you will,” Abdullah replied.

  Kaplan took note of the tone and the demeanor of Abdullah’s response.

  Oh my, the words are encouraging, but the tone says ‘stick to the program,’ or else.

  Chapter 31

  Peacock slipped on an evening outfit designed by the Global Realm, red, form fitting with a gold insignia, indicating she’d scored in the upper one percent in all her modules. The meeting with her husband and Doctor Levi would take place in the neurosurgical consultation room. She applied a light blush to her cheeks and examined the hair growth around her incision. Another month and she wouldn’t have to wear a hairpiece.

  “Are you ready?” Doctor Pederson asked over the intercom.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” she answered.

  This meeting would determine her future. Yet, she viewed it as if she were going to a class at the university and knew she’d ace the exam. Peacock went off down the hall, pacing step-by-step alongside Doctor Pederson. Then she took the lead, and he fell in behind her without an instruction to do so. Yes, she would have a successful meeting.

  She burst through the door and surveyed the room. Pale blue walls and white wood trim gave the meeting area a clean crisp look. The curved desk behind which Levi would judge her performance shined with polish, so she could see her face on the finish. She visualized him smiling at her and hurrying behind the desk to gain the power position. He’d set her file in the center of the desk before sitting down. She would ignore the file and make eye contact with him. She would stare at him until he flinched. Then she’d have the power, regardless what happened next.

  Doctor Pederson sat down to Peacock’s left. The chair on her right she presumed Arthur would sit in. A few minutes passed. Then Levi entered followed by Pendleton. Levi did as she expected, right down to the light thump, as he dropped her file in the center of the table. Thirty seconds later, he flinched.