by Orson B Wolf
This wasn’t how grandma had educated David. On the contrary, she had encouraged him to demonstrate patience and understanding for everyone, without exception. She preached that every person is inherently good, even if it was sometimes hard to see. “Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth.” Was one of her favorite bible quotes.
But in the moment of truth, he’d acted in the exact opposite way. A sense of unease climbed up his throat. He had betrayed his grandmother and had committed the sin of vanity, or “hubris,” just like they had learned in literature class. Ironically enough, grandma was the one who had to pay for his sins. Tears welled in his eyes. Knowing she was all right, that was all he wanted. To hug and kiss her. Beg her forgiveness.
Max stopped next to David with the ball in his mouth. The dog wagged his tail hesitantly, unsure how he should cheer up his owner who was obviously in a state of distress. David hadn’t even noticed the dog’s presence, even when the latter released his grip from the ball and allowed it to drop to the ground.
Max went to David and actually sat on him, an action that would have brought about bouts of laughter-filled wrestling any other day, but not today. David didn’t even budge. The dog sighed and rose to his feet, took a few steps back, and crouched with his face resting on his paws. He looked at David with concern.
David continued to sit with his eyes closed and asked himself what advice grandma would have whispered in his ear right now. He muttered the obvious answer: “Pull yourself together!”
The cell phone vibrated in his hand.
Unknown: Come see grannie alone, and you’d better not tell anybody.
He shuddered and took a deep breath, reminding himself that grandma was still alive and well, that there was still hope. He had to answer the kidnappers, to buy some time. Jackie must want to put his hands on his cell phone and the password for the prophet software, but how could he know they would actually release grandma once they get what they wanted?
David’s concern was replaced with another emotion, one he had never felt before. How dare Jackie hurt this wise, generous woman? What did he have to offer to the world other than an empty, muscle-bound pose and a mocking attitude?
David clenched his teeth and stared down at his hands, both fisted so hard that the knuckles had turned white. That new emotion filled him from head to toe. It was rage.
He rose to his feet, took another deep breath, and texted his reply.
David: Don’t hurt her. I’m on my way.
Then he logged into the prophet software and sent his people an urgent message: “Mrs. Edna Emerson is being held against her will, in her apartment in Green Pines, California. Here are your instructions: 1. Locate her. 2. Have a special task force ready next to her apartment complex. 3. Wait for further instructions.”
He went to Max and attached the leash to his collar. For a brief moment, he thought about going back upstairs to get a coat or an umbrella, but shook his head dismissively. There wasn’t any time to waste.
He coughed for a long moment, and the coughing drained what little remained of his strength. His head started spinning and he leaned against the wall. It was time to get going. If he hurried, he could get to grandma’s house in less than twenty minutes.
Lightning flashed in the sky and rain began to fall. A clap of thunder sounded, and David started running with Max rushing ahead. They managed to run for about a minute before David’s foot wedged in a crack in the sidewalk and he fell flat on his face, rolled on the road, and finally came to a halt, battered and soaked to the bone.
Max stopped, then ran back to him. David got up, grabbed Max’s leash again and limped under the canopy of an electrical appliance store. The door was locked, but they were both protected from the rain under the narrow canopy. David was breathing hard. His left elbow hurt. Something warm trickled down his arm. He sent a hesitant hand to his elbow, touched the warm sticky liquid, then glanced at his hand: it was covered with blood.
He cautiously examined his elbow and saw that a layer of skin had peeled, exposing the flesh beneath. The sight made his head spin all over again. He tried to overcome the disgusting sight; he had no time to waste for self-pity. He grabbed the edges of his shirt and pressed them to the elbow to stop the bleeding. Max brought the tip of his nose to David’s elbow and sniffed with curiosity. In a few second, the entire left side of David’s white shirt had turned red.
“No, Max.” David sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.” He looked up and down the street, considering his options. Going back home was out of the question. His eyes happened to fall on the rows of television screens behind the store’s display window, all muted and silently depicting a special news bulletin.
He pressed his face against the cold glass and stared in disbelief: he saw missile batteries on every screen. The title at the bottom of the screen left no room for doubt: “Negotiations with the Russians have failed—U.S. Preparing for a preemptive strike—No word from the prophet.”
David was stunned. He hadn’t logged into the prophet software since last evening and hadn’t even heard the news. It seemed that quite a few things had happened during the night.
The image changed and now showed a panel of experts. David wanted to hear what was being said, but even if the sound was turned on, the pouring rain drumming on the canopy and the constant thunder obscured any other sound. The title changed again: “U.S. Secretary of Defense: ‘All civilians must remain close to their shelters.’”
David took the cell phone from his pocket and tried to log into the prophet software without success. He couldn’t tell if the weather was interfering with reception, or if the fall had damaged the device.
He grabbed his aching elbow and scanned the area; the rain seemed to have grown more intense. “Obviously…” he muttered despairingly. How would he get to grandma’s house now? He decided to wait a moment; maybe the rain would ease off a little.
His phone came to life. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. He slowly brought the device closer to his ear.
“Hello?
“David, can you hear me? Wow, what’s all that noise on your end?”
Despite the uproar caused by the rain, David immediately recognized Rachel’s voice. Of all the people in the world, hers was the last voice he expected to hear. He had already decided to forget all about her, to wipe her from his thoughts completely.
He had managed to do a fairly good job—until now. Why on earth would she be calling him? There were so many things he wanted to tell her, a thousand sentences phrased and rephrased in his head countless times. He had often imagined how he would go to her, what he would say, and feared her reaction. And now was the worst possible time for him to be facing her, shivering from the cold and bleeding, just waiting for a temporary respite in the rain so he could run and…
David himself wasn’t sure what would happen once he reached grandma’s house. It seemed that he didn’t have any choice. For grandma’s sake, he would have to expose his secret to Jackie.
Grandma had often recited to David that old Spiderman quote she loved so much: “With great power comes great responsibility.” And boy, was she right. Maybe it was time to pass on both power and responsibility to someone else’s hands. But to Jackie’s? David shuddered.
If that psychopath gained control of the software—that would be the end of everyone. And what about all those lunatics looking to find the prophet? Not to mention the terrorist organizations. Jackie wouldn’t hesitate to expose David just for the fun of it. David stared at his cell phone, his head spinning with dark thoughts.
Now of all times, when he had to stay focused and cleared, when every decision might prove crucial—now of all times, Rachel had decided to call. He couldn’t possibly cope with her now.
More thunder roared in the sky and Max jumped up nervously. David thought about ending the call, but he couldn’t possibly do that, not to her. He pressed his m
outh against the phone and covered the device with the palm of his hand. “Yes, Rachel. I can hear you.”
His detached, emotionless voice made Rachel hesitate for a moment. “Don’t go to your grandmother’s home. It’s a trap.”
He froze.
“Don’t ask me how I know. We don’t have time. Just listen to me.” There was real fear in her voice.
David opened his mouth, but still didn’t say a word and let her continue.
“Let’s meet, I’ll explain everything. Do you know where the small lake is?”
He knew it well. It was where the huge billboard bearing Moses Morse’s picture was, next to the SOS Pet Rescue Compound.
He coughed and answered in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, I know it.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Just come.” She hung up.
The rain had eased just a little, but that was enough. Max gave David a questioning look. The meeting place Rachel had suggested was on the way to grandma’s apartment anyway.
“Ready Max?” The dog looked at him for a moment, then shook himself and drenched David with filthy rainwater.
“All right, let’s get going.” David wiped his face with his hands, grabbed Max’s leash, and started walking as quickly as he could.
46
The Game Theory
Principal Edward Castner did not feel comfortable with the military presence in his school, to put it mildly.
As someone in charge of an educational establishment, he was able to understand the rationale behind it: fear of a doomsday weapon that, according to experts, had turned the home front into the battlefront—and, of course, the terrorist hostage situation that had ended just two days ago.
There were good reasons for the establishment of a temporary military office in his school, just like in all other schools in the US. But something still bothered him. There had to be another reason for the fact that grim-faced uniformed people were roaming between his classrooms. He discounted the possibility that this was just about his ego and that he objected to the undermining of his status as the school’s highest authority. That wasn’t it.
One could say a lot of things about Edward Castner, but no one could say he was naive. For example, there was that strange decision of having Major Lincoln in charge of instructing the children. It was obvious that the tough military man lacked any training or natural inclination to talk to young students.
What the blazes was he trying to achieve by showing them all those shocking images and terrifying statistics: scare them to death? The purpose of the briefings was to prepare the children to get into the shelter in an efficient and panic-free way. Undoubtedly, the major’s intimidations would bring about the opposite results.
When Edward had said that to the major, the only reply he was awarded with was a blank and impatient stare. And if that wasn’t enough, the major settled in the office Edward himself had coveted: the spacious room that had been renovated and had a large window overlooking the schoolyard.
Edward simply couldn’t keep silent anymore. As the one tasked with ensuring the children’s safety, he had to find out what was going on.
He stood in front of the major’s closed door, straightened his suit, and knocked.
“Yes,” came the curt reply.
He opened the door and three pairs of eyes settled on him. Major Lincoln sat in an executive chair, and two junior officers sat in simple office chairs on the other side of the desk.
Edward wasn’t familiar with the other officers, but he did recognize the chairs that had mysteriously disappeared from the teacher’s lounge, now obviously found.
A large map of the state of California was spread out over the desk. Apparently, he had interrupted an important meeting, because the hushed conversation ceased at once.
“Yes?” The major repeated his question, as if Edward was the one who invaded his office and not the other way around.
Edward gulped and looked straight into the officer’s eyes. “We need to talk.”
For a moment, the major stared at Edward with a pensive expression. Then he regained his composure, rose to his feet, and with a serious expression motioned toward the chairs where the others sat. “Take a seat, please.”
The two junior officers instantly stood up and folded the map. Edward sat and watched them until they left and closed the door. He wasted no time and spat out the words.
“It’s time you tell me what you’re really doing here. We both know this isn’t about the briefings.”
“You’re right,” came the surprising reply. “I expected you’d understand it yourself at some point.” The major seemed relaxed and was incredibly matter-of-fact in his attitude.
“So…” Edward stammered, then snapped out of it. “Do I need to ask or will you tell me everything?”
Lincoln didn’t answer. He sat back in his chair and gave the principal a long look. “I’m trying to decide what to tell you.” He frowned. “Understand, there are strict instructions regarding what I am allowed to tell a civilian without the right security clearance, but—” Edward opened his mouth to speak, but the major raised a hand to stop him and continued. “I did some background checking on you. Quite an impressive record. Thirty years in the education system, ten years in the volunteer fire department. I think we’ll be just fine.”
Edward didn’t know how to react to those words.
“Tell me, Principal Castner, what do you consider to be the most important task currently facing security forces?”
Now it was Edward’s turn to frown. “Dealing with the Russian threat, obviously.”
“Exactly. And if we want to be more specific—preventing a deterioration that would bring on a nuclear war between the two superpowers.” The major seemed serious, concerned even. “Now here’s the situation: Russia has armed thousands of missiles, which are currently directed at us and are ready to launch. This is really happening.” He sighed, rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth behind the desk.
“The problem is that they have blocked all channels of communication with us, and we don’t know when the first strike is going to come.”
“And are we sure they are about to attack?” Edward wasn’t convinced he truly wanted to hear the major’s reply.
“I never said that they will be the first to strike.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “You mean to say that—”
“I never said we would be the first to push the button, either, which is exactly where our problem lies.”
Edward still didn’t understand.
“How familiar are you with game theory?” the officer asked and drew silent, waiting for a reply.
“Well enough.” Edward had once studied that fascinating subject. “I see what you’re getting at. The current situation between us and the Russians echoes a classic game theory riddle.”
The major stopped pacing and looked at him. “Go on.”
“Two gunmen stand facing each other,” Edward stated. “If none of them fires his gun, they both gain because no one gets hurt. But if a duel actually takes place—the gunman who fires first increases his chances of winning, although there is also the risk he would get hurt himself.”
The major nodded. “Based on this logic, what is the recommended course of action in a state of a mutual nuclear threat between two countries?”
“There’s no absolute answer, but one can imagine that the country that strikes first will have the advantage.”
“So, if we consider only our own interests, what is the preferred scenario?” the major asked.
“It’s best that we strike first. But, obviously, the ideal situation is that no one attacks.” Edward paused and thought for a moment.
“But…” the major urged him on.
“But we can’t be sure that the Russians understand it’s better if no one initiates a strike.”
“And why don’t we know that?” asked the major.
“Because they won’t talk to us?” Edward tried. He was growing tired of that guessing game. “Why don’t you get to the point? What does this have to do with my school?”
“I was just getting to that. Answer my question. Why don’t we know whether or not the Russians are about to attack?”
“Because they don’t want to talk and we have no way of knowing, because…” Edward suddenly realized. “Because the prophet won’t tell us?”
“Bingo!” The major raised his sole arm and slammed his fist against the table. “The only man who can help us is keeping his mouth shut!” he angrily hissed. “Now, of all times, he decides to keep his mouth shut and refuses to say whether or not the Russians will strike.”
The officer seemed genuinely upset. He turned to the window and gazed through it at the rain-washed schoolyard. “I won’t deny the fact that the prophet has helped us quite a bit, but he withholds this specific, crucial answer.”
He nervously rubbed the stump of his missing arm. “The department of defense won’t accept this. We have to locate the prophet and force him to expose all the information he has.”
There was something Edward still didn’t understand. “But what does it all have to do with my school?”
The officer, in reply, took out a thin folder from the desk drawer and tossed it in the principal’s direction.
Edward picked up the folder, opened it, and carefully took out a glistening sheet of paper. He spread it on the desk. It was a black and white world map, marked with hundreds of colorful dots. These were scattered across several continents, but most were clustered together in Europe and North America. He noticed that the highest density was in California.
“What you’re holding in your hands is the result of strenuous work that has lasted for nearly four years,” the major declared. “Numerous brilliant minds have located thousands of bits of information, clues, and hints. Each point on the map has been filtered from thousands of intercepted communications. This isn’t like finding a needle in a haystack, more like drafting a map from thousands of such needles.”