by Mary Eicher
The press and a small cadre of critics filed into the assembly meeting room—a large hall richly decorated and rearranged to accommodate the select group of invitees. Artemis sat at the center of a table at the front of the room. She was surrounded by the other presenters including Dr. Fielding, who had been persuaded to attend by a determined governor.
The large red room was packed with experts anxious to construct a believable explanation for what had transpired. Front and center, the press was eager to find the flaw in events that couldn’t possibly be real. In the interlude since the convention’s disastrous end, noted members of the scientific world had ventured the theory that the actual cause of the explosion had been the sound Artemis had played. The idea of the children sensing any danger was dismissed. They were merely reacting to being frightened or hungry or tired of being constrained.
The unofficial leader of what was intended to be an inquisition was a prissy reporter from CNN. Blake Miller had perfectly coiffed hair and a southern drawl he had somehow acquired growing up in Michigan. He loved nothing more than reducing his prey to idiocy, and his favorite prey were politicians. Once the room was ready, he stepped forward to ask the first question.
“I suggest that we start today where things were rather rudely left two days ago. Miss Andronikos, if the Harbinger is actually an evolutionary change as you suggest, there must be a reason why such a change has occurred. Can you enlighten us further?”
Artemis returned the reporter’s icy stare, but it was the minister from Chico who fielded the response.
“God must have a plan for us. He must have decided that we need this new ability.”
Dr. Fielding smirked, his pride still wounded by her earlier rejection. “There is no substantiation of a new sensory ability. That’s pure speculation. We don’t know what the Harbinger is, much less why it exists. I cannot support the idea of an evolutionary change.”
Blake turned to the archbishop seated at the end of the table. “Is God the cause of all this, your eminence?”
The cleric looked perplexed. “God has a hand in everything. Although I can’t see that mankind merits a new grace in this current time. Perhaps we are seeing miracles where there are none.”
All eyes seemed to gravitate back to Artemis. She leaned forward. “You already know my opinion. Evidently humans need this new ability.”
The reporter mocked her. “Come on. You really believe we’ve suddenly developed the ability to know the future?” He turned to the camera recording the proceedings. “I mean, I don’t feel any smarter. And I wouldn’t be here asking questions if my viewers already knew the answers.”
“That’s the problem. We don’t see what’s coming.” A youthful blogger from Menlo Park, who had attended the conference, spoke up. “We forged ahead with technology that gives us incredible power. Maybe this Harbinger thing has been uploaded to save us from ourselves.”
“To save us from you guys, you mean,” Blake scoffed, drawing a laugh from the spectators.
“A lot of us in Silicon Valley are ambivalent about what we are doing,” the blogger continued. “It’s great money. Unbelievable money. But it’s like every new tech app ends up costing us something. Like we lose our freedoms or selves. Having information at our fingertips means we don’t need to learn anything for real. We are becoming less not more. And I, hell, lots of us wonder sometimes whether we are masters of the technology or slaves to it.”
A woman who had led one of the breakout sessions sat forward to add her opinion. “I have been an educator for nearly thirty years. I can tell you that children are behaving differently. They do foresee things. And they tell us about it as naturally as can be. We just tend to dismiss what they say. It is the adults who resist the Harbinger effect.”
“Harbinger effect. Doctor Fielding used that term the other day. I like it,” Blake replied, interrupting a smattering of applause. “So, you all see this Harbinger effect as a positive thing?”
Hemsley himself took that one. “What choice do we have? The Harbinger is real! We might as well understand how to use it. That will be the focus of my administration.”
“The election’s over, Governor. You can stop campaigning,” Blake Miller said with a sarcastic tone. The audience laughed. “I’d like to hear exactly where this amazing new ability came from. Evolution just isn’t a satisfactory answer.”
Artemis waited to see if anyone on the panel wanted a go at that one. No one seemed inclined so she offered an explanation. “It comes from us. All of us. We created the Harbinger with our collective consciousness. We create ourselves every day.” She flashed a whimsical smile. “We examined what we’d created—this violent, greedy world—and well, we changed our minds. We decided to be better.”
The man who had been offended by her that first day stood in the front row and shouted, “Witch! You are a blasphemer!”
Security guards moved forward and removed him from the hall. Hemsley called for order by tapping the microphone in front of him. Artemis looked at the audience and knew the heckler was not alone in his opinion.
“You don’t see the hand of the creator in this?” a man from the Sacramento Bee asked. “Don’t you think it’s obviously absurd to say that we created the Harbinger?”
“Not at all.” Strang rose from his seat in the audience to speak. “It’s impossible to conjure a better explanation. Not to mention unnecessary. Artemis is saying that the universe we told ourselves we understood has changed. It is different from what we believed before. Human understanding of the cosmos has changed many times in the past. Once again our knowledge of the universe has evolved.”
“Who the hell are you?” Blake turned to confront the man who had dared to support his chosen prey.
“I am Doctor Wolfgang Strang. I am an astrophysicist of some reputation, may I add.”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “How do you do, professor. So nice of you to be with us today, but this is not a class on astrology. We are talking about something a little closer to home.”
“Discussion is certainly called for,” Strang said mildly. “But we are discussing something much larger than you have grasped, sir. There has been a change in the universe. The Harbinger is one manifestation of that change. There are others.”
“So, we woke up one morning and found ourselves in a different universe?” the reporter pantomimed his disdain.
“No. And it cannot be truly said that we have awakened either,” Strang asserted, tugging Lincoln-like at the lapels of his coat. “But something within us has. And that change will not be diminished by your sarcasm or the desire to silence the messenger.”
Blake turned back to Artemis. “Ah yes, the messenger. That would be you, Miss Andronikos. You are the messenger of this preposterous idea about a Harbinger.” Strang’s words had stung him and he needed to sting back. “Isn’t it true that you have manufactured this whole hysteria? You and your lover, Miss Lucinda Breem. She was the reporter who wrote the initial article about some mysterious phenomenon. Since starting this charade, you and your lover have gained quite a bit of notoriety, haven’t you?”
Artemis arched an eyebrow. “Evidently.”
“And why have you done this?” Blake circled in for the kill. “Why would an attractive, wealthy lesbian seek to deny God and throw the world into chaos? Because you hate men, don’t you?”
“No. But I am willing to make an exception in your case, Mister Miller,” Artemis responded with a dazzling grin.
Her answer hung in the air a moment, and then the spectators erupted in laughter and applause. Even Hemsley found himself smiling at the exchange.
“The best we can do at this point is to acknowledge that a change has occurred. Thank you, Doctor Strang and Miss Andronikos, for assisting us in the struggle to understand it,” Hemsley said with a wink.
Blake let the other reporters ask questions and stepped out of the limelight to lick his wounds.
Artemis sensed whispers urging her on with what needed to be said. Sh
e moved the microphone close and delivered what she hoped would be her final message.
“Doctor Strang has compelling evidence that will assist us all in understanding the magnitude of what is happening. My personal belief is less scientific. The universe we live in is a thought. It is the creation of a collective consciousness made up of all living things. We are members of that collective. We are part of the universe.” She paused and folded her hands on the table. “No, that’s not precisely true. We are the universe. We create it with our consciousness. The universe is a thought and collectively together we are the ones who think it into existence. We have given ourselves this new ability for a purpose that may be known only to future generations.”
The room fell momentarily silent. Those who could see such things thought they caught a glow about the speaker. A light emanated for a moment and then faded away.
Strang ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Isn’t that what philosophers have been telling us for millennia?” He twirled his hand as he spoke. “This will continue to be debated by all of us for decades, I know. As it should be. But if it is true, and can’t we all sense that it is, truth will not be denied.”
*
“That was interesting,” Lucy said, greeting Artemis and Strang when they returned to the hotel room. She and Angie had stayed at the hotel with her mother. The session had been televised live, and Lucy found it easier to draft her review in the hotel rather than in the midst of the action. And she hadn’t wanted to be a distraction by the urge to defend Artemis every time something nasty was said. She knew when a feeding frenzy was going to take place, and Artemis had definitely chummed the water.
Artemis sank into a chair and put her feet on the small table. “What have I done?” she asked in a fatigue-softened voice.
Strang chuckled. “You’ve caused a disturbance in the force, my darling girl. You keep insisting on telling the truth.”
Claire laughed. “If that’s all, don’t give it a moment’s worry. It will pass. The truth never lasts. We were watching on the TV. Didn’t seem anyone much wanted to know the truth. And that horrible man who said those—those poisonous things.” She patted Artemis on the shoulder. “You handled him well, Temmie. You are going to be a media star if you’re not careful. I have to admit I had to peel Lucy off the ceiling a couple of times though.”
Artemis groaned. Lucy took out her laptop and sat at the desk to update Jake. She was just sending quotes she found newsworthy, omitting her opinion. Jake would rewrite whatever she sent him anyway. Artemis asked her what she was writing about.
“You, Temmie. Mom’s exactly right. You’re hot.”
“You’re awfully cute yourself.” Artemis sighed, putting her hands on her forehead.
“I could use a drink.” Strang picked up Angie and suggested they go find some refreshments.
“Just call room service,” Claire suggested. “I’m not leaving this room for a while. There’s hostiles out there.”
“It’s all right, Grandma. We’re not hot. Only Temmie is.”
Everyone laughed at that, breaking the tension of the past week. Artemis kicked off her heels and decided to change into something casual. The others left on their food mission except for Lucy who stayed to finish her notes. She peppered Artemis with questions about her Harbinger theory, trying to capture the essence.
“I’m not okay with you doing this any longer,” Artemis said, motioning to the laptop. “That reporter might not be the only one who will try to hurt you.”
“I knew you would say that. Must be the Harbinger effect.” Lucy looked up from the screen and teased. “But Jake wants all this information, and he was going to have someone else write the article otherwise. Not someone ethical and sensitive like me.”
“So, you’re saying it’s a Hobson’s choice thing.”
“I love you, Temmie.” Lucy gave her an apologetic grin.
“Don’t put that in your article.”
*
Jamil Uberdorf, no longer considering himself a reverend, took a case of elixir with him out to the pool. The air was cool, and the sky threatened rain, but he didn’t care. It was the third day. He was a doomed man. He set the case at the side of the pool near a lounge chair where he threw his towel. He stripped off his robe and dove into the water. It was cold, but he was drunk and didn’t really feel the chill.
He swam for a while and marveled at how calm he felt. He was surprised there were no ill effects from experiencing the Harbinger. He’d been braced for something painful to happen like being in a car crash or accidentally setting himself on fire in the kitchen. But the weekend had passed entirely pleasantly.
He’d engaged the very special attentions of three prostitutes and spent the rest of the time watching sports. He hadn’t informed his army of Servants he was out of jail. The last people he wanted to see were his Servants, some of whom he suspected were still being held in custody. He’d taken his cell phone apart so no one could reach him, and he’d lived the life he had worked so hard for.
The one exception to his weekend of debauchery was taking time to explain the cult’s finances in a memo to Jerry. The guy had been loyal and would be a good choice to replace him as leader. And Jamil wouldn’t be needing the money. He did, however, request a big funeral. The idea of thousands of his followers crying over his untimely demise pleased him. He’d written his obituary and a speech for Jerry to deliver that praised Uberdorf and told the world the Harbinger had called the spiritual leader to his reward.
He even sent the cash the Andronikos woman paid for his bail to the Riverside Messenger as an anonymous donation to the press. That was where her little girl toy worked, and it seemed the grateful thing to do. Andronikos herself was a wealthy broad who wouldn’t miss the money. She’d probably get it back when he died anyway. He didn’t know. Jamil had never bothered to show up after paying bail for several youthful infractions.
He spread the towel on a lounge chair and made himself comfortable. Drinking his eighth bottle of elixir, he settled on the lounge to wonder how exactly it would happen. Maybe some assassin was going to shoot him though he couldn’t think of one with the balls to do that. Maybe a meteor was going to plunge out of the sky and smash him into the flagstone. Or maybe drinking elixir mixed with rum was fatal—he’d never tried it before. As the seventy-second hour drew near, he lit a cigarette and began to look around suspiciously for the Grim Reaper to appear in his drunken haze.
A commotion from around the side of his home interrupted his pondering. He went to check out the source of the noise. A dog often seen roaming loose in the neighborhood was in a standoff with a large, aggressive raccoon. The raccoon was hissing from atop a shed in a corner of the yard, and the dog was leaping against the side of the shed in futile attempts to reach the intruder. Uberdorf shouted at the animals and the dog backed off and then disappeared with a jump through a row of bushes. The raccoon held its ground atop the shed, hissing menacingly at the approaching man waving his arms.
Uberdorf checked the shed door. It was locked, but he saw a hole below the door big enough for an inquisitive animal to burrow through. He bit down on the butt of his cigarette and patted where his pants pockets should be. Only there weren’t any. He was naked from his swim. Looking around, he spied some gardening tools leaning against the fence. He grabbed a shovel and forced the shed door open.
The interior of the shed was a mess of ripped-up boxes, their contents strewn amid piles of trash. The raccoon had apparently made a nest in the residue of the cult’s escalation supplies.
“I ought to let you blow yourself up,” he called to the raccoon who was peering upside down at him from above the door.
Uberdorf tossed the half-smoked cigarette aside and shook his fist at the animal, which bared its teeth in defiance. All thought of the Harbinger was gone as anger flooded through him. Moments later, he remembered for a fleeting moment just as the shed exploded, taking the surprised man and an angry raccoon on the cult’s final escalation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sound of church bells broke the quiet of a Sunday morning a week later, loud and bold and reassuring. It was the sound of normalcy announcing its return. Lucy opened the Riverside Messenger and saw her article on the front page with a full color picture of Artemis.
“She’s going to hate this!” she said with a self-satisfied smile. “I, however, love it.”
The smell of bacon wafted in from the kitchen, and Angie came to get her for breakfast.
“I’m going to like the new place,” she said, taking her mother’s hand.
“What new place?” Lucy asked looking at her mother.
“I have no idea.” Claire shrugged as she brought the serving tray to the table. “But it’s good to hear we’ll like it.” She slid scrambled eggs onto Angie’s plate. “Have you heard from Temmie?”
“She’s due back next week right after Christmas. She thinks it will be safe by then.” Lucy took a bite of bacon. “Little does she know she’s still…”
“Hot!” Angie said.
Both women smiled.
“Yes, she’s still hot. A few weeks in Maui won’t have changed that.”
“Well, I think it wise of her to have accompanied Wolfgang home,” Claire ventured. “Temmie isn’t good with publicity. She needs her space.”
Lucy leaned back and stretched. She showed the newspaper to her mother, who approved of the photo Lucy had chosen and liked the article.
“You make her sound so normal,” her mother said. “We know better. She’s a genius and a hero IMHO.”
Lucy sighed. “She’s perfect. But she wouldn’t let me write that. She barely allows me to say much about her at all. I’ve written three articles about her, and I doubt anyone would recognize her on the street.”