The Lawless One and the End of Time

by Lonnie Pacelli

The butler approached Sal and Zola, “Can I get you a drink?”

  “What are you drinking, Caleb?” Sal asked.

  “Campari Spritz.”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “Acqua Panna please,” Zola said.

  “Caleb, when was the last time we saw each other?” Sal asked.

  “Gosh it’s been at least five years. You’ve really done well.”

  “And you, too,” Sal said. Caleb and Sal were never close growing up, with Sal seeing himself at a higher social and intellectual level than the son of a shipyard worker and Caleb not liking that Sal looked down his nose at him. Through the years they closely watched each other as they grew their businesses into two of the most influential entities in history. Their resentment had changed to mutual respect.

  “Hey, guys!” Paul walked into the parlor, dressed in a simple black tuxedo, white shirt, and black tie.

  “Chairperson.” Caleb and Angelique went over to shake Paul’s hand.

  “Please, it’s Paul, or Cuz, for you.” Caleb gave a smile.

  “This is Angelique.”

  “It’s an honor, Chairperson,” Angelique said, shaking his hand.

  “Glad you could join us.” He turned to Caleb. “How you doing?”

  “All good, HoloMate’s humming along. You’re one of our best celebrities.”

  “Just doing a job,” Paul said. He then turned to Sal and Zola.

  “Senator, thank you for coming. Zola, you are looking particularly beautiful this evening.”

  “Thank you, Chairperson,” Zola said.

  “Please, for the rest of the evening, it’s Paul. I’m so tired of hearing ‘Chairperson’ all day!”

  Sal seethed at Paul’s flip remark. He was supposed to be the chairperson.

  The doorbell rang, and the butler answered the door. “Hello, I’m Bert Winn this is my wife Laura Winn. Sorry we’re late.” The Winns received Paul’s invitation to the chairperson’s palace, deciding to come to Rome from Naples a day early to do some sightseeing. They got caught in some unexpected traffic while traveling from their hotel to the palace and arrived 30 minutes late, which bothered Bert and Laura. They hated being late for anything.

  “Not a problem, Mr. Winn, Ma’am,” the butler said. As they walked down the hallway to the parlor, images from the tapestries appeared to leap out at Bert. On one tapestry he noticed a scrolling branch which looked like an angry hissing snake. He imagined the angry hissing snake crawling around the tapestry devouring the other scrolls. The snake leapt from tapestry to tapestry continuing its destruction, seemingly following Bert and Laura as they walked. Laura looked at Bert, sensing something in the tapestries had triggered his imagination.

  “What do you see?” Laura asked.

  “An angry snake eating the tapestries.”

  “Show me on the way out.” Laura and Bert grew to appreciate each other’s vivid imaginations and openly shared them with each other. As they approached the end of the hallway, Bert noticed Paul’s portrait to his right before turning left into the parlor. Paul was first to greet them.

  “Bert, my friend!” Paul shook Bert’s hand. “And Laura, you look beautiful as always.” Laura indeed looked beautiful. She wore a slightly loose-fitting teal cotton dress which both flattered her and was sensory-friendly. She had gone to a beauty salon earlier in the day to have her hair and make-up done, then to a nail salon for a manicure and pedicure. That was a first for her to pamper herself, and she kind of liked it.

  “Thank you,” Laura said.

  Bert and Laura walked over to the others.

  “Bert, how are you?” Sal said, giving him a fist bump. Sal remembered the first time they met how Bert was uncomfortable with being touched. “This is my girlfriend, Zola.”

  “Hello, Sal, hello, Zola.” Bert continued. “This is my wife, Laura. We’ve been married 18 years and we have a son JT who’s 12.”

  “Hello, Laura,” Zola said. “Your hair is beautiful.”

  “Thank you, I went to the hair salon today. I love it too.”

  Caleb extended his hand, “Hey, Bert, hey, Laura.” Caleb knew Bert and Laura well; their HoloBlog, Growing Up Autistic with the Winns was HoloMate’s most popular HoloBlog with over a hundred million subscribers. Bert and Laura were making Caleb a lot of money, so he wanted to treat his stars right.

  “This is Angelique.” Bert was visibly embarrassed by Angelique’s skimpy dress, looking at her once then casting his gaze on her face to avoid scanning Angelique’s near-naked body.

  “Hello, Angelique. This is my wife, Laura.” Laura was shocked at her dress and couldn’t help herself.

  “Hi Angelique, aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  Sal, Paul and Zola snickered at her comment, after all, she just asked what they all were thinking.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Angelique said. Caleb looked to change the topic.

  “Growing Up Autistic is doing great!” Caleb said, taking the focus off Angelique’s outfit. “You’re the number one HoloBlog. Great job, you two!” Bert and Laura’s HoloBlog had been a huge success since debuting in 2050. They had helped millions across all ten ethnarchies better understand autism and help those on the spectrum live life to their fullest.

  “Thank you, Caleb,” Bert said. “We hope we’re helping others affected by autism.”

  “Laura, tell me about your HoloBlog,” Zola said as she moved next to Laura.

  “It’s about me, Bert and JT just living our lives,” Laura said. Angelique wanted to be part of the conversation, joining the two.

  “So, you have autism?” Angelique asked.

  “Yes, all three of us do.”

  “But you’re married.” Angelique had never been around someone with autism, her only exposure to autism was through movies. “Autistics can marry?”

  “Yes, we’ve been married 18 years.”

  “And you have a child?”

  “JT, he’s 12.”

  “Did you adopt?”

  “No.”

  “Autistic people can have sex?”

  Laura looked over at Bert, uncomfortable with Angelique’s questions. Zola, who had a sister with autism, saw Laura getting agitated and stepped in.

  “Laura, I love your dress.” Zola said, trying to change the topic.

  “Thank you, I bought it here in Rome.”

  “I heard autistics can’t wear certain types of clothes,” Angelique started in again. Zola rolled her eyes at Angelique’s obliviousness.

  “Some fabrics can be irritating.”

  “Do you prefer to not wear clothes?”

  “Sometimes.” Laura continued. “You seem to not like wearing clothes, are you autistic?” Laura asked Angelique as she looked at her barely-there dress. Zola let out a laugh then tried to cover her mouth in vain.

  “Do I look autistic?” Angelique was agitated by Laura’s question, not because of her dress, but because she would dare be compared to someone with autism. Paul had been watching the back and forth and saw that Laura was getting uncomfortable with Angelique’s questions. He decided to rescue Laura.

  “Laura, can you come and talk with Bert and me about the blog?” Paul asked.

  “Gladly.” Laura left her conversation with Zola and Angelique to join Paul and Bert. Angelique looked at Zola as if to get affirmation that Laura insulted Angelique. Zola saw the opportunity to exit the discussion and went with Paul to talk more with Bert and Laura, as she had become interested in learning more from them. Angelique, now standing by herself, took a sip of her drink and started wandering around the parlor, taking in the ornate accessories and beautiful artwork on the walls.

  “Dinner is ready,” the butler motioned toward an adjoining dining room. The room had the same marble floors with a rectangular cherry dining room table and eight matching chairs. Two large windows were at either end of the far wall with royal blue floor-to-ceiling curtains framing the windows. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the trayed ceiling. On the table were seven formal
place settings with gold flatware, gold-rimmed white plates, and already-filled crystal water and wine glasses. Each guest found the name on their place card and sat. The butler then retrieved plates of arugula salad from the kitchen and began serving each guest.

  Paul took a sip from his glass of white wine. “Thank you all for coming,” Paul started. “Our days at Academy were a special time for me, one where my three best friends played a significant role in my becoming the man I am today.” Paul didn’t consider Sal a best friend but wanted to include him to try to smooth things over after the chairperson vote. Paul continued. “Bert, you opened my eyes to the world of someone with autism and helped me to understand the importance of inclusiveness. Caleb, you inspired me with your HoloMate vision and how you turned your passion into a successful enterprise. Sal, your undeterred fixation with finding a cure for cancer and making it available to millions changed the world. I wanted to invite you here to simply say thank you, and to Laura, Zola and Angelique, thank you for being the roses to our thorns.”

  Nods and thank-yous from Paul’s guests.

  The butler moved from guest to guest, serving salads. Zola looked across the table at Bert and Laura.

  “What’s next for your HoloBlog?” Zola asked. This wasn’t a polite question for her, she was genuinely interested.

  “We’re going to talk about DarkRooms and their dangers.”

  That got Caleb’s attention. They want to attack his cash cow.

  “What does that have to do with autism?” Caleb asked.

  “It’s not about autism, it’s about decency.” Laura added, looking over at Angelique. Angelique gave Laura a snide glance.

  “Your HoloBlog is supposed to be about autism; that’s what people care about.” Caleb said.

  “Maybe, but we feel very strongly about DarkRooms and want to speak out against them,” Bert said.

  “You need to stick to autism.” Caleb wanted to exert some force to get them to comply.

  “There’s nothing in our agreement that says we are limited in our topics. Paul reviewed our contract when we first signed it and said we could talk about anything we wanted.” Bert said.

  Caleb looked over at his cousin, feeling betrayed.

  “He’s right,” Paul said. Caleb knew there was nothing he could legally do about it, so he tried another angle.

  “Your followers won’t want to hear about DarkRooms, you’ll lose your audience and your coaching revenue.” Caleb said as he took his first bite of salad.

  “Maybe,” Laura said. Bert and Laura had been talking about this for months. They had saved up enough hera so they weren’t reliant on future HoloBlog or coaching revenue. They could completely shutter the business and still live comfortably for the rest of their lives on what they had saved. “We’re willing to take the risk,” Laura added.

  Paul decided to cut the escalating tension. “Zola, what do you do?”

  “I work at a Christian homeless shelter.”

  “Really! I volunteered at a homeless shelter when I was in college,” Paul said. Sal was not happy that Paul and Zola had found a common interest. He imagined Paul beating him in a competition yet again, this time for the first woman other than his mother that he had an emotional connection with. “What do you as Christians do at the shelter?”

  “We like to say that we provide both physical and spiritual nourishment.”

  Paul was expert at faking interest in topics. He thought the spiritual nourishment comment was garbage, but his outward conversation conveyed that there was nothing more fascinating than what she was saying.

  “That’s so interesting!” Paul said.

  “Perhaps the chairperson would like to visit the shelter sometime; you would be an inspiration to so many!”

  “I’d love that,” Paul had no intention of visiting a Christian homeless shelter, it would be easy to claim he was too busy to do if the topic ever came up again.

  The butler brought the main course, a cloud of tension hung over the rest of the meal, despite the benign conversation. Bert and Laura were still staunchly against DarkRooms and were bent on speaking out against them. Caleb didn’t want his HoloBlog stars speaking out against his DarkRooms moneymaker. Zola and Paul continued making connections on topics, fueling Sal’s jealousy of Paul. Paul knew he was driving Sal crazy by connecting with Zola. Paul had no interest in Zola, he only did it to get under Sal’s skin. The evening’s banter was all fun and games compared to the two greatest threats keeping Paul awake at night: the famine crisis and project Zeus.

  Two Kilometers Away

  2066

  A liza Breiner, the Jerusalem-based HoloMate reporter, had been at Jerusalem Health for the last hour, trying to find out whatever she could about the shooting, the status of the victims, and whether the shooter was also at the hospital. Caleb had just emerged from getting his left forearm stitched from a bullet that grazed his arm. Other than being shaken by the experience, he was fine.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Todd?” Aliza asked.

  “Ready.”

  Aliza and Caleb tuned into LFTP-939, their HoloSpec lenses changing from clear to frosted. The producer spoke into Aliza’s earpiece, “We’re on in ten.” Aliza pulled out her mirror, smiled, rubbed lipstick from her teeth, and handed the mirror to Caleb. He did a quick check and handed it back to Aliza.

  “Three, two, one.”

  “This is Aliza Breiner from HoloMate News at Jerusalem Health. I have with me Caleb Todd, founder of HoloMate and one of the victims. Thank you for joining, Mr. Todd.”

  “Thank You, Aliza.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “The chairperson, senator, and I were walking from our car into the embassy. I saw the chairperson and senator go down on the steps, then felt something like hot metal on my forearm. I looked down and saw my arm sliced open. I then looked at the chairperson and senator, both on the steps, hemorrhaging from their heads. There was no sound. I heard the shooter was far away.”

  “That’s right,” Aliza confirmed. “We learned the shooter was two kilometers away.”

  “That makes sense. Didn’t hear shots.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “OK, have you heard any more about Sal and Paul?”

  “Just one second.” Aliza heard her producer’s voice in her earpiece. “I’m getting a report on the chairperson and senator. Both the chairperson and senator have been admitted into surgery, the chairperson for a bullet wound above the right ear. Hold on, we’re getting more on the senator.” Aliza paused, holding her hand to her earpiece, trying to hear her producer. Aliza continued, “The senator has also been admitted to surgery, word we’re getting is the senator’s jaw is severely damaged. Do we know any more Ira?” Aliza asked her producer for more information. She continued, “That’s all we’ve got right now. Mr. Todd are you alright?”

  Aliza turned back to Caleb to see him sitting on a chair nearby, his head in his hands. “My God, Paul, I’m so sorry.” Caleb switched off his HoloSpecs, the lenses turning from frosted to clear. As Aliza walked over to Caleb to see how he was doing, two orderlies wheeling a man covered in a sheet from one of the trauma rooms passed by, the disgusting smell of burnt flesh stung her nose. She overheard one talking, “GSW to the head and car fire.”

  Blackmail

  2061

  C aleb looked at the name on his phone before he answered. “Hello, Mr. Chairperson.”

  “Hey, Cuz.”

  Caleb was surprised to get an out-of-the-blue call from Paul. Ever since Paul was elected chairperson a year ago, phone calls were planned in advance, with Paul’s assistant arranging the call time and duration. “What’s up?”

  “I need you to come to my office, I need your help.”

  “Certainly, when?”

  “Can you come by this afternoon at three?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s your clearance level?”

  “Secret.” Because of HoloMate’s prevalence across the world, Caleb had
collaborated with the Europe Ethnarchy on surveillance operations and was granted secret clearance. The next level of clearance was top-secret, which was reserved for need-to-know on the most serious of ethnarchy security issues.

  “You’ll need top-secret clearance, I’ll fast track it through. See you at three.”

  Caleb hung up. This didn’t sound like a routine surveillance operation, in fact it was anything but.

  Caleb got to Paul’s office at the Europe Ethnarchy government building where the Italian Ministero della Difesa in Rome once stood. Caleb passed through tight security, including a full body scan for contraband, iris recognition to confirm identity, and checking of all electronic devices before visiting the chairperson.

  “Your phone, sir.” Caleb gave his phone to the armed security guard.

  “And your HoloSpecs, sir.” Caleb removed his glasses and gave them to the guard, who then handed Caleb a claim ticket for his personal effects. “OK to proceed,” the security guard called to a second armed guard who escorted Caleb to Paul’s office. He was greeted by Paul’s assistant.

  “Hello, Mr. Todd, the chairperson will be with you in four minutes. Please take a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Caleb sat across from the assistant in one of two red low-back chairs with a small table between. Behind the chairs on the wall was a large portrait of Paul. “Odd,” Caleb thought to himself. Ever since they were kids, Caleb knew Paul as one of the humblest people. He remembered back to the palace, seeing Paul’s portrait in the hallway. “Maybe this is just protocol,” Caleb reasoned, justifying why his selfless cousin would be displaying portraits of himself.

  The door to Paul’s office opened. “Caleb! come in!” Paul gave Caleb a kiss on each cheek, then led him into his office. Two walls of the office were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Rome, with Paul’s deep walnut desk near the windows in the corner. An oval walnut conference table with ten leather chairs was to Caleb’s left as he entered the office and a small kitchen with a doorway that led to a private toilet to his right. The walls were painted deep purple with framed pictures of Paul with Pius XIV, chairpersons from other ethnarchies, Paul’s degrees from LSE and Harvard, and Paul with notable celebrities and sports figures. On the wall right next to the door hung a framed shadow box with the dented folding stool and a picture of Paul with his parents and siblings inside.