Chapter 25 - Seventh inning stretch
Phillip let the team from the building and headed toward the sun. They crossed the parking lot, walked leisurely to the first intersection, and turned north. They walked past the satellite dishes that delivered much of the information they had been analyzing. In the sun they walked away from the technology of the twenty first century into what remained of farm fields reminiscent of the fort’s origin during the early twentieth century, an area called the farm. They walked with respectful quiet past the farm pond with a mother goose leading her goslings back to the nest after a morning’s feed. They walked past the remaining barns and farm houses that shared the fort property.
The group walked and talked only about what was happening right there this minute as if afraid to let in the complications of the world out there. This was a therapeutic respite that no one prescribed but everyone appreciated. Phillip and Nan talked civilly to each other smiling, forgiving without apologizing. Barriers between them, tall and strong, like the Berlin wall, crumbled and fell.
Nan's mom was uncharacteristically mute watching her daughter with love in her eyes and watching Phillip with curiosity. She showed a child's enthusiasm for everything she saw along the way but perhaps that was to disguise the fact that she too noticed that something was happening between her daughter and this man.
The group's strolling brought them to an insincere looking chain linked fence that surrounded the post real estate. It looked adequate to keep out the neighbor’s dog but not much else. It wasn’t so much to protect the fort as to protect the neighborhood. At one time, some nasty biology was going in here.
At the moment, the fence was effectively keeping out a pack of feral dogs abandoned by their owners who had to choose between feeding their pets or feeding their children. The dogs danced back and forth on the outside of the fence snarling and barking accusations at the humans on the inside of the fence blaming them for the state of the world and for their reduced quality of life. Having made their statement and noticing something more interesting, they raced off.
Inadequate as it looked, this fence spoke one message to everyone who regarded it now with more interest than it appeared to deserve.
Only Nan commented, quoting Macbeth. 'They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, but bear-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none.'
Phillip didn’t know much Shakespeare but recognized the quote and smiled to think Nan knew Shakespeare. He lost the smile when he realized how closely that quote described himself.
Phillip led not just as organizational head, nor the head of the pack of walkers, but also as the one who was recovering his determination ahead of others. They turned west and walked the perimeter road. He walked faster. The others picked up the pace to match his. Even Nan’s mother was moving like a woman many years her junior. Some walked quietly now facing inside themselves what needed facing. Some talked one on one because that is how they preferred to resolve things. Phillip and Nan were one of those couples. One could sense that if they were alone at this point they would be in each other’s arms. They did not seem to be concerning themselves with the plight of the project or of the world but with the potential for a personal tomorrow.
The group arrived back at their building and reentered to face whatever waited to be faced. As their eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the cantina that they had left an hour ago Phillip spoke with candor. “I must admit I'm having trouble making myself want to eradicate this epidemic. It's doing so much good. And face it; lots of good people in their secret heart wanted to see justice take many of whose who were killed. There were some pretty bad types there. There is the feeling out there, of ‘glad it was them and not me’.
“Trouble is we don’t know what the criterion is for bad. Is the dust going to come and snuff me in my sleep because my carbon footprint is too big?
“There have been two hundred million people dead a week and we are responsible. We didn’t do it intentionally but …
“Smitty tells me the killing has stopped. Hit your terminals and find out what is going on. It’s supposed to be sentient now. Find out how to talk to it. Find out if it knows the meaning of surrender.”
“You want it to surrender, sir?” said a tenor voice from the group.
“No, Grasshopper, I … want to surrender.”
Phillip, Nan, and Nan’s mom left the room. Others started to drift off to their respective work places.
“Grasshopper? Is he going nuts?”
“No, He’s in love.” Offered his companion.
“Oh God, Even worse. How can you tell?”
“Magnetism. Have you watched those two?" waving in the direction of the recently disappeared Phillip and Nan? "Their bodies point at each other whenever they are in the same room like a compass to a magnet.”
When Phillip and Nan (and her mother) got back to Phillip’s office every light on Nan's desk phone was flashing even the priority line from the white house.
"Good grief" said Phillip not using his more colorful expletives. "Why didn't they call my cell? He took out his cell and looked at it accusingly to find its battery dead. Well yea, he hadn't thought to charge it in four days. He’d been using it but hadn't been near his bed where the charger was for four nights.
"I'll take the red one in there." he said, pointing to the office door through which Nan had barred him from following so long ago. He looked at Nan. So many things he’d rather be doing just now.
He glanced at Mom playing with the badge that hung from her neck announcing in large print VISITOR.
"Nan,"
"Yes, Phillip" said Nan neutralizing her smile to match his tone.
"When you have cleared the calls can you take your mother down to see Doctor Ruth? I'm sure she will want to meet Mom. Then you may as well take her to your place.”
Phillip seated himself at the desk of the director of the global nano defense initiative and for the first time felt that that title applied to him. Nan signaled that the call with the White House had been completed. No fancy video conferencing this time, yet Phillip stood as he picked up the phone. “Yes, we are all still here. We have much to report. It’s sort of one of those good-news bad-news situations."
When Phillip had finished, the president was very unhappy. Just two days ago, the message from the White House had been we had been invaded by aliens, now that story was discovered to have been a lie. The president was neither a coward nor deceitful. Well, except where politics was concerned. Now there would have to be another address to the nation. This time the message was even worse. Not only had millions of people been killed – including many of the president’s detractors, which looked very very bad, but the government had been duped into helping it happen. This administration was doomed but this wasn't the problem needing to be address first. How do you tell the nation they are now all slaves to a manufactured intelligence and nothing is the same as before?
There was only one thing to do. Phillip would be the scapegoat. He was ordered to Washington. A car was sent to take him the mile to the helipad. Phillip felt like Jesus being stripped of his robe and preparing to be scourged. He would have to carry his own cross to the hill.
It wasn’t time for his pills yet. This time his depression was justified. He had thought he was saving everyone and now he was being set up to be hated by everyone. He had intended to save the world. Look what happened. In his case, he deserved what he was to get.