CHAPTER 32

“When Reason Packs Its Bags”

     

September 7th, 2040: The Ruby Star Restaurant, New York

 

Dressed in casual formal wear, both Aaron and Weiss were having a grand night. They had already gone through three bottles of wine and were working on a fourth. Both were rather…buzzed.  

“--Next thing I remember, I’m on the ground with no idea how I got there. It was only when I was escorted out of the building through a service tunnel that I was told a terrorist in a semi-truck tried to ram through the security bollards. Instead, he flipped his cab over it and detonated his trailer a good fifty feet away.” Retelling a story from his time working in Brussels Aaron took another sip of his red wine. Weiss simply stared in complete disbelief. 

“The way you entered my father's palace, I suspected you took security rather seriously. And from what you Americans had to endure on Earth, it is all starting to make sense now.” Weiss smiled while sipping from her wine glass. “Still, to think that you were once a simple puppet of this ‘British Empire’.”

“Hmm, colony, but I can see the confusion. With the help of the Spanish and French empires--who rarely ever passed up an opportunity to stick it to Great Britain, their parliament forced King George III to sign a peace treaty with us. And over two-hundred and fifty years later, we’re still standing.” Motioning his arms out wide, Aaron gave a sly smirk. 

“Wait a moment. At some point in your history, you fought yourself, no?” Setting her wine glass down, she leaned in with curious eyes. 

“Right, I forgot I gave you some history textbooks. Yeah, we did. Some say it was for ‘state rights’, others because the federal government was 'over-reaching'. But the actual reason was because the southern states that made up The Confederacy, wanted to preserve the practice of slavery. Mostly for the cotton plantations--or at least I think it was. I’m not that well-practiced in history so take anything I say with a grain of salt so-to-speak.”

“I thought The United States was about being a… shining city on top of the hill, as your president put it?” To that, Aaron took another swig of wine and shook his head.

“Not that black and white. America was ‘free’ compared to most of the world. A lot of what you can do as an American wouldn't be something you could do anywhere else.”

“I see…” Not wanting to spend another moment on this rather gloomy topic, Weiss looked around the restaurant. She glanced at many Americans dressed in much fancier and more luxurious clothing than themselves. “On a different subject. You explained that you Americans do not have nobility like us, but rather something called ‘the one percent’?”

“Correct. The one percent is in reference to the roughly one-and-a-half million Americans who make over half a million dollars a year. These people are the ones who control the massive companies I’ve told you about.”

“Like Mobile Borders and Clearwater?” 

“Exactly. Though as of right now, none of them hold much political sway in Congress. Except for United Security who has been calling in chits left and right after they were placed in hot water over some alleged actions in the continent of Africa. In fact, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask--” 

Cut off mid-sentence by his phone vibrating in his pants pocket Aaron pulled it out to see the caller ID was ‘Papa Tony's Pizza’.

“I’m so sorry, but I need to take this. Please excuse me.” Standing up, Aaron walked over to the balcony door and out onto it. Answering the call he waited a moment before responding.

“Black Falcon is still flying.” Aaron said.

“Affirmative. New acts have been added to the play via the director's own order.” A woman's voice answered. 

“What new parts do I need to play? I’ve already got plenty on my plate, perhaps Bastiel can take this one.” 

“Negative, not in his area. New roles are… Exterminator, and personal adviser to young Snow. Ten days, you will be contacted before your departure for Berlin. Project SNOW-WHITE has been approved.” With that, the call automatically ended. With slightly widened eyes, Aaron looked through the massive glass panels at Weiss, who was more focused on trying to read the label on the wine bottle. “The things I do for this country, I swear.” Aaron sighed, before walking back into the restaurant.

“My apologies.” He sat back down, and Weiss tilted her head. 

“What was that about?” 

“My personal office experienced a power outage and lost some information. Nothing important but it’s required that I’m told of such an event. Back to what we were originally discussing, I was hoping we could come to an agreement that would allow United Security, or International Security Alliance to operate inside your borders? Now the deal to hand off Händluf to us, and allow American corporations into your kingdom is coming to a close, I’ve been personally contacted by many of these corporations over the topic of security. And while I do not doubt you have the ability, their concerns would be quickly silenced if I was able to tell them that fellow Americans would be the ones protecting them.” 

“And why are you telling me this? I have to sway the court over this matter. You should be talking to my father.” 

“That is where we have a… conflict of interest. The United States Government wants to place American soldiers inside your kingdom. King Hienrich doesn't want us to have a larger presence than we have at this moment. Until I can guarantee American soldiers or contractors will be the ones guarding American corporations I’m afraid no one will be interested in investing in your kingdom.” 

“And you want me to try and convince my father that it is in his interest to go along with this? What makes you think he will go along with such a one-sided deal? With the complete conquest of The Plusieurs Kingdom to American rule. You are treating them as if they were a puppet.” 

“Ok. let’s try a different approach.” Aaron sighed before continuing. “Look, I’ll be blunt here. The President has given me new instructions on how to conduct foreign relations. Our economy is still continuing to struggle and I am being as courteous with our trade proposals as I can. If this deal falls through for any reason I do not know what President Dresden's reaction will be.” 

Hearing Aaron’s tone change loud and clear. Wiess leaned back in her seat. 

“I do not take kindly to threats aimed at my kingdom, sir Aaron.” 

“This isn’t a threat, but a promise of action. If this deal falls through, I cannot guarantee a favorable outcome for both sides. Talk with your father, and at the least express the level of awe and wonder you have shown me the past few weeks. A conflict with The Ruppriecht Kingdom is the last thing this administration wants. But when push comes to shove, you will see why The United States was considered a world power to be taken seriously.”

 

Elsewhere, at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center - Maryland

 

“Don’t go into the light”. A saying that meant little to Director Stevens before his adventure into New South America was cut short on account of him nearly dying. Through blurry vision, he immediately processed that he was in a medical room, just not entirely sure where. Not until the sound of a sliding door opening did he hear any sign of life other than his own monitoring equipment. Standing in the doorway, a woman dressed in a hazmat suit walked to his bedside.

“Good afternoon, Director Stevens. I’m Doctor Lowe, you’re at Walter Reed Medical. What’s the last thing you remember?” She asked, before shining a light in his eyes.

“I remember, being on the floor of the manor, then… and then…” He struggled to think further beyond waking up surrounded by his own team, then processed what the doctor had said. “Wait, I’m in Maryland? How long was I out?” 

“Three days. In that time, your heart stopped twice, and you have acute radiation poisoning. On your ride over to us, you had a recorded dose of 1000 rems… most people exposed to such numbers die within sixty days.”

“Well, that’s comforting to hear…” Moving his blurry vision to the white ceiling, feeling more tired than he ever had, Stevens slowly closed his eyes--only for Doctor Lowe to rub her knuckles on his sternum. The sharp irritation hardly dragged him back into the real world.

“I’m sorry Director Stevens, but I need you awake for some tests.”

“Ha, now I know what it feels like to the President--wait. Did I ever make that phone call?” Moving his eyes to meet Doctor Lowe’s. She shook her head.

“I’m not required to know such information. All I was told is you touched an unknown device, and collapsed. On scene you had once again lost consciousness, and had to be resuscitated.” 

“So in other words I definitely didn’t make that call.” With what pitiful strength he could muster Stevens raised his right hand and pointed at Doctor Lowe. “Go and get me a phone--I don’t care if it’s someone's smartphone. If anyone gives you attitude, tell them the dog house is open.” Taking a moment to process what he had ordered, Doctor Lowe stood up and walked out of the room; returning after less than a minute had passed on the wall clock. She held up a black smartphone and smiled.

“I don’t know what that threat means but it sure made your guards rather cooperative. Do you have the ability to type and hold this phone?” With a stifled laugh, Director Stevens shook his head before rattling off a number, then had Doctor Lowe hold the phone to his right ear.

“Thanks for calling Papa Tony’s Pizza, how may I be of service?” A woman's voice answered, with the distinctive noise of a kitchen working in the background.

“I would like to speak to Rees.” 

“Of course, who should I say is requesting his services?”

“Western Cliff Hotel.” Immediately the call went completely silent. Waiting a few moments Stevens then heard the line become active once more as someone fumbled around with their phone.

“This better be worth waking me up.” An all too familiar voice said

“It’s Stevens if that helps, Mister President.”

“Oh you're awake! I was given the run-down on what happened, though I suspect it’s definitely not the whole story.” With that, Stevens turned to Doctor Lowe. 

“Leave it on speaker and please leave the room for thirty minutes.” As instructed, Lowe placed the phone on the bedside table and stepped through the sliding door. Once sure it was closed, Stevens took in a deep and painful breath. “John. There is something far bigger than anything we could have even begun to think of.”

“... Are you saying that the “God Theory” was correct?”

“It’s not just one. This world is controlled by a group of them--and I met one, a real one. One that goes by the name Gamult. He named others too; Selvsker and Yenmek.”

“So that makes what? Four confirmed beings with god-like powers? I knew we should have taken the information we got from Christina’s coronation seriously.” 

“That’s not even close to the whole story. Gamult made reference to “The Board” and players abiding by the rules set when a game is in session.” 

“This world is nothing but a game of chess to them. That, or a massive game of Catan. Still doesn't answer why we are here now. What else do you remember?”

“A… high-pitched humming sound filled the air a few times, I think. Gamult didn’t seem too pleased to hear it. There was… something else he said at the end…but… but…” Losing focus, Stevens could feel his head getting heavier, and harder to keep upright; along with a sharp pain starting in his chest.

“Stevens? Are you still with me?”

“John. The First Realm--Earth. The gods want us dead. We did…something to anger them. I don’t… I… don--” Slowly shutting his eyes, the medical monitoring equipment began to blare every alarm, and seconds later Doctor Lowe, along with a team of others, stormed in.

“He’s crashing! Doctor Rao start chest compressions!” 

Through the still-live call. Dresden listened in abject horror as he heard Stevens--a friend, dying. Still sitting on the edge of his bed, he moved his phone from his ear to his lap, staring down at the total call time continuing to increase. A slow trickle of tears began to fall onto the screen. Time continued on and the world faded away from Dresden. The grief he was feeling transformed into anger. Anger at the world, at these supposed gods and their complete disregard for them.

 

 

“You want a war? I’ll give you a fucking war to remember…”