« Reply #1 on: April 05, 2008, 01:17:04 am »
Chapter One:
Bhutto sat in the darkness. Waiting had never been his forte, as a matter of fact; he was considered a very brash man. However, that leads many to under estimate him, as he was also very cunning. If he was right, all his work would culminate in the project.
A slow sip of Cognac later, the vid phone rings.
“Mr. Bhutto, the word is go.”
That’s all it took. The weapon he had designed to destroy the planet would be used instead to save it. The great thing about faster then light particles is that they had many properties. While his research had originated, with Ionizing the atmosphere, essentially setting the world on fire, It would in turn be used to create a man made layer to the outer atmosphere. Essentially saving the damned from the solar radiation from the single star system that was destroying the planet.
The next call was from his Press agent, Max.
‘Boxie, we just got the word. You know the world really wants to know more about the man who is saving the planet. ‘
‘Not now Max,’ Bhutto didn’t want to share his regrets, his hatred for his own kind, let alone why he would save them.
‘Boxie, you can’t keep shutting people out, it’s just not healthy.’ There where two people who called Bhutto Boxie, one was Max, as close a friend as he could ever have, the other was his sister.
Denza, had been the one thing that kept his fragile grasp of reality in check, she was his conscience for many years, until God decided, not to take her life, but leave her as a vegetable after a terrorist attack. When he thought of the fanatics, he cursed them, and once again decided that sin can only be committed by the living. Might as well kill them all, and save everyone’s souls.
Instead, Bhutto was going to keep the world alive, and allow them to keep killing each other off, slowly and horribly. Perhaps they deserved it. The gift of the after life should be removed from such insolent people for as long as possible. Besides, who was Bhutto to question the mind of god?
‘Max, the world will think of me what It wants, anything I say, or do won’t influence there opinion, nor should it. ‘
‘Sheesh Boxie, you could have anything in the world right now, and you shun it. You are one stubborn Son of a bitch, you know that? ‘
‘Remember when I won the lottery? People I never even knew decided I was there best friend. All they wanted was a piece of me. Hell, if I hadn’t known you all my life, I probably would have had you shot also.’
‘So, this is a bad time to ask for a raise huh.’ Max said tongue in cheek. Out of everyone, Max always brought a smile to his face.
Ten years ago, Bhutto had won the Global Lottery, when the lottery was first started; it was to help provide funds for a crippled education system. Like any government program, it soon fell to ruin, Over bloating, every f*cking politician had to have there piece.
Bhutto, took the money, and invested it in numerous ways. One, he opened a private school, and hired the Best theoretical scientists to teach. Second, he opened a private space lane, at Furn Blatts. That with his ownership stock in the Bio polymer industries, allowed him to set up shop on the Moon. The government was unaware of this, However, if the world fell, he would have a secondary outpost from which to live, and plan.
His single winnings of 384 million had turned him into the worlds first Trillion ire, over the last ten years. There where times though, when he missed the days, of when his wife and him, had operated a small community ranch. Crogals, the once numerous herds that ran across the nation, had died out, when the Government decided to take there food supply, and turn it into fuel. The only thing stronger then his disdain for man, was his disdain for Groups of men.
‘Go to hell, Max.’
Max just chuckled, and hung up. He knew he would not change Bhutto’s mind.
Chapter Two.
Max turned to the reporters, and stated the run down of Bhutto’s plans. While it was highly technical, the premise was simple. 12 units would be grav lifted to points around the equator, and when initiated, the FTL particles would create a shield, that would stop 95 % of the suns rays from scorching the planet. Eventually the government would return with there astro mining probes, and have enough material to create solar arrays, to help the Energy problems. As it was, 8% of the world wore Collection suits. The suits converted body heat into Electric power, that was then stored in City batteries. Hell, some families f*cked there brains out, to have more kids, so they could get a check each month, because of there children’s body heat.
‘The plan should be instituted in four days, during that time; everyone will have to take shelter in the cities solar shelters. You will only be there for 2 days, and yes it will be hard, but we must do this, if we are to survive into the next millennium. ‘
Max always made the crowd feel like they had a part in things. Like it was there choice to save the world. As a press agent goes though, He was more honest then the typical talking heads.
‘Max, what about the Aroginals in the south? You know that with there Shamanistic views on life, they will not go to a shelter.’
Max was dreading this question, but the answer was simple. If they did not go, they would die. Ironically, They where one group that Bhutto could actually stomach for over ten minutes.
‘They will be afforded the same protection available as everyone else. However, if they decide not to go into shelter, then we will not force them. The last thing we need is a repeat of Kratna.’
Kratna was a global storm that had hit 2 years ago. The world government had decided that everyone was to be saved, so they forced people into shelters. Overcrowding soon turned to mass murder, those trying to flee, where shot by the auto guns, What was supposed to be saving the people, turned into an Internment camp, where people where raped and murdered. Had they been left on there own, they would have at least lived or died as free men. But the Nanny state always knows best.
Everyone in the room took a moment of silence. The rumble normally associated with press conferences was quickly shut down. It was Taboo, to speak ill of the government. However, Max had decided that what they can do. If they harm him, Bhutto would simply let the world die. Hellfire, Max still didn’t know why Bhutto even cared about saving this miserable lot of people.
After the whole public affair, Max went home. His wife, had poured him a scotch, and left it by his office chair. Max took a single sip, and sighed. God help us if this doesn’t work. Then again, he had seen Bhutto work miracles before.
12 years ago, Max and Bhutto had walked into an inn, after spending time on Goose Island, Camping hunting and fishing. Back then Bhutto was relaxed. Calm. As soon as they had entered, Bhutto saw a group groping a young girl. Bhutto’s complexion, combined with his Indian heritage, was always visible. Within seconds he looked like an Albino. Some say, all the blood went to his heart, draining from his limbs, by supernatural means, removing his pain. The law was surprised, though that 42 bodies where found that day, and the only fingerprints found on the murder weapon was Bhutto’s. A fire poker, near the Inns fireplace.
Max remembers that day as he takes in the aroma of the scotch. He had never seen such a one sided fight. Perhaps if they had 50. The girl later was married, Bhutto making a rare public appearance, giving her away to some Occidental lad. No charges had been filed, as no one could believe that one man could take out 42, with a piece of Iron. Thank god he wasn’t armed, as the .52 cal was in his truck.
Sherry came in to the office. ‘Max you did great at the conference, but remember, you have to be careful. Without Bhutto, those in the loop would be killed.’
Now Max was good in a fight, but even he knew, that Sherry was right. He would release another anecdote about him and Bhutto growing up, if for nothing else to ease the tensions with the press. Hell Bhutto even got a kick out of them sometimes. Max remembered when an old acquaintance tried to make a buck on Bhutto’s name once. He did it once.
Max finished the scotch, and took a long hard look at Sherry. She had aged gracefully, had the same stoic look, as she did when he first looked at her. Those days, she was wearing the partisans Uniform. A true freedom fighter, a shock troop that was at the time endorsed by the world government to react to instances of Civic disorder.
Max took her by the hand, leaving the empty glass on the table. They retired to there sleeping cove, and let Passion consume them.
Chapter Three.
Bhutto had swallowed deep, and let his mind control his agoraphobia. Everyone had demanded he be at Mission control at Furn Blatts, so he had acquiesced one of the few times ever, and made the trip.
The grav lifts launched without any trouble, and went to there designated positions. Within minutes, the request to engage the FTL device was on the main board. Car l simply looked at Bhutto who gave a nod in the affirmative.
With that, the nod the world changed. The FTL particles did there job. They spread across the ionosphere, and reinforced the shield that in good times would have shielded the world from solar disarray.
The world also went to rust. That means the color of the sky changed to a rust color. Bhutto looked at the monitors, saw that any hope for a Blue sky was over, but mankind would survive.
ON the Vid phone was the President.
‘Bhutto, the world owes you big time. You have given us a fighting chance to live, and we are in your debt. ‘
‘Save your platitudes Mr. President. I did what every human should have been doing. Surviving in this piss poor world.’
No one talked to the President this way, Since the accords of 91, saying that no political party shall speak ill of another political party ( all in the name of fairness), the law had fell to the peons of the world. Bhutto, had removed himself from world politics though, had no party, and as such, could say what he wanted. Besides, Bhutto had little respect for the president, since he had made the choice to become a Eunuch, in order to save him from children. Mistresses had long ago become the purview of most politicians. All this time on the planet, and people still lead with there Genitalia, or lack thereof.
Bhutto called for Max, and they went home.
‘Bhutto, what now? ‘ Max asked.
‘What do you mean Max?’
‘Well, you have saved the world, and I know you, you are goal oriented. I think you have hit the mother f*cker of goals. What’s next?’
‘Max, I just want to get older and die. Besides, it’s time I was reunited with Lindza in the after life.’
Max shut up, and they continued the ride in silence. He knew that Bhutto very rarely spoke of his wife, and when he did, even the accomplishments of saving the world would not heal that dark spot in his chest.
What should have been glorious, was instead a dark and ominess ride of what was to come.
Stephen
