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Small Radicals
We’re renegades. Nobody can deny that. Sure we’ve practiced Satyagraha, Gandhi’s idea about nonviolent resistence, but we’re unrelentless enemies of the state. Our contempt of American corporatism is known throughout the land, from Wall Street to Market Street. No group is a greater thorn to organized religion than our clandestine outfit known as the World Anarchist Collective for Kindred Yuppies (WACKY). As I was telling my good friend, Shiva Highheaven, we can’t stay in the U.S. while it is slowly being turned into a totalitarian, garrison state. How can we remain when martial law is being imposed, the FBI has put the entire left under surveillance, various diseases are being genetically engineered and intentionally spread, and that bombastic New Age music continues to bombard our ears? It has got to end. Our enemies throughout the land have hawked us with no let up. Several members of our group have been falsely imprisoned, some were even subjected to physical torture. Amnesty International ignored their plight. Even they refuse to believe that such barbaric behavior could happen right here in the good ‘ole U.S. of A. We know better. For a while, it was a mystery why some of our members were being taken out. Now, we are fully aware that it was part of an orchestrated CIA-led campaign to eradicate our movement. Why the hostility? We don’t wish to harm anyone. I’m actively promoting love wherever I go. I’ve always said to love thy neighbor unless he´s a total jerk. All we want to do is change the world. I don’t think that’s asking for too much. At first, we attempted to go elsewhere, but we weren’t allowed into other countries. Then, we resisted. We refused to pay taxes to the warfare, imperialistic state. Oh yes, we certainly did make a lot of money. Many of our members were successful Silicon Valley software professionals. They set up web sites, wrote Java applications, and sold all types of wireless devices to wholesalers and retailers. What magnificent comrades they are, freely handing over their earnings to the collective. All of that changed after federal agents started shooting at us while we were relaxing in our mansion in Hillsborough, California . Heck, it was Waco all over again. The only difference is that we did not have any militia sympathizers. Those folks probably thought we were pinkos and not worth saving. Well, that’s not us, for god’s sake. We are libertarian anarchists who believe in free association and communitarianism. Our heros include Kropotkin, Spooner, Emma, Chomsky, also literary figures like Tolstoy and Thoreau. Many of us are also Wiccan practitioners. We are witches and wizards, true enough, lovingly blending the forces of nature into a delicious stew; yet we vigorously combat the popular myth that we are evil Satan worshippers. We do not worship the devil, and no, we don’t bathe in lamb’s blood. We believe in the great earth goddess, the soothing Gaia life force, the primal spiritual energy and animism of nature. Call us pagans, radicals, revolutionaries, iconoclausts; but please, don’t call us in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, the earth goddess is dying. She is succumbing to a long battle with the terrestrial cancers. All the carcinogens and pollutants from smokestacks and autos, depletion of the ozone layer, mercury and contaminants in the rivers, deforestization, wreckless mining and drilling for so-called natural resources, acid rain, and nuclear waste are doing her in. I decided that it was time to take action. That meant that we had to branch out into an unknown, unexplored world. We were going to travel to a place where the federal authorities would never find us. In our hideout, we could plan our strategy to fight back and save our homeland: Mother Earth. Oh, by the way, my name is Aphrodite Gonagetya. I used to be a Silicon Valley yuppie marketing executive known as Natalie Anne Parker. I was quite successful with all of that marketing research, channel management, and promotional campaigns. My impeccable credentials included memberships in many professional organizations, SIGs, Mensa. I could have continued living that sentient-free existence. It would have been easy to keep raking in the money, selling my soul to high-tech bidders who were searching for the slightest advantage over their competition. What changed my outlook was a gradual realization that we were losing our basic freedoms, consummated by the attempted military coup. At the same time, corporate America was spiritually killing us. It was time to form a resistance. When I met my current soul mate, Buddha Schwartz, he was a theoretical physicist at Stanford. He was studying quantum computing, a hot area in applied as well as theoretical physics. With nanotechnology taking off in the Valley, it was only a matter of time before subatomic computers would be controlling atomic behavior. Joining the collective was a difficult step for Buddha. Our beliefs, customs and outlook of life clashed with his values. His icons were physicists like Richard Feynman and Roger Penrose, hardly run-of-the-mill anarchists. Of course, our blend of radicalism, spiritual transcendentalism, and hi-tech endeavors was too much for him to handle. Well, at first anyway. Buddha gradually adapted to our lifestyle. He found solace in our lovely, organic biogardens, not your typical Hillsborough backyard. There were so many variants of fruits, vegetables, plants and trees; some of them were genetically engineered. He told me that it reminded him of his work experience on an Israeli kibbutz where he picked citrus in the orchards. While we consider Zionism to be a reprehensible ideology, we view the kibbutz to be a model society, a brilliant mix of agriculture, industry and communal enterprise. It was difficult for Buddha to grasp our interest in Wiccan beliefs. We did not press him to join us. Instead, we marvelled at how the techie physicist took to meditation and introspective contemplation. No one in our group failed to notice what a calming influence he was upon us. His smile, bursts of wisdom, and free spirit took the edge off our rugged exterior. It was in this vein that I decided to name him Buddha. So there you have it, some background info about our group and why we are hiding out. They’ve turned us into bandits. Can you imagine that? With names like Shiva, Buddha, Aphrodite, and Zohar, you would think they would enshrine us. Well, we no longer expect those lilliputian technocrats to give us the benefit of the doubt; but as small as they are, surely they’ll never find us in our even tinier submicroscopic string worlds. I won’t get into the details of our pioneering technology. I’m afraid that this info could fall into the wrong hands. We have to be extremely careful about what we say and to whom we speak. Suffice it to say that Buddha and Zohar have worked dilligently on the project, perfecting the topological connectivity process enabling folks to travel to exotic subatomic spaces.
“Where’s Buddha?” asked Nephretite. “I’m getting worried about him.” Nephretite is a loyal warrior in our fight for justice and the emergence of the New Society. She has it all: brains, integrity, charm, good looks, high energy; yet the quality that I like best is her dedication to my collectivist vision and cause. After I created the Social Liberation Planning Committee, I made her chairwoman because I had no doubt that she’s the most qualified person to carry out our plans. “He’ll be coming shortly with Shiva,” I replied. “That’s easy for you to say,” she countered. “He has to travel through all of those mazes and tunnels.” She was referring to Buddha and Shiva’s trip through miniature space. It was by no means an easy route from ordinary reality to our subatomic enclave. I won’t explain why she didn’t mention Shiva as well. “They know what they’re doing, carving out in space what they're calling topological pathways.” Buddha once described it as ‘rolling out the roadmap while driving alongside it’. He explained that the trick was to pinpoint where to roll it out. Some spaces are more conducive for human contraction. “Well, let’s hope that he doesn’t get lost. We know all too well that this transport process is faaaar from being perfect.” “I know. But remember, we can’t blame ourselves for those accidents.” “Why do you say that?” she said abruptly, with a staccato delivery. “Undoubtedly, we could have prevented them from happening.” “We did everything we could under the circumstances.” “Did we? I’m not so sure. Did we thoroughly test out inanimate objects before we engaged in human transport?” "Listen, Neffie, I did what I could," I spoke, raising my voice. "Don't forget that we were under great pressure to get out of there. We didn't have too much time to escape from the authorities. As Commander-General of this organization, I had to make some difficult decisions; but I believe they were the correct ones. We managed to get here safely, after all." “Look, I’m not personally blaming you. It’s just that when people die ...” I felt that I needed to interrupt her. “Neffie, dear. It broke my heart to see this happen to them, but remember they are noble martyrs who died fighting for a just cause.” “The problem is that they weren’t fighting. They were traveling.” I realized why she thought that way. This is a natural human reaction to an unfortunate occurrance. It’s easy to point an incriminating finger at the leader. Still, I acknowledged what she said, and I simply did what I always do when someone expresses a point of view that I don’t agree with. I knodded my head and changed the topic. “Let’s go make dinner.”
How amazing it was watching Buddha and Shiva pop right into view without any warning. It was as if space opened its mouth and spit them out like sunflower seeds. The two of them, arriving at the same time, looked to be worn out; but I marvelled at the alacrity of this magic act, how they miraculously appeared out of thin air. Equally astounding was how smoothly they landed on their rumps. “Man, what a rough trip that was,” panted Shiva. “Thought we were doomed.” “Manifold exhaustion,” replied Buddha. “The dynamics of those manifolds dissipated over time. Made it more difficult to unfold the directional pathways.” Buddha explained these manifolds are spaces with lots of connections. Shiva and I were looking down at the semi-transparent surface of our microspatial city. Directly in view were all types of strings merging together and splitting apart, a true wonder of nature not known about on Earth; yet all he could do was stare obliviously into space. “Well, we’re just glad you made it without any defragmentation. Otherwise, we would have had to find a way to make the whole greater than the sum of the parts,” I said, looking Buddha squarely in the eye. “How do ya like that one, dear enlightened one?” “It’s not for me to like or dislike,” he replied. “Merely to puzzle over.” “Hmm. What? ... Ohh ... Ooohhhhhh!! I got it. One of your semi-koans.” “Label it as you like. I’ll stick with the indescribable.” “Riiiiight. Anyway, we’re happy that you made it. Neffie was getting pretty worried about you.” “I wasn’t worried,” she retorted. “That’s not what you told me, honey.” She wanted to reply, but she became quite distracted. We were floating towards some vibrating superstrings, or perhaps they were drawing us in. I was intrigued with their loopy shapes. They reminded me of the Spagetti-O’s I loved as a kid, except they were throbbing and pulsating like they were alive. Possessed pasta, that’s what it was. Good grief, what a Bougeous concept. Buddha and Shiva were hovering above us. They were negotiating the best angles with their video cameras. Buddha, in particular, wanted his physicist friends back on Mother Earth to see what they could only imagine. He once talked about putting together a documentary about his subatomic adventures. Perhaps Shiva was thinking about how he could symbolically use the power of the superstring to depict social and political upheaval. He often talked about toppling the government, yet he wasn’t too creative about what to do after that. I didn’t name him after the deity of destruction for nothing. Neffie and I gently collided. Our transparent helmets klinked. This slightly caught me off guard. Neffie laughed, uncomfortably. I could hear it clearly in my ear piece. Within a few seconds, we settled down to a non-jittery floating state. We stared at each other. I felt that we were sharing the same thoughts. I could hear her think ‘how remarkable this was’, such an unfathomable yet exhilirating event. For an instant, I forgot about our revolutionary struggle and war against the government. The only thought entering my mind was how incredible it was to be a miniature astronaut.
Buckminster Fuller would be proud of the way we designed, planned and built our domed community. Many other futurists would be impressed as well, how we were surviving as a floating society in free space. Yet nobody could have envisioned how successful we would be as pioneers in this microspatial domain. Initially intended to be a haven while we masterminded our strategy against the government, it proved to be a viable futuristic society. We were convinced that once we toppled the fascists, we could bring people to this new frontier and perhaps build a network of micro communities. Neffie and I shared an apartment on the north side of the facility. I loved watching her wake up each morning. She had a most curious facial expression while rising from bed, a cross between a long drawn-out yawn and an amusing attempt to reach a high note. I loved her, not in the way that Buddha and I share our love, but like a sister I looked after. I was often protective of her, yet I wanted her to get a good dose of reality. Her idealism was certainly welcomed in our New Society; yet not at the expense of weakening our resolve to win the war back on Earth. “Good morning, Neffie.” “Morning,” she replied. She was staring at the ground, pensively. “Let’s have breakfast, why don’t we.” As she walked into the bathroom, I went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Neffie certainly is a bit of a health nut. I made her a fruit salad topped with some strawberry-banana yogurt. Also, she had a bran muffin, and I didn't forget about the wheat grass juice. I, on the other hand, made some french toast topped with lots of butter and maple syrup. She sat down at the table. We started reminiscing about the good old days. I did most of the talking, she was too busy horking her food. It was most incongruous how she could eat that healthy food in such an unhealthy manner. I ceased talking just to look at her, wishing that she would calm down a bit. “What are you so anxious about, Neffie?” “Nothing. You’re talking about all those exciting times we had, and I’m thinking about how we’re stuck down here in some isolated hell hole.” “You make it sound so cold. Try to savour the experience.” “Savour it? Savour? It’s giving me the fuckin creeps.” “Neff dear, we’re in a subatomic paradise, a place, no, a state of existence that transcends the greatest imagination of any human being, yet descends into the hidden depths of all of us.” “Oh, stop with the B.S. already,” she rudely interjected. “We escaped from the pigs. Zipped through some space tunnels. Weeee, what fun that was, getting bruised and everything. Now, we’re trapped in this dungeon. What joy.” “OK, I see it’s more serious than I thought.” “Damn right it’s serious. We’re not going to get out of here. I told you ...” “No,” I interrupted. “I’m not talking about our situation. I’m talking about your condition.” “I’m fine, thank you. Don’t worry about me, oh great one.” “For one thing, I didn’t realize you were so claustrophobic.” “Of course I am. I’m boxed in so tightly with you firing all of that psychobabble at me. That would make anybody claustrophobic.” “And paranoid too.” “Look, we have to get out of here. Listen to me.” “Haven’t you seen how calm everything is? Doesn’t that tell you something?” “If we get a false sense of security, that’s when ...” At that moment, there was a loud explosion that severely rocked our apartment. The milk spilled on the table, our breakfast dishes fell to the floor. I felt the tremors ripple through my body. Neffie jumped out of her chair. She ran over to the front door to make a quick escape. As she approached it, there was another explosion. A projectile smashed through the front door and almost hit her. It raced through the living room and just missed me as I was diving under the table. “Neffie, don’t go out there. They're shooting at us.” “Oh, how could that be? This is Shangrila, right?” She opened the door and started walking out. “Stop. Don’t go. You’ll get hurt.” Another projectile went through our apartment. I got out from under the table and ran towards her. I was about five feet away or whatever it was in microspatial scalar units. I leaped across that span. My heart pounded right through me. My mind spun out of control. Maybe if I had a better running start. Or if I didn't dive under the table, like a coward. If I had sheltered her. Heck, even listened to her idiocy. I could have, I know I could have, undoubtedly ... “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. Sweet Jesus in his jack boots. Aaaaaaaah. It feels so incredibly different. So terribly unusual, Afro. Oooooooh. My guts, ohhhhhhh, it hurts quite ...” I quickly grabbed hold of her. I dragged her back into the apartment. The shooting intensified outside.
Buddha opened the front door of the apartment. He walked in with a slight limp, favoring his right leg. His shirt was ripped in front. A few drops of blood dripped from his right arm. Undoubtedly, he was engaged in some type of struggle. He was holding one of the direct beam weapons he designed in the laboratory back on Earth. “Shiva,” he yelled, uncharacteristically. “He betrayed us.” “Buddha, you have to help me with Neffie. She’s been hit.” He walked over to the sofa where Neffie was lying down. It was a stroke of luck that the projectile didn’t penetrate too deeply. She had been shot in her left side, near her stomach. With a sturdy pair of tweezers, I managed to ease it out of her. After stopping the bleeding, I applied some rubbing alcohol to the wound, then placed a large bandage over it. Her eyes were closed, but fortunately, she was still breathing. “An FBI mole undoubtedly.” “Where is he?” I asked. “He must have been feeding them info about our activities all of this time. Gave away our codes, our secrets, whereabouts, ...” “Is he outside?” “Yes. He and the state terrorists he brought with him. They’re firing at us.” “Just stay focused and don’t get carried away.” It was obvious he was flustered. Then again, he never was prepared to deal with a chaotic situation like this. “First, help me take care of her. We’ll deal with the rest of it later.” Although it was a struggle for him, with his injury and all, he helped me carry her into her bedroom. Clearly it was safer to keep her out of firing range. We put her in bed and covered her with a quilt. Then we returned into the living room. “OK, so where’s Zohar?” I asked. “We could use his assistance.” “I didn’t see him. Maybe he escaped,” replied Buddha. “Back to macroworld?” “It’s possible. He could have sneaked to the transport center, placed himself in the bubble chamber and activated an inverse transform.” “I doubt it. He depended upon you to do all that stuff.” “Yes, you may be right.” “Alright. I’ll try contacting him.” I went over to the dining room table to pick up my cell phone. I pressed the auto dialer; he was number three on my list, behind Buddha and Neffi. After letting it ring a few times without a response, I disconnected and tried again. There was still no reply; it went directly to voice mail. “Nothing. Hmmm. We better look for him. Fine. Here’s what we’ll do. First, burst right out the front door. Then, I’ll swing to the right and you ...”. Before I could finish, someone was shooting at us through the window. Buddha panicked and dropped to the floor. The cell phone slipped out of my hand. I grabbed my laser gun from under the sofa and shot at the perpetrator. I didn’t get a chance to see his face. He unexpectantly backed off. At that point, Buddha slowly rose to his feet, but fell back slightly due to his injury. Fortunately, we managed to get out the front door before being shot at again. As the shooting resumed, we ran to the nearest building, which was to our right. It was the public commons area where so many of our social activities are held. We entered the building and made it to the far end of the social room. Then we walked down the corridor leading to another quadrant. It’s a strange feeling to find refuge in this place. I for one couldn’t stand most of those pedestrian social events which took place here, although Neffie organized many of them. Sometimes I could not tolerate being around the others in our society. Yet there was no denying that I yearned to have my comrades with me right now. They surely would have helped us in this difficult time. I just didn’t think most were ready to join us down here. Now, I was regretting that decision. “Let’s see. We’ll go into that closet there,” I mumbled. “Why go there? There are better hiding places.” Buddha never did care much for confrontation. “OK, wake up and follow me.” I opened the closet door. It was a fairly large area, by scale, about ten by five feet, housing a few filing cabinets, a book case filled with all types of revolutionary literature, and some loose articles of clothing hanging on hooks. Nothing too out of the ordinary except for that button behind the book case. I pushed it and ... “What’s happening?” Buddha asked, abruptly raising his tone and waving his hands in the air. The hidden door in the back of the closet slid opened. “Let’s just pass through and save the questions for later.” As we started walking through the passageway, a few optically-sensitive lights automatically turned on. The door behind us quickly closed. We walked down a narrow corridor before descending a spiral staircase. “I assume we’re going to get help.” “I’ll do what we can,” I replied. “Good. We’ll come back for Nefretiti.” “We’ll see what happens.” Buddha gave me an incredulous look. He was evidentally looking for a more compassionate response. As much as I wanted to keep Neffie out of danger, I had to also think about saving our collective society. Once we made it to the bottom of the staircase, we embarked on a journey through a labyrinth of concealed passageways, corridors, doorways, and crawl spaces. It took us over a hour to reach our destination.
As we emerged from the underground labyrinth, and onto the surface of the visible walkway, we were greeted with the site of an architectural wonder, a large building with carefully positioned exterior glass and superimposed domes. It was the transport center. In my opinion, this was the most beautifully designed building in our utopian community. Be that as it may, there was no time to marvel at its splendor, for we were hard-pressed to escape from this would-be Armageddon. I summoned Buddha to follow me quickly through one of the side entrances of the complex. “Make sure nobody is following us,” I told him. “We’ve been pretty discrete.” “Apparently not discrete enough.” What a feeble koan, I thought. That didn’t sound like my Buddha. I turned around to tell him to knock it off, but was shocked to see we weren’t alone. Buddha also looked back as well. It was Zohar carrying Nefretiti. “You were trying to get out of here, weren’t you,” said Zohar, his face seething with anger. “We were going to get help and bring back reinforcements,” I replied. “Were you going to leave Nefretite down here, in her condition? LOOK AT HER!” “Let’s not quibble over the details. We have to get out of here.” “Details? It has nothing to do with that. It’s all about the basics, and you basically betrayed her.” “Look, this is becoming a Western shootout. They’re moving in on us. We have to sneak out of here before ...” At that moment, the shooting started to resume. A few projectiles were fired in our direction. I quickly activated the remote control to open the entrance. “Buddha, Zohar, go ahead.” Buddha and I managed to get inside. As Zohar was halfway through the door, he stumbled. Nefretite fell out of his arms and towards the floor, but Buddha, bless his quick reflexes, caught her just in time. He leaned her against one of the interior walls. I yanked Zohar’s left arm, pulled him through the door, and reactivated the remote control to close the door. Then, I changed the code sequencer so nobody else could enter. Nefretite was just coming out of her slumber. When her eyes fluttered open, Buddha gave her a comforting hug. Although it was a relief to see Neffi wake up, I felt somewhat envious of her at that moment. It would have been nice for someone to take care of me for a change. There was sporatic fire outside the complex. While we were completely safe with the doors closed, it was possible that the enemy could find another way to get inside. I wanted to allow the others a chance to rest up, but I felt that we needed to act quickly. We stayed put for a couple of minutes; but that’s all the down time we could afford. “Zohar, how are your arms and legs holding up?” I asked. “As good as they’ll ever be, I guess.” “Good. Are you up to doing some more carrying? I don’t think Neffi is ready to go about it on her own.” “I think I can walk,” replied Nefretiti. “Lemme give it a try.” She walked a few steps, before stumbling a bit and placing her hand over her wound. “Alright, nice try dear. But save the heroics for later. Zohar, give her a lift.” “Oh come on ...” Before she could protest further, Zohar lifted her. Buddha was still limping, but since it was an agonizing struggle for him to get here, he wasn’t going to quit now. We all went down a long corridor and then took a few turns into empty hallways. Then we approached a security gate intended to keep out unauthorized personnel. I motioned the guard to let us though. He was one of the few required to wear a uniform, for security reasons. “Hello, Ms. Aphrodite. Good seeing you folks. But didn’t you just arrived a couple days ago? You usually stay a few weeks.” “We have to get back to the motherland to handle some unexpected situation which has occurred. We’ll return in a few days or so, hopefully.” “Fair enough.” The guard deactivated the optical barrier. Behind that, the plexiglass door rose to the ceiling. “Thanks Paul. Make sure that nobody else is allowed into the facilities.” “Will do.” We went through and proceeded to walk about thirty scaled meters to the control room. I opened the door and motioned the others to enter. As the group entered the room, however, I heard Zohar let out a scream. I instinctively went into the room, and to my chagrin, noticed that the room was more crowded than it should have been. I was expecting to see only the control operator and his technical assistant, not Shiva and two of his thug cohorts. “Well, well. Aprodite caught trying to get a way,” said Shiva, as he pointed his laser gun at us. “You bastard, how could you betray us like that?” I felt like lunging at him, but kept my emotions in check, more or less. “Careful what you say, Oh goddess of love, before you become the goddess of anger and hostility.” “We offer you paradise and you sell out to a fascist police state. It's you who's the complete embodiment of anger and hostility, not to mention betrayal and thuggery.” Shiva’s thugs didn’t react too kindly to that. One of them started reaching for his weapon; but the second thug prevented him. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control him the next time,” said the second thug. “So how did you get in here?” I asked, trying to remain calm. “Why, we snuck through the back entrance, of course. Some of that ultra-secret, highly classified info you indoctrinated us with actually came in handy.” That would explain why Paul didn’t see or say anything. They took another route. “But you had to get by another security guard. How ...” “... did we manage to get by him, you ask?” Shiva completed my sentence, as he gave me one of his patented twisted smirks. “ Well, he does know me, after all. But he was quite pesky with his questioning of my two friends here from the bureau. I tried persuading him they were new recruits to the community, but he wouldn’t budge.” “What he’s trying to say, madam, is that we had to knock him out,” said thug number two. “Standard operating procedure when we’re in an emergency situation.” Shiva started laughing. “Ah, J. Edgar Hoover would be proud. Very proud indeed. OK, enough with the formal greetings. Let’s walk down the stairs and join the crew.” He was referring to the control operator and his assistant. They were lying on the floor, all tied up and gagged. At that moment, Paul entered the room. He looked at me for an instant. As the first FBI agent was about to shoot at him, I quickly knocked his gun out of his hand. Buddha, picking up on the queue, tackled the other agent. Zohar started fighting with Shiva. Neffie tried helping Zohar, but she was too incapacitated to help out. Shiva pushed her to the floor. She managed to crawl behind a desk. Paul was only armed with a stun gun, but he fired it and knocked the agent off balance. I picked up the gun and shot him in the shoulder. He reeled from the thrust of it and fell to the ground. Then, I piveted towards Shiva and gave him a hard kick. He turned towards me with full wrath and vengence in his eyes. As he pointed his gun at me, Zohar twisted his arm until the gun dropped to the floor. Finally, as the other agent escaped from Buddha’s embrace, and attempted to run out the door, Paul moved forward, bent down with his arms locked together, and rammed right into his knees. The agent let out an agonizing shreek, but more importantly, he fell to the ground face first. It was so beautiful. We had put an end to this government-led insurrenction right in the midst of our transport center. I turned towards Paul. This man was going to be immortalized in the annals of our revolutionary history. “Thank you, my dear friend. You are a hero, clearly saving the day. Carpe diem, and all that.” “I was in shock. I, I didn’t even think about it. Where did they come from? I mean, they didn’t get by me.” “No, they took the secret entrance. Shiva knew about it.” “Guess you have to be more careful whom you trust.” “A lesson we had to learn the hard way,” I replied. “By the way, why did you come into the control room? We are, of course, eternally grateful that you did. But what made you come in, and why did you give me that half smile?” “Well, Ms. Aphrodite, you left your remote control device at the desk. I thought you would need it later on. That’s all.” This time, he gave me a whole smile. I, in turn, gave him one great, long hug. Buddha untied and ungagged the two captives. They were clearly very exhausted. Zohar used the rope to tie up Shiva and the FBI agents. “OK, Paul, you need to alert the other guards that there are more infiltrators outside. Use the spare stockpile of weapons to arm them. Don’t allow anyone through the gates.” “Nobody? Aren’t there others who you’ll want to transport out of here?” “No. There were a few others, but they, well, they were, killed in the crossfire.” “More martyrs, right?” said Nefretiti. I could not bare to look at her. I stared at the floor, pensively. “Yes, yes,” I sighed. “More martyrs, through no fault of their own.” “We better get going,” said Buddha. “Right. Tell the control operators to set the coordinates to our hideout location. We’ll plan our strategy from there.” “Err, not quite. I have a better idea.” He whisphered into my ear. We walked downstairs and into the transport room. The control operator and his assistant placed us upon the transformer platform. They gave us some specific procedural instructions how to handle ourselves during the journey through Microspace and back to Macroworld.
It was dark and cold. I was rocketing through some insulated twisting tunnel of sorts. It reminded me of the times I watched Dr. Seuss when I was a child. Seemingly, I was moving both downward and outward. It was difficult to determine how fast I was travelling because I was somewhat disoriented. Nevertheless, one thing crystal clear to me: I was continually getting larger. The tunnel must have been enlarging as well. Buddha warned us about the rockiness of the return trip home. He explained that a process known as diffeomorphic connectivity was used to preserve our environmental dynamics during our travels. This would insure smooth motion as we travelled through manifold spaces; yet he explained it was more difficult to control movements during a period of expansion. Some of his colleagues were busy developing an expert system to control the unsteady motion people experienced during their journeys. They were hoping to have a trial version ready within a few months. I started slowing down and leveling off. As this was happening, I noticed it was beginning to get lighter. I popped out of the tunnel and was sliding on the floor inside some building! A few disbelieving people watched me glide through the hallway. I was heading towards some door that was halfway open. My first thought was that I was going to crash. I reactively extended my hands out in front of my body; but to my surprise, I passed through the doorway without any incident. I slid a few more feet before I came to a complete halt. When I stopped, I took a deep breath. I grabbed my helmet with both hands and jiggled it off my head. I shook my stringy hair off my face and wiped my forehead. As I was slowly rising to my feet, I noticed the others in the room. “Well, it certainly took you longer than the rest of us,” said Buddha. “You missed all of the excitement,” remarked Zohar, laughing as he was pointing his laser gun at some man standing behind a desk. “Fine. I can live with that. But tell me, where exactly are we?” I asked. “Don’t you recognize the Oval Office?” replied Buddha. He shut and locked the door. “The Oval Office? But I we were supposed to be transported inside the Pentagon and you would await my arrival.” “That was the plan. But they somehow picked up our signals and scrambled the destination coordinates. I tried to reset them, but they implemented some new encryption algorithm. Fortunately, we were able to set up a bipass directional pathway and end up here.” “Alright. We’re here now and we’ll just deal with it. So, if this is the Oval Office, that man over there must be ...” “That’s right,” interrupted Neffi. She looked a lot healthier than when I last saw her. “Take a look at the simpleton. The leader of the free world no less.” She and Buddha started laughing as well. The simpleton looked at all of us in stunned silence. His hands were slightly trembling, his face was pale. He resembled a deer staring into the headlights. Did he think we were aliens from another planet? Or perhaps Space Shuttle astronauts just dropping in for a visit? I watched him try to formulate a sentence. It took him a few tries, muttering some incoherent phrases along the way. Finally, he spoke, uneventfully. “This is all just unbelievable.” We were all now laughing hysterically. The simpleton started laughing as well. The only one who didn’t join in was the man who was bound and gagged near the desk. I surmised he must have been some type of aide. “Well, my dear Aphrodite, this was all pretty easy, I must say,” said Buddha. “Not for me. That was one very bumpy ride back.” “But of course. I explained to you beforehand it was going to get that way at times,” said Buddha. “I’m talking about the transition.” “The transition to what?” I replied. The simpleton looked at me. He wore this expression of some distant hope that I would explain the situation to him; but it was unclear to me as well. “Why, to the new revolutionary government, silly,” teased Zohar. Neffi walked up to me and put her arm around my shoulder. “Say hello to our new leader,” she said. “But you can’t do that. That’s treason, and you won’t get away with it. This will surely get your asses fried,” said the simpleton. Zohar started explaining the situation to him. “There will be no more frying going on here. No more state executions. Got that? You and your boys have been deposed I’m afraid. We’ve already transported some of our prime operatives into key government buildings. The Pentagon, CIA headquarters, National Security Council offices, and so forth, are all under our control.” “Wait a minute,” I interjected. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. I explained to you that it was premature. Why didn’t you wait for my command? You could have put us in great danger.” “Well, as you can see, there was a change in plans,” said Buddha. “We had to act quickly before anyone else in the president’s staff or the Secret Service found out. And if word spread to the intelligence services or Pentagon, we would have been in real trouble. So we spawned a series of operations to take over those facilities.” “But that doesn’t make any sense. That would have taken so much time. We just arrived here, didn’t we?” “Oh, but because of the redirect, you arrived much later than you originally thought. We’ve been here over an hour.” “But still, ...” “Like I said, we acted very quickly. And with hardly any violence. Essentially, we outmanoevered them.” “Well, you’ll still have to account for all of your actions during the Tribunal hearings.” “As you wish, my dear.” “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll grant you clemency.” “How bout a full pardon?” They both laughed. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll appoint you head of the new Department of Utopian Planning and Anarchist Delight. What do you think of that?” “Should I say I’m delighted, or point out how chaotic it will be around there?!”
original timestamp 3/21/98 7:54 PM |