Madness (14 page)

“Five minutes,” Milton Rogers called out, as Pendleton peered out through a crack in the curtain to see only the BBC set-up, waiting for the proceedings to start. Since only the BBC and the Al-Jazeera networks were operational, Pendleton instructed Rogers. “Place a call to BBC headquarters and have them order all major world networks to hook into their satellite feed.”

Rogers disappeared to handle his assignment.

With a deep breath, Pendleton contacted Professor Cline.

“Cline here
. Arthur, is this you?”

“Go in two minutes. I’ll not be in touch again.”

Rogers hurried back grinning as if he’d mooned the Queen. “Talk about stunned. You have the BBC and the former major networks hopping. They were all waiting for you to show up at the United Nations.”

“Good. Bring in my guests.”

#

Professor Thaddeus Cline’s finger hesitated over
his mobile app for triggering Bank 17 Missile 3. The world he knew would soon be gone. He sighed. That wasn’t a bad thing. He pressed the button and dialed Sir Jarvis Franks.

“Bank 17 Missile 3,” Cline said, and hung up.

#

“Where the hell is Pendleton?” Edmunds
grunted, as Li Ziyang strutted off the platform. He could see the video feeds switching to
Stand By
on all major stations. Edmunds picked up his phone and raised it to his ear.

“Codman, what’s going on outside
?”

“Global Realm forces have cleared everyone from Grand Centr
al Station and Fourth to 38
th
Street on my left and 50
th
on my right. They’ve been building to building getting people out.”

An eerie shiver raced up Edmunds spine, but before he could scream,
“Run,” his world ended.

#

A ball of flame and a cloud of concrete and metal soared into the air over the skyline of Manhattan. From his view on satellite in Oxfordshire, Sir Jarvis Franks along with his team cheered and popped the corks on several champagne bottles, as the United Nations building vanished. Nothing remained over five-square blocks.

Large plumes of water rose from the East River as debris crashed down to the amazement of the world. The Global Realm assume
d power.

#

From inside the
Widder Saal
event room, Pendleton’s grin broadened as the New York landscape exploded, engulfing the United Nations building and the world leaders gathered there. One by one, all major global networks connected their feed to Zurich through the BBC. Milton Rogers signaled the cameras to take in the combination of old and new that made up the
Widder Saal
event room. Pendleton studied the path the viewers followed as crews scanned the parquet flooring up to the wood paneling that was spaced to highlight the original stone walls.

The room, well able to hold two hundred guests comfortably, was empty, except for the broadcast crews and the Global Realm guards stationed at the elevators and entries to
Augustinergasse
and
Rennweg
. Cameras focused in several times on the guards’ uniforms with the olive branch and the dove insignia.

A pre-recorded voice announced, “Citizens of the Global Realm, you have witness the end of the corrupt world system you were born into. Today is the dawn of a New World Order—a unity of equals for the good of all Mankind.”

The cameras’ attention turned to the five distinguished gentlemen taking their seats behind an empty podium. A shaken BBC announcer read Roger’s pre-written statement regarding the individuals assembled in Zurich.

“In a moment, Global Broadcasting will introduce
the First Citizen of the Global Realm, Arthur Pendleton. Seated onstage are the members of the Global Realm unified military command, led by the former Chancellor of the Exchequer of Great Britain, Milton Rogers, center. On his left is General Marco Giamo, former head of the United States Joint Chiefs of Staff, and former Chairman of NATO’s Military Committee, Vito Costello. To Roger’s right is General Pavel Sakharov, former head of Military Defense of the Russian Federation and General Tzu Chui, former Central Military Commission Headquarters Chief for the People’s Republic of China.”

Pendleton moistened his lips and shook his hands, relaxing all the muscles in his neck and shoulders. His charcoal grey business suit and red tie clipped with a tiepin on an immaculate white shirt gave him the presidential look he wanted. The military might of the four major world powers united behind him—an undertaking accomplished because of the corrupt incompetence of the political leaders of their respective countries.

He nodded and the “Ode to the Common Man,” the theme he’d picked as the Globe Realm’s anthem, resounded across the world.

Behind the military, a royal purple curtain pulled open, and a confident Arthur Pendleton smiled and waved his hand as though he were greeting the crowds at Wimbledon. He maintained a brisk pace up to the podium
, paused ever so briefly, and said, “Future citizens of the Global Realm, you have been deceived for centuries by thinking Mankind is capable of ruling itself. Impossible, the way the world is presently structured.”

Pendleton quietly counted backwards from five. “One of every four worker
s earns less than a dollar a day. Fifty-million fellow humans die of hunger each year, eighteen percent of them children.”

He counted backward again, knowing important information needed time to sink in. “Yet, the ability to produce nutrients worldwide increased by sixteen percent over the last five years. Why are people starving? There are three reasons.
He raised a finger. “Greed—governments and wealthy profiteers hoard food for themselves.” A second finger went up. “Global warming—millions of people live in areas where, because of the climate changes, they can’t produce enough to meet their needs.” A third finger went up, “Distribution and Logistics—greed and profiteering makes transporting and delivering the needed vitals of life from one corner of the globe to another nearly impossible. Once supplies arrive, corrupt governments take far more than they need, leaving the hungry hungrier.”

H
e lowered his brow and frowned. “Your lives will change radically by necessity. We don’t have time to seek everyone’s approval. Yet I promise you this. Join us peaceably and you will prosper. Attack us and you will die.”

A series of eighty-plus pictures of missile strikes hitting government and military targets around the globe ran over the feed for almost three minutes. Then Pendleton said, “The recent attacks on the United Nations and greedy dictatorships around the world have eliminated the
former egotistical world rulers. As of this moment, the monetary system worldwide ceases to exist. The Global Realm will rush food and clean water to all persons who join us in locations where food and water is scarce.”

He turned and pointed behind him. “The combined military of the former People’s Republic of China, Russia,
the United States, and Europe now temporarily report to my second-in-command, Milton Rogers. They, and all trained law enforcement agents, will provide humane protection only to the citizens of the Global Realm.”

Pendleton wiped his forehead. “Over the next three months, your Global Realm leadership will embark on three major endeavors, and we will require your cooperation.
A worldwide cleanup of our environment begins immediately—first in your local neighborhoods and then working outward. Unless you have a vital skill, such as a doctor, nurse, or provider of utility services, you will clean up our planet. A list of instructions will be broadcast one hour from now on this channel.”

He could see hundreds of Swiss standing outside
, pushing to catch a glimpse of him at the podium.

“Second, during the cleanup,
all weapons and illegal drugs must be turned over to authorities. This is a one-time offer. After the thirty-day period, if you are discovered to be in possession of arms and/or drugs, you will be placed in a secure prison for ten years with no chance of parole.” He smiled self-assured. “No exceptions. Your safety depends on your compliance. Non-citizens will experience a worse fate.”

He glanced at his watch. He needed to be with Lovey when they operated on her. “Finally, within the next thirty days a series of mandatory tests will be administered. These tests will give each individual citizen, and the government, a baseline of your talents, interests, and motivations to achieve. You will determine what happens to you under the new system by the results of these tests
and your efforts to improve on them going forward. Before testing, you will be photographed, fingerprinted, assigned a citizen number, and a Global identification card.”

There was no way to avoid unpleasantness. Truth was truth, unpleasant or not. “Face it. Why did the wealthy need
three cars? Why did a third of the world consume more food than they needed while the other seventy percent suffered? Greed equals thinking about yourself first. Mankind must think about Mankind as a whole and stop the self-centeredness.”

Now to test their open-mindedness
.

“The human race came from one female and one male. Both the Bible and Science believe there was an Eve. Humanity started when Eve gave birth. Therefore, we are all related. That some of us inherited an IQ of 150 and others are able to lift 300 pounds is a factor of genetics. The point is whatever gifts you have use them for the advancement of humanity, not personal gain. We must think
us,
not
me.
”

He pursed his lips. “Instead of millions of automobiles, our communities will be walkable
in a decade. Everything from healthcare to education, recreation, and occupation will be reach on foot. If there is no need for cars, then there is no need for roads. Instead, high-speed rail will move people and materials across the continents.”

Pendleton gave a fatherly smile and said, “Over eleven years ago, the World Financial Corporation realized if we didn’t stop ruining our planet, we would have no planet. The government we are establishing is the only hope for the world. Pray for me and for the team I’ve assembled. If we don’t solve the world’s troubles now, life as we know it on this planet will cease to exist in less than a hundred year
s. If we succeed, this planet will thrive for millenniums to come. Thank you.”

The live feed from the
Widder Saal
ended. A pre-recorded documentary of
The Pendleton Plan
played worldwide. Focusing on the vision of the new government, the broadcast would educate people on the objectives for the future.

Pendleton shook hands with the team he’d assembled.
“We’ve come a long way, and I appreciate your cooperation.”

“And we know for a fact the United Nations building was destroyed?” General Sakharov asked.

“Quite so,” Milton Rogers answered. “We’ve had the satellite feed running throughout the hotel. Within the number of photos shown during Arthur’s broadcast were four pictures of the crater.”

“Eliminating the politicians eases my worries.”

Pendleton understood Sakharov’s concerns. Failure would make him a target in his homeland. Sakharov needn’t fear. The Slavic people would embrace him, and Pendleton vowed to make sure they did.

“Now you must forgive me,” he said. “Milton has called a meeting to both update you and strategize the orderly transition to the Global Realm. I’ll join that conversation later. My wife’s undergoing brain surgery, and I need to be at her side.”

With those words, he left the Widder Hotel and headed to University Hospital through crowds of stunned pseudo admirers.

Doctor Rueben Levi ordered an x-ray, a brain scan, blood work, and several neurological tests done before he operated on Peacock. He also needed to examine Doctor Kolb to see if she could be of any help by providing information he might otherwise not have about the implant and the way the devise functioned.

Levi reviewed
the tests and ordered additional chemical samples be rushed through the labs. Then he examined Peacock. He checked her vitals and shook his head. “Her heart’s racing at a hundred fifty-five beats a minute.”

He checked her blood pressure. “Two-hundred over a hundred and ten—she can’t keep those
readings much longer without doing some real damage, stroke, maybe worse.” He called over to his technician, “Bring the paddles.”

He examined Peacock’s eyes. “Set at a thousand volts, 120 joules. Shock her.”

He listened again and said, “Once more.”

Satisfied the heart rate was slowing, Levi waved the technician off and told the nurse, “Put a nitro patch on her to lower the blood pressure and prep her for surgery.”

He rushed to the scrub room and thoroughly washed his hands, when the assisting physician, Doctor Pederson, entered. “The team arrived caring for Doctor Kolb. She’s in Emergency and the test results are back.”

Levi grabbed the set of tests and headed to an office across from surgery. “Have Emergency bring Kolb here. Let’s you and I study these
findings.”

“
Mr. Van Meer insists on coming up,” Pederson said.

“Fine, as long as he stays in the family waiting room. That’s true for Pendleton as well when he gets here.”

The two physicians edged into their chairs and spread the pages out on the table. A lab assistant clipped the brain scans and x-rays up on a lighted wallboard that showed them the details. Levi rose immediately and pointed at the center view. “See the implant itself goes in behind the right ear where the occipital lobe and the parietal lobe meet.”

Pederson responded, “There’s been bleeding around that area recently, but because of the skull’s structure, the damage was minimal.”

“You see why this device is so insidious,” Levi said. “There are already formations of precancerous cells.” Levi sighed. “All indications are that the main areas of brain damage have occurred in the hypothalamus and the right thalamus. The way Kolb fused the device and the nerve endings created an emotional mess. We’ll do what medical science says to do. Then we’ll see what emerges.”

Medical science said
to perform the proven procedures. Correct the correcta
ble damage and wait. The ping of the elevator interrupted Levi’s thoughts. Kolb’s body rolled through the elevator doors pushed by Van Meer and an orderly.

“Hans,” Levi said. “Please stay in the waiting room until I’ve finished operating on Laverna.”

Van Meer nodded and left.

Levi bent over Kolb. “Oh my God.”

Her wounds nauseated him. “What the hell happened to her?”

“Mrs. Pendleton paid
Kolb back for torturing her,” one of the nurses caring for Kolb said. “She also shocked Kolb with the implant’s test machine for over five minutes at a rate of a shock every ten seconds.”

“Bea?” Levi said. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

“Squeeze my finger if you can.”

Still no response. Levi examined the burns on Kolb’s neck where Peacock attached the electrodes. He took his penlight and tested for any reaction—no reaction at all. He turned to his assistant. “Run the same tests we ran on Mrs. Pendleton. But I think Beatrice Kolb will fair far worse in the long run.”

Levi rewashed his hands
while his crew whisked Peacock into the operating room. He returned and examined her head. “I’m making an incision behind the patient’s right ear. Hand me a gigli saw. Okay, that’s enough space.”

“Whatever hit her smashed the implant,” Doctor Pederson said. “Nurse, hold the light steady. What do you think Doctor Levi? Should I yank the implant out?”

Levi poured over the images of the implant’s connections and threading farther into the brain toward the hypothalamus. “I don’t see any other reasonable choice. There is no invasion of the ocular area, no damage to the retina.” He straightened up and said, “This is one amazing feat of skill. Clip off the electrodes extending deeper into the brain and remove the implant.”

Pederson did as instructed, while Doctor Levi observed her brain’s reaction. “Look at the areas firing in her head
. Kolb wanted the ultimate warrior. However, she didn’t plan on Mrs. Pendleton’s brain modifying the implant’s instructions to her own purposes. Laverna has built strong support structures in some areas of the hypothalamus to the detriment of others.”

“Well,” his assisting doctor mused. “Medical science can help
repair the gray matter, but we can’t predict what the mind will do afterward.”

Levi went about removing the pre-cancerous tissue found in the implant’s cavity. Then came the rough part, how to remove the micro-thin electrodes without doing more damage inside the patient’s brain. “I see no evidence of mechanical insertion around these electrodes. I believe they were carefully pushed through the brain matter to the
desired spot.”

“While she was awake?”

“Probably.”

“Good God.”

“If I can remove them along the same pathway they entered, I theoretically will do the least damage.”

The technician darkened the room so the electrodes
’ path showed clearly seen as they exited the brain. Levi retracted the first electrode, a tiny threaded wire an inch and a half long and twenty-five microns thick. The electrode came out easily. The second electrode had a small kink in it. The same length and thickness, the kink, a small bend in the far tip, posed a real concern medically.

Levi wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“If I bring the electrode straight out like the other, the kink will tear brain matter. There’s also the possibility of leaving a piece embedded inside if the electrode breaks.”

The technician made a suggestion that surprised
even Doctor Levi. “I know we have micro-electrodes with magnetic ends. Would one of those help?”

Levi thought a moment. If he used the pathway parallel to the original, ran the second electrode beneath the first right down to the kink, he could then remove both with far less damage and far less chance of leaving the tip inside.

“Good suggestion, we’ll take a break while the special electrode is being prepped, then pull out wire number two, and sew her up.”

He checked her vitals. Heart rate 92, blood pressure 145/75, she was stabilizing. If the operation wrapped up successfully, he felt sure he’d know her mental state within a few days, if not hours.

Levi headed toward the family waiting room only to be stopped and diverted to the Chapel by three of Pendleton’s men. There Pendleton, Van Meer, and several bodyguards leaped to their feet.

“How is she?” Pendleton asked. His hands
were trembling and his words slurred a bit.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Three days ago, too much going on. I’ve had maybe forty hours of sleep in a fortnight.”

“Far too little, the decision making part of your brain will shut down.” Levi turned to Van Meer. “When is his next important meeting?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Van Meer answered, “a critical meeting to discuss how to deal with resistance against our forces.”

“Arthur,
Laverna’s implant has been removed. I removed one of the two electrodes and ordered a rush on a part I need to remove the other. Physically, she’s doing fine. Get your rest. A full eight hours should do the trick.”

Surprisingly, his mentor didn’t object, instead, Pendleton asked, “Where’s a good place to sleep here? I can’t face people back at the Widder Hotel.”

“Show Mr. Pendleton to our deluxe accommodations,” Levi said to the administrator on call, and Pendleton and his entourage headed off.

Levi hurried back to the operating room
and checked Peacock’s vitals once more. Before attempting insertion of the magnetized microelectrode wire, he again sterilized the area. Convinced he’d cause less damage running a parallel line, he inserted the device. The easy part for Levi was insertion. The hard part was withdrawal.

The magnet worked flawlessly, binding the two probes together, and providing a smooth rather than jagged
removal. “There’s some bleeding. But less than I would have expected.”

“She
has little abdominal fat to inject with the stems cells,” Pederson said. “But it’s such a small opening, this amount of stem cell should be sufficient for bone growth.”

“Let’s close her up. Time two-twenty a.m.” Levi
called out. “The operation is concluded with minimal additional damage to the affected area.” He turned off his recorder. “As far as the physical side, great work. As far as the need for rehabilitation to normal functioning, I’d say a lifetime, if ever.”

“For a person who has been exposed to what she has, what is normal functioning?” Pederson asked.

“Hell if I know,” Levi replied.

#

Samatar Muhamad, a section distribution captain working for UNHFD, peered up at the dust clouds approaching from the northeast. He shook his head and pushed up on his toes, trying to make some sense of the whirlwind coming his way.

Women, carrying their babies with little children in tow, headed passed him toward the Dadaab city center. Rumors flew that foreign invaders pulverized Mogadishu
with fire and were sweeping through Somalia and Ethiopia slaying anyone firing a gun—particularly the warlords, who they sought out and killed.

From the rumors Samatar had heard, this army dressed in khaki with their leaders dressed in black. On their flags
flew an insignia of an olive branch and a dove. “Don’t panic,” Samatar called out to people passing by. “We have no guns and no warlords here.”

He continued his trek, stopping at each tent, handing out purified water to those inside from a battered-up Volvo L495 Titan truck.  As he approached the northern border of the refuge
e camp, out of the dust emerged huge vehicles that slowed their pace. A lone Jeep 1980 CJ-7 sped passed him heading toward the town center as the other vehicles pulled to a stop.

Samatar ran a
s fast as his feet could carry him. These were military personnel, but they had no military equipment. He’s hopes rose for the first time in two decades. He pushed through the crowd to find a place from which to hear, getting close enough to see was not an option.

“Greetings from Arthur Pendleton, First Citizen of the Global Realm,” the man spoke first in Bantu, then repeated his words in English and Oromigna. “The world as you knew it has changed. Our forces are setting up unification centers and food distribution centers at four points outside your camp’s perimeters.”

What is the Global Realm? Who is Arthur Pendleton?

“If anyone has a gun or other weapons, turn them over to the processor at the enrollment center when your turn comes. Do not fear. We are here to assist you.
Still, I must warn you. Anyone found with a weapon by week’s end will be imprisoned.”

Samatar’s world had changed by seven o’clock the next morning. After a breakfast of dates, oatmeal, and a drink that tasted like God had dipped
His finger in it, he edged into a chair across from an oval-faced man whose skin was blacker than coal.

“State your full name,” the man said, in soft, perfect Bantu.

“Samatar Azer Muhamad.”

“And where are you from originally, Samatar Azer Muhamad?”

“Kismayo, near the Jubba River.”

The man accessed his computer and stared at the box a long time before saying, “Three people have your exact name.”

“How do you know?”

The man chuckled. “Only by what’s on my screen, but let’s test the computer’s accuracy. One man is a butcher. He was married, but his wife was murdered and one child slain.”

“I’m not a butcher.”

“Another man worked at the airport until the airport closed. He fled during the warlord civil war four years ago with his wife and three children.”

“Mohammad, Syrad, and Ifrah are my children. My wife, Miriam, was killed during our escape.”

“And your children?”

“My sister-in-law has them the last I knew. After being raped and tortured, they let a few of the women go. I couldn’t help.”

“You have no weapons, Samatar?”

“No sir. I’m a follower of Mohammad, the prophet. May God give peace to his soul.”

“Your sister-in-law is in a camp thirty miles from here to the west. That camp will be under our control shortly.” The man pulled out a camera and three documents. “Fill this out, Samatar Azer Muhamad. By doing so, you pledge faithfulness to the Global Realm and become a citizen.”

Samatar tried to grasp what he heard. “What will happen to me?”

“Nothing but good, you will assist in cleaning up th
is camp as people are relocated. When your family is found, they will be brought to you.” The man clutched Samatar’s hand. “You will be required to help until all the people have been identified and relocated. Take the tests to assess your capabilities, and you’ll be assigned a permanent career path.”