SpaceCorp (37 page)

Glide bomb ejection sequence complete.

The rotund man standing at the podium spoke of change, of the great dissolution to come, and how it was for the betterment of all. He spoke of the different cultures that had evolved in and around the land over the last three hundred years. He described how those cultures had grown apart and taken root in various regions of the land. People in the crowd wept at the speaker’s words. Others hugged their loved ones close. Their feelings were freely given, genuine. No compensation offered, none expected.

Tip-over commencing.

He spoke of different values evolving over the decades and great wars fought on their behalf. He said America should not ever again make war on itself. America should no longer harvest the flower of its youth, to eat of the fruits of thinly veiled imperialism, to plant its seeds on distant hateful shores.

Target area coming into view.

He spoke of new beginnings. A time to acknowledge new identities. A time to live peaceably as neighbors do. Neighbors having a shared heritage, but separate futures.

On glide path.

He spoke of new boundaries. Alaska, Hawaii, Washington, Oregon, and California would become the sovereign nation of Sierra. Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico would be the sovereign nation of Promised Land. The Confederate States of the Great War of Northern Oppression would join with Kansas, Oklahoma, Kentucky, and West Virginia to form the sovereign nation of Dixieland.

Target lock.

Delegates from the mid-northern states of Idaho, Montana, the Dakotas, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Wyoming, Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and Missouri had expressed interest in accepting the invitation to join British Canada. Delegates from Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, and the New England states had similarly expressed interest in accepting the invitation to join French Can—

Detonation.

November 8
^th
, 2071

The Crypt under the Capitol Rotunda

The carnage from the blast was severe, taking out all members of the West Steps gallery behind the podium. The heavy bullet proof glass panels arranged in front of the podium shattered into millions of almond-sized fragments propelled at high velocity over the top of the on-lookers. Because the onlookers were below the Steps, the fragments caused few deaths, but there were numerous reports of eye injuries and hearing loss. The seat reserved for Congressman Robert Carroll from Alabama had been strangely vacant that day, but with almost all of the regulars from Senator Pitstick’s Committee of Natural Causes now deceased, it fell on Congressman Carroll to call for the meeting that was taking place in a basement meeting room deep under the Capitol Rotunda.

“Is this place safe?” Senator Rebecca Chelsea Rodham from New York asked. She was the great granddaughter of Senator Hillary Clinton whose husband President William Jefferson Clinton (1993-2001) had started the nation’s longest running political dynasty at the Federal level. Although the current senator was married to a man named Smithers, she had followed the popular practice of choosing a surname from her mother or father’s heritage rather than taking her husband’s name.

“It’s been standing for 250 years, darlin’,” Senator Carroll said. “Ever since the War of 1812.”

“You may address me as Senator. If I need to be somebody’s
darlin’
, it won’t be yours.”

Senator Carroll made an expression of mock fear amidst a chorus of catcalls from the men who had gathered behind him.

Senator Shriver of Massachusetts banged his gavel, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may we dispense with the playground antics and bring this meeting to order?”

“That depends, Senator,” Congresswoman Anita Franklyn from Maryland said. “I count fifty-five congressmen and senators here. Not a quorum technically. Do we nevertheless intend to treat it as such?”

“The Congresswoman raises a valid point,” Senator Shriver said. “Is there to be discussion on that topic?”

Senator Carroll raised his hand.

“The chair recognizes Senator Carroll from…ah…”

“The great state of Alabama, sir! And while we may not have a legal quorum, I say we most certainly have a quorum in courage. The invitation was extended to all active members of the Congress or their appointed successors. We in this room are the only ones with the guts to show up. Therefore, we are the ones to set policy.”

“Discussion?” Senator Shriver paused, but there being no discussion declared, “Motion is carried. What we decide here today will be treated hereinafter as binding policy on behalf of the United States of America.” With that he banged his gavel and stated, “Next order of business?”

Again Senator Carroll raised his hand. This time Senator Shriver just nodded.

“I’d say the next order of business is obvious. As my esteemed colleague, Senator Aloysius J. Pitstick from the great state of Georgia—may God keep his soul—advised us, we have grown apart in the three hundred years since our founding. Are we still the United States of America, or is it time to take up new boundaries and identities along the lines of what the good senator was prescribing at the time of his death?”

“How do you wish to proceed on this matter, Senator Carroll?” Congresswoman Franklyn asked without waiting to be recognized. Then she nodded to Senator Shriver, “Forgive my speaking out of order.”

Senator Shriver merely nodded. All recognized that with death from above ever possible, brevity was the essence of survival.

“It’s quite simple, my dear Congresswoman. By my tally, I see we have at least four representatives from each of the proposed nations suggested in Senator Pitstick’s unfortunate speech. I propose we sequester ourselves according to those proposed nations and deliberate for the next thirty minutes as to whether that proposed nation be given license to form a legal and sovereign nation, valid from this day forward—subject to ratification by the states affected by that new nation. The ratification vote should take place in 90 days. If a proposed nation chooses to retire from the United States in order to realize a more up to date identity for itself, it may have leave to do so without fear of the remaining American States subjecting them to another cruel war of aggression. In a like manner, those nations opting to keep the original union intact may do so without fear of aggression from the new sovereign nations. I yield the floor for further discussion.”

“It sounds like you’ve given this matter considerable thought, Senator,” Senator Shriver said.

“Indeed I have, sir, for many years now. It is no secret that we of the
Revived States’ Rights Democratic Party have long entertained the notion of a country of our own, only by…
legal
means that would not be tantamount to a declaration of war. I believe you will find similar leanings among my colleagues from the other proposed new nations.
”

“Is anyone against sequestering ourselves for this purpose for the next thirty minutes?” After waiting a few seconds he announced, “Very well then, we shall reconvene with our decisions in thirty minutes. I myself shall refrain from participation as befits my status as chairman.”

*   *   *

Senator Shriver went upstairs and strolled about the floor of the Rotunda. He peered up at the father of the country.
So god-like.
What would he say about the state of the Union today?
What would he say about what we are doing here today? How can I stand down here and look him in the eye?

The great Crypt underneath the Capitol Building was built hell for stout, filled with forty Doric columns to support the ponderous weight of the Rotunda on the floor above. Originally intended to house a tomb for George Washington, construction was thwarted by the British when they partially burned the building, delaying construction until 1815 when the War of 1812 ended. So Washington’s body was laid to rest at his beloved Mount Vernon in a new tomb that he stipulated in his will be made of brick. The Capitol had to content itself with a fresco painted in 1865 at the top of the dome by Italian artist Constantino Brumidi called
The Apotheosis of Washington
in which the country’s father may be seen seated at a throne in heaven surrounded by Greek gods representing War, Science, Marine, Commerce, Mechanics, and Agriculture.

Two hundred years ago, Shriver thought, Greek culture surmounted the Dominionist Christian culture that dominated today’s heartland including much of the plains and southwest states. New England and the Southeastern states had a shared Christian heritage dating back to colonial times. Why had New England evolved Jesus into a god of compassion and love while the South had evolved him into a vengeful tyrant? Why had New England taken the nearsighted view of the world of today while the South had taken the equally blind farsighted view of an apocalyptic hell waiting just around tomorrow’s corner?

*   *   *

Back in the Crypt, the members were standing in their positions awaiting his return as Senator Shriver returned to the podium. He consulted the old pocket watch he kept in his vest pocket. It was a Hamilton railroad watch, 21 jewels and nearly 150 years old. It had been handed down generation by generation starting with his great-great-grandfather who had been a Pullman conductor during the Second World War.

“Am I late?”

“No Senator, we’re a bit early is all,” Senator Carroll said.

“Have the representatives of the new nations reached their conclusions?” Senator Shriver asked.

There were nods around the room.

“May I see them?” he asked.

The senators and congresspersons looked at one another, then one by one each walked to the podium and handed the old senator their tally sheets.

He studied them briefly. “I see,” he said voice tremulous. “I… I can’t do this… I can’t even watch
you
do this. I must excuse myself from these proceedings.”

Congresswoman Franklyn walked up to the shaky Senator Shriver and gently took hold of his right arm. “Do you need someone to go with you? Are you feeling all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Just need a bit of air is all. Please carry on for me.”

After the old senator had left the Crypt, the congresswoman began reading the tally sheets. “Sierra: four in favor, two against. The vote carries. Promised Land: five in favor, none opposed. The vote carries. Dixieland: fourteen in favor, none opposed. The vote carries. The mid-northern states: seven in favor, five opposed. The vote carries. The New England states et al.: ten in favor, five opposed. The vote carries. Puerto Rico has decided to become a sovereign nation unto itself. And finally Guam has decided the same. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have lost one nation and gained five new ones, not to mention ceding a great deal of territory to our two neighbors to the north.

The delegates from Promised Land and Dixieland began wild cheering and clapping. The rest of the delegates were somber. Undismayed, Dixieland and Promised Land continued their uproar which seemed only to gain fervor until it was interrupted by a gunshot coming from somewhere above.

Fearful that the Capitol might be under attack, the meeting broke up and everyone ran up the stairs into the Rotunda. There lying face down on the stone floor, his right hand still clutching the snub-nosed .38 revolver, his head shrouded by a crimson halo, lay the body of Senator Preston Theodore Shriver of the great state formerly known as Massachusetts.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
S
IX

November 15
^th
, 2071

A small coastal village about 14 km north of
Sirik
in Southern Iran

The Supreme Leader stood at the edge of a crater almost 10 meters deep and 30 meters across.
Bondārān
was a tiny village having no significant structures. The blast had neatly erased homes and shops for a soccer field sized area surrounding the crater.

“How many dead?” he asked.

The mayor had to lean in and cup his right ear. There were still dried blood trails coming down left side of his face where his eardrum had ruptured. “Eh? I am sorry…” he said pointing to his ear.

The Supreme Leader leaned into the mayor’s right ear. “How many dead?”

The mayor’s face brightened when he comprehended the shouted question. “We think at least 114, Excellency,” he shouted back. “Some of the bodies may still be covered in the rubble.”

The Supreme Leader recoiled from the mayor’s volume. He placed a quieting finger across his lips and said, “You need not shout—I can hear you.”

The mayor nodded, his face fallen.

“And where were you when the blast occurred, Mayor?”

“At prayer, Excellency. I was protected by the walls of the mosque, Allah be praised.”

“And the bodies? Have they been interred yet?”

“For now we are storing them in various buildings around the village. We thought it best to get them out of the sun. They are quite… horrific to look upon, Excellency. Their wounds… part blast… part lacerations. Many are missing limbs. One… a child… was cut cleanly in two,” he said sawing his right hand across his left palm.

“I would see them. Take me there now.”

“Yes, Excellency.” The mayor signaled for an open jeep to drive over. He tipped the front passenger seat forward and assisted the Supreme Leader into the rear seat, then the aide. He put the seat back into position and climbed in. “Take us to the warehouse,” he said to the driver.

Before entering the warehouse, the mayor unstoppered a bottle and splashed some of the liquid into one rag, then another and handed one to Supreme Leader and one to his aide. The Supreme Leader raised his left eye brow. “The coroner gave me this, Excellency. He called it pentmethyl… pentmethyl… something—”