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Tuesday, 24 November 2020

SOMETHING EVA THIS WAY COMES ~ Part 1 of 2

 

SOMETHING EVA THIS WAY COMES ~ Part 1

by Richard Banks


The President pulled-up the blind and peered out the window at DC’s lights and the purple-pink clouds behind which the sun had just set. The City was on the move again, the ebb flow of commuters heading back to the suburbs by road and rail. Had it been an ordinary day he would have taken satisfaction from the steady movement of traffic on the arterial roads leading to the Superhub and the motorways beyond, all clearly visible from his office on the 48th floor. But this was no ordinary day and no press notice would be issued tomorrow drawing attention to the success of Traffic Edict 204/164 in increasing inner-city speeds by 2.4 mph.

         On an ordinary day, he would not be making a target of himself by standing in a brightly lit room in full sight of anyone with a telescopic rifle. It would take a good shot to hit him but since the construction of other high rises it was now feasible, according to his Chief of Security, for a good marksman to do so with the latest weaponry. Pressed to quantify the risk the Chief conceded that the odds were low, maybe two per cent, but it was two per cent too many and that this figure would only increase with each passing year. The President should keep away from his office window and wear a bulletproof vest at all times.

         The memory of his words brought an ironic smile to the President’s face. A two per cent chance of being shot equated with a ninety-eight per cent chance of not being shot. He was an optimistic man, these were odds he liked. What was not to his liking was the zero chance of him and everyone else above ground surviving until morning.

         The approaching executioner had first been sighted by a NASA observer called Eva who invited to name the asteroid, promptly did so after herself. At first its unexpected appearance in the night sky attracted little more than academic interest, its irregular motion indicating that its normal orbit had been disrupted by an unseen collision in the asteroid belt. Despite its large dimensions, similar in size and shape to the Dover Cliffs, it seemed little threat to Earth. One more wobble would send it well clear but, when the asteroid failed to oblige, the scientists did the maths that told them that a collision with Earth was ninety-eight per cent more certain than the President being shot at his window.

         The news of impending doom was imparted to an international audience at a meeting of the ten most technologically advanced nations, convened ostensibly for the purpose of discussing climate change and its effect on the global economy. In a closed session unwitnessed and unreported by the world’s press, the President informed the minor Presidents, First Ministers and Chancellors there present of what was on its way. His scientists and military advisers, he told them, had been working on a solution for nearly three weeks and were yet to find one. The United States nuclear arsenal could shatter the asteroid into small pieces but this was only possible when it was closer to the Earth than the Moon. The Earth would still be hit and the consequences of many minor strikes would be as terminal to the human race as one large one. If a solution was to be found it could only come from his own great nation or one of those there gathered. This was a time for them to put their differences to one side and work together for the common good. While they did so, their populations and those of every other country in the world must be kept in blissful ignorance of what was happening. Public anxiety might too easily give way to public disorder. If nothing could be done it was better, kinder, to say nothing.

         Three more weeks passed without a solution being found and the asteroid was now within sight of amateur astronomers whose enthusiasm for their discovery was as yet untarnished by the knowledge that it was on a collision course with Earth. At this point Government observatories issued press notices confirming that they were fully aware of the asteroid which, they ‘confidently’ predicted, would come closer to the Planet before passing safely by.

         When all hope of avoiding a collision was gone the nations concentrated their efforts on ensuring the safety of survivor populations in underground bunkers. While only the best and most useful were to be selected the President like every other Head of State was able to add persons of his own choosing to the list of those to be saved. In this he was more stinting than other world leaders, opting to save only his two daughter’s who on the day of destruction were to be escorted by the FBI to an underground installation on the pretext that they were attending a Party rally.

         As for himself, he decided to remain. He would go down with the ship and in the company of the woman to whom he had been married for twenty-nine years. At this moment she was on her way to him at White House II. When she arrived he would go down to her car and they would drive to the place he had chosen to go.

         The President picked-up one of the telephones on his desk and spoke to his Secretary in the adjoining room telling her that once he left the office she was to go home to her family. On being told that she had no family and could not go home until Henry, the out of hours liaison officer had arrived, he issued a Presidential order that the two of them were to go to the Supreme Grill at the Ritz and have dinner there until further orders. The Secretary giggled nervously, thinking she was the butt of a joke she did not understand. The President assured her that he was being entirely serious and that refusal to comply with a Presidential Order was a disciplinary offence that would have her demoted to Paper-keeper, Second Class. He had no sooner put down the phone when his private line rang and the voice of his wife informed him that she was in the Presidential parking bay. Abandoning the many papers on his desk he bid his Secretary a pleasant evening and under the watchful eye of security staff made his way down to the ground floor where his wife was waiting.

         The President was a man of generous and sometimes unexpected impulses, so his wife was not surprised when he insisted that she drive over eighty miles from the family home in order to meet him. What he was up to she had no idea. As usual, he would enlighten her when he was good and ready, but the signs were good. The invitation to meet had come directly from himself rather than his secretary, and this encouraged her to think that something entirely agreeable to herself was about to happen.

         The elevator door opened and out he came, followed by two FBI agents whose remit that evening was to keep him safe despite his cavalier disregard of the measures considered necessary for his protection. He seemed in better spirits than of late as though the many burdens of Government had been lifted from him. She shifted over into the passenger seat so he could drive. He enjoyed driving, usually too fast along the Superhighways where he would routinely break the speed limit often leaving his minders far behind.

         “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

         “Not far,” he replied. “Close your eyes. We’ll be there in five.”

         “Close my eyes, with you at the wheel? When did I ever do that?”

         “You did once. Don’t you remember?”

        

         Indeed she did. How could she forget the young lawyer who had picked her up outside her office in a red Mercedes that he had rented for the weekend. It was their first date and she sensed, indeed it was only too obvious, that he was trying hard to impress. Normally this would be a turn-off. She liked the easy charm of men, attractive to women who were in no hurry to choose, men who had to be won over, beguiled. This man was different, not at all her type. She wondered why she had ever agreed to the date, but she had and would now have to make the best of it. At least she would get to have a decent meal, see a play, or do whatever else he had planned. But what did he have planned? It would be a surprise, he had said, and when she stepped into the Mercedes he still wasn’t letting on.

         “Close your eyes,” he had said.

         “Do what?” She retorted.

         “Trust me. If you don’t close your eyes it won’t be a surprise.”

         So she did or nearly did, peeping out from time to make sure he wasn’t getting up to any monkey business. But this, she soon realised, was not only unlikely but virtually impossible given the speed at which he was driving and the rapid manoeuvring needed to pass every car in front of him. They were on the wrong side of a main road, full of brightly lit shops and neon signs when he abruptly turned left into the courtyard of a building that few but the seriously rich ever ventured into.

         “You can open up now,” he said, and when she did the first thing she saw was the name over the door, ‘The Grand’.

         For the first time that evening, she was impressed, seriously impressed, although in truth more so by the restaurant than her escort who she now regarded with a wariness bordering on non-comprehension. How could a young lawyer living in a down-town bed-sit afford this? She spent the rest of the evening trying to find out but never did. Instead, he told her of his plan to be the best, the most successful lawyer in the Capital, and how this would be the stepping stone for his entry into politics.

         “For what party?” She had asked.

         He seemed surprised by the question and swotted it away as though it was an irrelevance; as President, he would lead not follow. Parties evolve. It would be his job to show them the way. Of course, he couldn’t do this entirely on his own, he needed help, her help. How did she feel about becoming First Lady?

         “Did that involve being elected?” she asked.

         He replied that all that was needed was for her to be the wife of the President. That done, and the nuptials could take place anytime before his inauguration, she would be the razzle-dazzle, the patron of every good cause likely to reflect favourably on his administration. They would be the dream team that sometimes connected politics with showbiz. It was a good offer he told her, not every girl got to be First Lady. She thanked him for his favourable consideration, she too had political ambitions and if she ever needed a First Man she would let him know.

         “I asked first,” he said. “Tell you what, after my second term you can have a go. Do we have a deal?”

         He did not have a deal and she kept him waiting until their fourth date before accepting the undersize ring that he somehow squeezed onto her finger and which she couldn’t have got off even if she wanted to. By then she knew him for what he was, what he claimed to be, the best young lawyer in town. As to the future, it was unlikely to be dull. She was a girl that liked to travel and this was going to be one hell of a ride.

 (to be continued)

   Copyright Richard Banks

 

2 comments:

  1. Nicely written Richard, would have liked to publish both parts but it was just too long. Gives your readers something to look forward to tomorrow eh?

    ReplyDelete