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
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.
Copyright Richard Banks
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?
ReplyDeleteYes, Richard, I await eagerly!
ReplyDelete