One week later Rick Pickles found himself on the steps of the residence of the President of the United States of America, who once was termed as the most powerful person on the planet. Rick smiled, not in friendship to those around him but at the irony that he would now usurp that title and the previous holder was handing that title over willingly. The UN had decided that the White House would be the most appropriate place for the inauguration, James Orwell had willingly agreed and it was rubber-stamped by the Senate. The great and good from around the world were now gathered on the lawn in witness of this great and momentous occasion, some were excited by the future prospects, others, those with doubts, looked on with something approaching trepidation. The host, President Orwell, stepped up to the cluster of microphones, and looked up at the swarm of hover-cams that buzzed around like demented hummingbirds.
“My friends, colleagues, heads of state,” started The President, “It is my pleasant duty to welcome you all here to day to this emblem of government that is this historic house. Today we are gathered to witness another historic event, an event that will surmount all other events of its kind. At last the world is coming together as one, one race, one planet, and one mind. It was once felt that the one reason for the world to come together like this would be an invasion from space. I am glad that this is not the case; so let me now hand you over the General Secretary of the United Nations, Franklin Watson.”
There was a short, polite, round of applause as Gen Sec Watson came to the lectern and looked up at the throng of people before him. “Thank you Mr. President, this is indeed a great day for our planet. For the first time in history the nations of the world have all agreed on one action, and that action is to come together as one. One people, under one banner, and eventually one government. We are here today to install our first World President Designate. In this respect we have no president to guide us, however any President must be sworn in and we have consulted with a several national leaders who have Presidents and ultimately with the Senate of the United States. We have taken the oath that President Orwell himself took just a few short years ago and we have adapted it to suit this new situation.” Watson turned to where Pickles was seated, “Mr. Pickles will you join me please?”
Rick Pickles rose from his seat and stood to Watson's right, “Raise your right hand and read the oath on the prompt screen,” Watson said quietly. Pickles raised his right hand and looked to the small screen. “I do solemnly affirm that I, Eric John Pickles, will faithfully execute the Office of World President and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend any such Constitution that will in future be agreed by the United Earth Government or such body that will eventually be formed. I so affirm.”
The applause started as Pickles readied himself for his big speech. At first it was indiscernible from the applause; it was a low rumble almost below the audible frequencies and was felt rather than heard. The light grey clouds that had covered the blue skies of Earth for so long now suddenly turned to black over the local area of the White House, as the rumble turned to a roar. Every head looked heavenward as the clouds seemed to part and reveal a glowing red and orange fire, then the screams started as the guests on the lawn scattered in all directions. Then the howl started, at the end of which a bolt of plasma shot out from the fire and headed for the front steps of the White House. Pickles saw it coming just in time to jump over the balustrade into a small rose garden; he rolled into a corner just as the plasma hit the podium where he had been standing a second before. Where the small group had been standing there was just a black stain on the white stone, the US President, his first lady, the UN General Secretary, and several senior Senators were all dead. Another ball of plasma whistled from the burning cloud overhead but this time it disappeared over the White House, heading south-east. Within seconds there was a huge explosion and a plume of smoke was seen to rise into the air. Someone shouted, “The Capital's been hit!”
The scene was one of chaos, and suddenly Pickles felt himself being grabbed by four strong arms, that lifted him from the rose bed and almost carried him up the steeps and inside the White House. He stumbled and was forced to run down several corridors to an elevator that waited, doors open. He was forced into the lift where several people, obviously, Secret Service agents were waiting, and the doors quickly closed followed by that sinking feeling you get from an express lift descending. As the doors opened, somewhere below the White House, the agents became visibly more relaxed, and they allowed Pickles to walk unaided. As the doors to the bunker closed the whole room shook, as if shaken by an earthquake. “What the hell is going on,” Pickles asked of one of the agents.
“We're not sure sir, we just assume that we are under attack,” he explained, “President Orwell is dead and the Vice President is in Seattle being protected as we speak. As you are World President, we thought it would be best to protect you Sir.”
“Thank you,” Pickles said with some feeling.
“You survived because of your quick reactions Sir,” said agent Elizabeth Mainwaring.
“I don't think that was my reactions, it was as if someone threw me off the steps,” explained Pickles.
“Adrenaline can make us do some amazing things at times, Sir,” explained, Mainwaring, “would you care for a coffee Mr. President?”
“Please,” answered Pickles looking to the large screen at the head of the table.. A mug of coffee was placed in front of him on the long table just as a com-call came through. One of the agents accepted the call, and another agent appeared.
“Do you have President Pickles there,” the agent asked.
Mainwaring, who now seemed to be agent-in-charge, responded, “Yes Sir we have him in the bunker safe.”
“We have extensive damage to the Capital Building,” the agent said, “with so far at least two-hundred, thirty fatalities, and the Pentagon has been hit also, no casualty estimates from there yet. However the fire in the cloud seems to have disappeared and the overhead seems to be back to normal. Stay put for the time being until I give the all clear.”
“Affirmative Sir,” said Mainwaring, “what's happening with the Vice President Sir?”
“Air Force One is on the way to collect four-square as we speak, he has been informed”, said the senior agent on the screen.
ooo000OOO|OOO000ooo
Just under an hour later President Pickles was whisked away in a Secret Service LIMO to the new Cosmopolitan Hotel, where the Service maintained a fully a protected suite. Two hours later the suite was visited by the Assistant General Secretary, now Acting General Secretary, of the UN, a British career diplomat, by the name of Tristram Brown.
“Mr. President, this has not been a very auspicious start to your presidency,” Brown said as he offered his hand, “Sadly I have had to step into Watson's shoes, Sir, and we need to move things forward.”
“Of course,” said Pickles as he shook the rather cold and clammy hand, “please, take a seat.” The two took seats across a low table, “Do we know what happened yet, the attack, I mean.”
“As far as I have been told, it seems to have been a freak natural occurrence,” explained Brown, “there were no aircraft in the area at the time and there is absolutely nothing showing up on radar, I would just forget it Sir. In the mean time we need to find you a base of operations, we have two offers on the table; the EU is offering an extensive complex on the outskirts of Rome, to the north-west, not far from The Vatican. Alternatively we have an offer from Israel, who it seems have a vacant office block that you can have exclusive use of whilst they build a more impressive and purpose-built World Headquarters.”
“Hmm,” said Pickles thoughtfully, “I can see the irony of being jowl to jowl with the other world-wide authority; however, I think Israel may be the more appropriate option, since it was their proposal that landed me in this position. The Israelis, I feel, may be more supportive of the cause.”
There was a knock on Jim Markson's office, to which he reacted with a single word, “Come!” As the door opened Jim looked up, “Owen, what brings you here, I thought you were in mid-term and heading for exams, not that it's not nice to see you.”
“I just had a day off tomorrow so as I'd finished lecturing at mid-day, I thought I'd pop down to see you all, and Manchester is quite depressing at the moment,” said Owen Gwilliam. You head about Rick Pickles?”
“Yes indeed,” answered Jim, “the world has gone mad, come on lets get to the sitting room for a drink, I’m due a break.” The two crossed the pool area to the main block in the sultry but pleasant warmth of the Cyprus spring, “Who knows you're here?”
“Spoke to John on approach and he came out to meet me, and that's it,” said Owen. Jim changed direction and headed for his living quarters to tell Carol who had arrived, then diverted again toward the communal sitting room. He and Owen equipped themselves with a beer each and settled into two armchairs, “I knew there was something going on with Pickles, I told you ages go, didn't I,” Owen said as soon as he'd taken a long draught from the glass.”
“Well it's the inauguration today, It'll be on all vision links, if you want to watch, it will be starting around six our time,” said Jim. A moment later Carol joined the two giving Owen a sincere hug. The three chatted for some while and John joined them at around five minutes to six.
“Mind if I switch the TV on, it's that Pickles guy's swearing in, could be interesting,” said John, “Your buddy Pickles seems to be making a name for himself Owen.”
“He's not my buddy, John,” retorted Owen, “the man is a megalomaniac, look at that fiasco in Jerusalem when he jumped off the roof in front of hundreds of people, he just can't help himself being the showman.”
“This a little bit more serious than performing techno- tricks, Owen,” commented Jim.
“Well all I can say is God help the world,” added Owen.
John switched off the mute on the soft-screen as the commentator started the introduction to the swearing in. They watched in silence and then in astonishment as the plasma balls descended upon Washington. The fifteen minute coverage turned into a full hour as the various experts voiced-over the many live shots of the damage caused and the death toll that continually rose. There were very few words spoken in the sitting room until Owen made the first observation, “Well, I think we can take that as being God's message and comment on that inauguration, don't you.”
“On the other hand, it could actually be just freak weather,” said Jim.
“Right,” said Owen, “those plasma balls just happened to hit the three seats of power in Washington. Just like that time way back in the last century when Bishop Jenkins, in York, announced he didn't believe in the basics of the faith, and lightening hit York Minster.”
“Really, I didn't know about that,” said Carol.
“Look I accept that Jesus is my Saviour,” said Jim, “but I am still not sure of all that stuff in the Old Testament, especially Genesis and all the times God has supposedly intervened in the affairs of man. I can attribute most of them to a gullible Iron Age people.”
Owen jumped in immediately, straining at the leash, “Jim haven’t you actually read the Bible, because if you had I am sure you would have noticed that there are plenty of clues scattered through the Old Testament as to who dictated much of it.”
“Not one of these Bible Code nuts are we Owen?” Jim laughed.
“You know me better than that Jim,” Owen scalded him, “look I'm a nuts and bolts man, I deal with the evidence. What would you say if I told you that over three thousand years ago, in the Book of Job, it tells us that the three stars in Orion's belt are moving apart and the open cluster the Pleiades are bound together, we only found that out when Doppler Red-shift was discovered. And in Isaiah it tells us that the Earth is round, that it is suspended on nothing in space and that God made the universe expand, all of which we only found out in the last few hundred years, and this was all thousands of years ago, and there is very much more. Who else other than the creator could know such things?”
“Yes I was reading about this a while back,” interrupted John, “the Old Testament has all kinds of sophisticated scientific information, about the oceans, cosmology, astronomy, physics, thermodynamics, even our atmosphere and weather. I was stunned Jim,”
“You know as well as I do that those people were not as technologically backward as we would think Owen,” countered Jim, “look at all the artefacts we have discovered and the control rooms, they were anything but primitive, surely their astronomy was also advanced.”
“Jim you can't have it both ways, you just called them a, ' gullible Iron Age people',” Owen stated, “in any case, I am fairly sure that all that technology you have been finding has nothing to do with your gullible Iron age people.“
“You have evidence of that Owen?”
“Only circumstantial, admittedly, but it's quite strong,” started Owen, I think that all the technology you've uncovered and, especially the control room technology, is of angelic origin.” Jim opened his mouth to speak but Owen held up a hand, “Let me finish Jim. Firstly, if all that knowledge had been common knowledge, history would have recorded it, and history would have been recorded differently, science would not have wasted centuries on alternate theories. Let's look at the control rooms Jim, look at the seating, why are all the chairs in there so large and high off the ground. When I sat in the principle chair my feet were a foot off the floor and two normal sized people could have sat there comfortably, just right for me of course,” Owen laughed. “All the controls themselves are a little oversized for us, and look at the height of those doorways. The Crete control room was never above ground Jim, like the temple, the temple, or palace, was built on top of it Jim, John will tell you, he said so when we were digging Jo out, the control complex is actually built below the natural stone, it was never meant for it to be accessed from our world.”
Jim was silent for some minutes, deep in thought, “How did we miss those facts Owen, we are supposed to be professional archaeologists?”
“An easy thing to miss Jim, we were all dazzled by the technology, but I was there for months afterwards with the UN team, I had a lot of time to look at things and reconsider them. The Angels were God's workers, but they were also created beings, like us, but a little above us, the Bible says, so it makes sense that Angels would have manned, if that's the right word, the control rooms.”
“Do you have a list of all these scientific verses in the Bible Owen, I'd like to read them for myself,” asked Jim.
“Sure,” answered Owen, “I'll have to send it through when I get back.”
“I can give you the address of a couple of net sites,” said John, “Lots of information on them by reputable scholars.”
“Thanks John, I'll take both,” accepted Jim, “this takes a bit of getting used to.”