Wicked Messenger by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 17
By August 1, 2058 all thirty million Elis had successfully landed in America. As they were instructed they huddled in remote areas and remained small. They were continually menaced by all kinds of insects and wildlife, and were totally dependent on their “silver bullet” carrying, military protectors. The first nine thousand Sunnies who had landed in Los Angeles, Fort Lauderdale and Dallas on Independence Day remained large, as they saw little choice in the matter after having announced their presence, and are continually menaced by all kinds of insects and wildlife, which were actually camera carrying reporters, kids with toy guns and independent paparazzo. They were totally dependent on the kindness of strangers as their
“silver bullet” carrying, military protectors couldn’t dare show or use them on camera.
In the case of the tiny, with each day the dislike of their frailty and dependence grew. But, even worse than that, they could bear no more of their required closeness to other Elis.
With many in an unbalanced state of anger and despair, despite controllers set on neutral, some started to openly speak of revolt in defiance of the overworked military. Their slogan became “Living Large.”
In the case of the large, with each day the dislike of their frailty and dependence grew. But, even worse than that,
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they could bear no more of their required closeness to other Elis. With many in an unbalanced state of anger and despair, despite controllers set on neutral, some started to openly speak of revolt in defiance of the hindered military. Their slogan became “Try Tiny.”
Zeus got wind of what was happening and he was shocked.
Like everyone involved, he never anticipated that the lethargic, accept-anything Elis might become dissidents on Earth. He wondered if it was something in the atmosphere. Pragmatically, he ordered a checking of everyone’s controller, but didn’t expect that to be the answer, as it seemed very unlikely that they would all go out of whack at the same time, unless a previously unknown radical had advanced technology expertise. He did his due diligence.
Joshua sat comfortably unknown, living large and dependent on no one. Firmly ensconced in his Manhattan hotel room he watched a lot of Cable TV, focusing on the history, religion and science programming, trying to absorb as much as he could of what Earthlings believe. He tried to understand the reaction a little girl, like Becky, would have to such information. He heard of the protesting Eli stories via e-mail from insiders. It seemed so unlike the people he thought he knew a very short time
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ago. He tried to imagine himself in their place, and quickly concluded that he too, would be unhappy with the plight of the large and the small. And being in a new place ............ It’s the reverse of the person who spends a lifetime complaining about their job and after retirement doesn’t know what to do with themselves.
One of the problems he saw with life was that a person often sees only one state of affairs; like one job; like one spouse; like one house. They inevitably find all the faults of that situation, but have no opportunity to discover that other circumstances have just as many, if not more shortcomings. He chuckled to himself, thinking; “The big want to be small and the small want to be big. ........ Hmmnn. We are used to changing whenever we feel like it. Now, for presumably a short time, the government has ordered us not to do something to which we have become accustomed and the people are ready to revolt.” This line of thought was more interesting to him than the professors’
discussion of the “real” meaning of a Biblical story of Moses being denied entry into the promised land, currently occupying the screen. Maybe I don’t feel the same way because I broke the controller myself. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel in danger.
Maybe, maybe. Cronos would probably dismiss my mental meandering, probably as serving no purpose. And it well might
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not, but I’ve got a suspicion that the open Eli discord is going to lead to an unanticipated problem or two, or three.
On a personal level he came to a conclusion that he should have previously. Since Cronos was no longer asking him for intelligence reports he must have no use for them. “He definitely does not trust me. He wasn’t kidding during his last visit. He’s a crafty old fart, but it’s fairly stupid for people to tip their hands by altering their behavior, but most all do, no matter the intelligence level. He must think he knows something that I don’t. When he visited he made a point of looking into my rocket. Maybe he found something in there. Damn, I wish I could get small.” Joshua snorted a quick laugh at his similarity to the other Elis he shortly ago found somewhat silly. He didn’t know that even if he could shrink, he would not recognize the three transmitters versus one situation.
In Esperanza Becky became more and more hopeful of a peaceful resolution to the Eli integration with the passing of each incident free day. She sat on the porch with Grandpa and said; “I wish Joshua would call.”
“I’m sure he feels the same way. But, he has an important job to do.”
“Well, he’s not working 24 hours a day.”
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“It’s not that. You know that he’s playing a game with his people. I’m sure he considered the possibility of being investigated and doesn’t want to jeopardize you and me by getting us involved.”
Becky sighed and plaintively said; “Everything is going so well.”
Grandpa made no reaction, stared into the desert, and then excitedly exclaimed; “Did you see that? An eagle!” He got up and walked quickly toward the desert, pretending to be following what he never saw. Becky ran to keep up.
Near the mountain town of Murrayville, Tennessee two thousand nine hundred ninety Darkie Elis defied orders and ten other military Elis armed with “silver bullets,” by using their controllers to return to full size. When they saw the people trekking determinedly through the undulating deer paths, the military men decided that they would obliterate a few, thinking that after setting a few examples, that the others would then turn back. But, after annihilating one each, they saw their effort as futile and self-defeating, and joined the march, though they were shunned by the others. The leader put in an emergency call to Marshall Ordnance and requested further direction about how to deal with a mass insurrection of people who don’t give one iota of a damn.
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The townspeople saw the parade coming slowly down the hill miles before the first Eli got to town and panicked. From a distance it appeared as if a huge undulating snake was descending the high paths. Many children thought that zombies were slowly coming to get them; adults leaned toward angry ancestors. The Sheriff exhibited rationality by commanding that everyone else get inside as he rounded up every good man he could think of. This didn’t produce an overwhelming number, and as a consequence his makeshift army was predominately made up of marginals; any male over the age of fifteen with no criminal record or substance abuse problem. The rifle-armed minutemen set up a stand in a gully, peering over the top.
Two thousand nine hundred ninety, Sunny Elis near Old Chatham, NY were informed of the activities in Murrayville. They were inspired and decided that they had a better way. They remained small, flew their ship to the Brooklyn, NY docks and then grew, leaving the tiny military men to sit in the woods and wait for orders.
Across the entire USA, from California to Maine and from Washington to Florida, the news spread and the same scene played out wherever there was a contingent of tiny Elis. They followed the second model and flew small to big cities before growing, the military “silver bullet” holders sometimes joining the
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throngs and sometimes remaining hidden in the brush. With improvisation not one of his strong suits and “cover your ass” a career long dictum, Zeus Indiffant gave no orders and called for an emergency council meeting to determine if the others might know what to do.
Back in Murrayville, at a distance of one thousand feet, the descending Elis saw the armed troops. The ten military men equipped with “silver bullets” had another problem. As instructed, they did not want to use them on Earthlings for the risk of starting a mutually destructive war. Yet, these were the only weapons they had.
The leader sent an emergency e-mail to Marshall Ordnance and was surprised when he quickly got an answer. It said; “DO
NOT USE SILVER BULLETS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE AND AVOID
CASUALTIES.” He did the only thing he could think of which could possibly satisfy both orders. Having seen a few History Channel 1960’s segments, he ran to the front of the parade, held both hands in the air and used two fingers to show the peace sign.
The other Elis were unaware of the symbolism and thought they were following his lead when they pointed their hands skyward, thinking that they were demonstrating that they were not armed.
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There was confusion in the bunker. Joe Blasingame loudly yelled; “It’s a trick,” while his shaking hands held the rifle pointed in the general direction of the Elis.
The sheriff retorted; “DON’T ANYBODY SHOOT TILL I SAY SO.”
Joe Bookman had his own take on the upraised hands and said; “A religious cult.”
Sam Fieldstone said; “They’re surrendering.”
The sheriff said; “EVERYBODY SHUT UP.” He crawled out of the bunker, rifle at his side and yelled to the Elis; “STAY
RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!” However, stopping a 2,990 person procession is easier said than done. The Elis at the rear kept moving forward, forcing those in front to do the same or be trampled.
The sheriff steadfastly stood as the Elis grinded to a clumsy halt. He called out; “Who are you and what do you want?”
The front military man said; “We are Elis. We are seeking a new place to live in peace.”
The sheriff and the rest of his posse recalled TV reports they had seen about Elis, but up until now they thought that they were a bogus minority group looking for special considerations. He said; “Throw down your arms.”
Knowing that an Earthling wouldn’t know a “silver bullet”
from a lipstick canister, the lead man said; “We are not armed.”
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The Elis danced into town with their hands pointed at the sky, and the Earthly residents of Murrayville forgot earlier considerations and hawked rooms they had for rent at triple what anyone would have considered market value minutes prior.
The Brooklyn domiciled Elis marched four abreast through the streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant on their way to Manhattan. The residents ignored them, and waited inside for the temporary annoyance to abate, thinking that they were part of some
******** rally organized by Preacher Al.
Zeus called yet another emergency session of the council to order. He banged the gavel slowly, then said; “I think we all know what prompted this meeting. When people disobey the rules problems arise and compound. We sit here, supposedly with the best interests of all Elis at heart.” He didn’t laugh, but stared sternly at the few on the verge of a chuckle. He continued; “I’m not sitting here playing Pollyanna, mind you.
And I have not yet met senility. However, I’m also not wishing to sit here as President, presiding over a dwindling population.
The votes of the masses suggest that they will no longer tolerate a small, safe life. This obviously puts them in jeopardy of becoming targets for deranged, violent Earthlings.
If we strike back with our best weapon, a mutual annihilation is
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the most likely outcome. I’m open to suggestions. DAMN THIS
IDIOTIC FREEDOM.”
Silence was his greeting. He cleared his throat, looked at the other Ministers disdainfully, and said; “Zero. Five zeroes.
Doesn’t anyone have any idea? I won’t hold you to it. Share whatever is in your mind. Maybe it will lead somewhere. If it’s deemed inappropriate, I won’t hold it against you.”
Seth said; “We need more information.”
Zeus fully controlled his urge to say something impolite, and instead asked; “What would be relevant to know that is currently unknown to you?”
Silence. ................ Zeus implored; “If you don’t have a suggested solution, what is your question?”
Silence. .......... Since no one else had anything, tireless old Cronos resurrected his dismissed idea, saying;
“What is wrong with a limited war? We will quickly find out if the Earthlings have any comparable weapons.”
Marshall added; “And if they do we’re ******.”
Zeus said; “I appreciate your courage in saying something when no one else will. But, in addition to the discussion of a limited war we entertained at our last emergency meeting, it seems to me that the concept does not exist in reality.
Whichever side is losing a limited war will make it less limited, and less limited, and less limited, until the finality
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is an all-out war. I, along with Marshall, do not consider this a satisfactory undertaking; literally.” .....................
The continued silence behooved Zeus to add something which he directed at Cronos; “But, I truly appreciate your effort. The others merely cower. Thank you for the thought. Perhaps, I’m asking the impossible; something completely new.”
Brigitte was encouraged by Zeus’ magnanimous approach, and though she didn’t have an inkling as to the solution, she spoke what she thought, saying; “I’ve always been under the impression that there is nothing new under the sun.” .......... She paused, quizzical about what she had just verbalized without regard to long term positioning. In a less than declarative voice she intoned; “But, we’re under a new sun. .............. I don’t know. At the moment I feel as if my lifelong beliefs no longer apply. ........... But, I don’t know what to put in their void.
................. On Eli we lived in peace, but we spent our lives calculating the most efficient way of prolonging an existence spent avoiding risk, only to see that we had done that at the cost of feeling alive.”
Zeus cut her off, but not out of disapproval or poor manners; rather out of a genuine curiosity, saying; “It seems apparent to me that we are all among the living.”
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Brigitte quickly countered; “EXISTING. As throngs of insects mired in the mud; we pretend to ignore that the pinnacle is a high wind.”
Marshall interjected; “I think we’re getting off the practical considerations at hand.”
Zeus said; “Precisely. If practicality was what is required, we would not have had the need to call for this meeting. The solution would be painfully obvious.”
Marshall said; “This doesn’t lead anywhere.”
Zeus countered; “And where does your logic lead?”
Cronos answered for Marshall; “A bailout. A complete, unmitigated call for the safety of deference to the Committee, only because he can’t handle his job.”
Marshall said; “**** you. Just plain and simple **** you.
You’re the ******* that usually calls for these meetings.”
Zeus sought to restore order as he was interested in where Brigitte was going and said; “Please, Brigitte, continue. I don’t want to hear those two.”
Brigitte was quiet and appeared pensive. She shook her head, pursed her lips and said; “I’ve lost my train of thought.
.............. Freedom, whatever that is. Just let it rip. We no longer have a choice, anyway.”
Zeus banged the gavel five times, then said; “LET IT RIP.
MEETING ADJOURNED.”
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As the largesse was ripping, in Dallas, Preacher Al Blunt became successful in convincing his “brother” Police Chief, Malcolm Henderson, that the assault on an Eli was at the very least tantamount to “cruelty to animals,” making the impassioned and compelling case that they were obviously not insects nor fowl. At a press gathering Henderson stated that; “Until this issue works its way through the courts, I have instructed my officers to arrest and detain anyone who attacks an Eli. They will be charged under Statute 47-2012, which basically criminalizes cruelty to animals, and carries possible penalties of six months in jail and a $20,000 fine.” Blunt then took the podium and thanked his “friend” for taking the first of many steps to come in these complicated and difficult times.
Armed with a small victory Blunt left Dallas and paid well-publicized visits to Sunny Eli encampments. He was politely received by those he now considered his new constituents, though the majority remained somewhat reserved, wondering what was in it for him.
In the course of his travels he was informed that on Eli, the dark skinned Sunnies were actually the dominant group. The light skinned Darkies were the disenfranchised. Initially, he considered the possibility of the information being a hoax, but after confirming it with different Eli groupings, he accepted it
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as true. “Strange, but true,” he thought, as he was openly shown the virtual enslavement of the light skinned Sunny Completions.
Their Los Angeles quarters bordered on luxurious, approaching what it was on Eli. They didn’t seek help and yet they were not free to come and go as they pleased.
The good Preacher found the whole thing confusing, in terms of appearance. The organization he had founded twenty years prior was called “People of Color Kept Entirely Tenuous,
”POCKET, and he often joked with seriousness about the pockets of black people being “light.” But, now his imprecise musings attempted to weigh not only black and white, but rich and poor, slave masters and slaves, and even Eli versus Earth. In depressed moments he regretted having gotten involved in the whole messy affair. But, he was in it and didn’t see any way out other than retirement, and he had no intention of doing that at age 52. He reached a solid conclusion. There was no need to attempt to re-invent the wheel. He did what every good executive does when confronted with an insurmountable problem. He cancelled his whirlwind tour before he might say something he would later lament and called for an emergency meeting of his board.
At the meeting, board members made no judgments and requested more information; lots of it. Preacher Al reversed his field, came to a courageous conclusion and said so; “It has
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become abundantly clear to me that what we are about, or what we should be about, is to be the voice for the disenfranchised.
Until advised otherwise, I will consider oppression as oppression, and do what I can to help balance the scales, regardless of the victim’s skin color.”
The momentary silence was broken by a dour, deeply wrinkled black man who almost inaudibly mumbled; “That’s what Martin said just before they killed him.”
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