A Future History of the United States

The next few days were busy, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred. There was an undercurrent of tension in the city, but no open display of opposition to Tim or his priests and bishops. Word had spread that something special was going to happen during the Sunday church service. People seemed to be waiting to see just what that might be.

Saturday seemed to arrive all too soon for Tim. No suitable candidates for priest had been found. He was considering elevating some of his priests to the position of bishop, but that would leave more churches in need of a priest. The headaches of administering a Church District were more varied than he had anticipated.

In addition to these problems, he had the upcoming mission to Washington, D.C. to think about. His role was critical, but there were so many things that could go wrong.

What if one of the Archbishops was actually an informant for the Prelate? That possibility gave him nightmares. Any leak of their plan to the Prelate, or his loyal supporters, could result in a change in how the devices controlling admission to the White House were set. If that happened, he would not survive to tell anyone about it.

There was also the possibility that guards might be nearby when they arrived at the gate. Ron’s assurance that the guards only came to the gate when some unauthorized person tried to gain entry was comforting; but things could always go wrong. Some beggarmight think he could get a handout and put his hand in the control box. That would bring the guards running.

Even though Titus almost never left the White House grounds, that might be the time he decided to visit one of the District Cathedrals. He might even be planning to conduct the services at the Washington National Cathedral Sunday morning. In that case he could have some trusted priests or bishops with him at the White House Saturday night.

Ron and Luke had tried to account for many possible difficulties, but there could always be that one event they had not considered. As Tim pondered this idea, he was reminded of a quote attributed to some military leader of the twentieth century, “The best battle plan never survives the first contact with the enemy.” That thought left him even more concerned.

Shortly before noon on Saturday, Luke knocked on the door to Tim’s office. Sticking his head in, he announced, “It’s time to go.”

Stopping by his apartment, he informed Martha and Will that he would be gone at least overnight again. Martha gave him a withering look, “It better be just overnight!” His response was, “Believe me, I completely agree with you!” He was gone before she could make any further reply.

Luke led the way to the Tube station. Once seated in the capsule he advised, “When I tell you to, take a deep breath and tighten your stomach and leg muscles. The acceleration will last longer this time and I don’t want you to pass out for lack of oxygen to your brain.”

Tim replied, “Come on now. You’re just trying to scare me. It can’t be that bad.”

Luke’s expression was firm. “Just do as I tell you!”

Tim saw Luke reach for some buttons off to his right side. He sensed the capsule beginning to move when Luke called out, “Take that breath, NOW!” Something about Luke’s voice caused Tim to automatically obey. Just then the capsule shot forward with tremendous acceleration. It seemed to go on forever.

Just as Tim felt he was about to black out, the force eased enough for him to take another breath. By the time he had recovered enough to speak, it seemed as if all motion had stopped. The only thing he could think of to ask was, “What happened?”

Luke smiled at him, “We just started on our way to Washington.”

“But it wasn’t like that on my trips to Dallas or Miami,” Tim protested. “Are you sure something didn’t go wrong.”

“Those trips were leisurely. There was more than enough time to take one of the slower Tubes. This time we are in a hurry. We still have some things to take care of before tonight’s big show. Ron notified me this morning he wants us there pronto.”

Tim felt fear begin to churn his stomach. “Has something gone wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” Luke assured him. “Somehow he managed to get a recent picture of Titus. He wants to make sure you look as much like your twin as possible when you confront him. The shock value of looking at himself walking through the door to the Oval Office should stun him enough to give plenty of time to get him under control before he can react and reach any hidden alarms he may have had installed.”

This did nothing to really ease Tim’s concerns. The possibility of a hidden alarm was one thing he had not considered while trying to think of things that might go wrong. “Do you think he has some alarms like that?” Tim’s voice was quivering.

“We don’t know. That’s why we are taking care to gimmick the gate so the guards can’t get it open after we get in. If he should manage to summon them, they will have to come over the wall.”

Tim was even less reassured by this remark. “That shouldn’t be too hard for them.”

“Harder than you think,” Luke replied. “The wall is ten meters high and only twenty centimeters wide at the top. All along the top broken glass has been imbedded in cement and then it is topped with another two meters of razor wire.”

“I didn’t realize we were trying to break into a fortress,” Tim said. “I thought it was just a fancier version of the Archbishop’s compounds.”

“Fortress is right,” Luke paused for a few moments. “In the last century the exterior walls of the house have been reinforced with two meters of super strength concrete. To provide some natural light to the inside there are openings through this concrete that are offset from the windows so nothing can reach the windows on a direct line. The roof has been reinforced with both a thick layer of steel plates and the same concrete as the walls. It is probably the most highly fortified building on the planet.

“Remember Tim, we are not going to break in. We are simply going to walk in. If everything goes according to plan, no one other than Titus will even know we are in there until tomorrow morning. We have a busy night ahead of us. Try to get some sleep.” With this he closed his eyes. Tim soon heard him snoring.

In spite of his fears, Tim was also soon sleeping. The gentle, almost undetectable motion of the capsule, and the comfort of his seat, provided the first dreamless sleep of the week.

Upon arrival in Washington, Ron escorted them to a room in the National Cathedral. In the center of the room was a barber’s chair. On various shelves were items Tim could not identify. Projected on the wall was a picture of Titus II dressed in his Prelate’s robe.

“Get out of that Archbishop’s robe and have a seat, Tim. Your makeup artist will be here soon. He tells me this will take some time, but assures me he will have you looking just like that,” Ron pointed to the picture, “In plenty of time for our mission. We’ll have you some dinner here in a few minutes. You should have time to eat before he gets started on you.”

Almost before Ron finished speaking, one of the other Archbishops walked in with a tray filled with food. Ron moved a table next to the chair where Tim was sitting, “Help yourself. Luke and I will be eating in the dining room while you are undergoing your makeover.”

Just as Tim finished eating, a man wearing a paint stained smock entered the room. Looking first at the picture on the wall, then at Tim he remarked, “This will be easy. I seldom get to work with someone who already looks a lot like the person they are to imitate. I usually have to change the nose or ears. Sometimes I have to fill out the cheeks or make the chin different. With you, all I need to do is correct your hair, make your skin a little paler, change the lips a little bit, trim the eyebrows, get rid of a few of your wrinkles, and make some tiny adjustments here and there.”

“That’s all?” Tim’s voice indicated he thought that was plenty.

“That’s all,” The man replied. “You should see what I have to work with sometimes. You just wouldn’t believe what they ask me to do. Sometimes I have to tell them there is just no way. They’ll have to find another model for me to work with.” He was already mixing various liquids and powders as he spoke. “Now you just relax. Close your eyes, but don’t go to sleep on me. Your face changes so much when you sleep it ruins the effect when you wake up.”

For Tim the process seemed to take forever. The makeup artist kept up a constant stream of chatter the entire time he was working. He complained about the materials he had to work with, the lighting in the work areas, the time of day he frequently was called upon, etc., etc., etc.

Finally he said, “All done. Take a look.” He aimed a small instrument at Tim’s face. A second image appeared on the wall beside the one of Titus. The Prelate’s robe Titus was wearing was the only difference in the two images. It took Tim a little while to realize the second image was his.

Some signal must have been given, for just at that time the door opened to admit Ron and Luke. Luke was carrying a bundle. “Hurry up and put this on so we can get going.”

Tim opened the bundle. As he expected it contained a Prelate’s robe identical to the one Titus was wearing in his picture.

Working almost as if in a trance; he quickly donned the robe, and then looked back at the picture of Titus. Once again a second picture appeared beside the first. They were identical. Without allowing himself time to think, he said, “Let’s go.”

Ron led the way to the church office. They were met by the other six Archbishops, already dressed in their finery. They had their hoods in place and pulled forward enough so that their faces were hidden in shadow.

Ron stood looking at them for a few moments. Suddenly he stepped forward, stopped beside the second one from his left, reached up, and pulled the hood from his head. The face revealed was one that Tim had not seen before.

“Bind this man!” Ron ordered. “Make sure he is secured and will not be able to squirm loose. I should have him tied so that any struggle will make him choke himself to death, but that would be too easy of a way out for him.”

The Archbishops on each side of the fake Archbishop had grabbed him as soon as his face had been revealed. Ron looked at him and demanded, “Where is the Archbishop of Washington?”

The man spat in Ron’s face and snarled, “You’ll never find him!”

“He wants to be stubborn,” Ron said. “Tie his arms behind his back, tie his feet together, and loop a rope from his wrists to his ankles. Once that is done tie a strong cord around his genitals and loop it around his wrists. If he struggles he will make a eunuch of himself. We’ll find out just how much he values his silence.

“Once you have him secured, carry him into the passageway. Someone will be there in a few minutes to take care of him. They can also try to find Archbishop Edward.”

“Well, that cost us some valuable time,” Ron stated. “We need to hurry now. We can’t take the time to search for Edward ourselves. We will just have to operate with a Supreme Court minus one member.”

As they left the room Tim asked Ron, “How did you know he was an imposter? They all looked just alike in their robes.”

“When you’ve been around someone as much as I’ve been around Edward, you get to know their little mannerisms. Edward would have never folded his hands in front of him the way that man did. In the world I’ve lived in for the past few years, little things like that can mean the difference between life and death!”

Luke led them through another portal and onto a moving walkway. It ended at a flight of stairs that, to Tim’s surprise, led to an unoccupied guard shack on the outside of the wall surrounding the White House. The shack was only large enough for two people. Anyone watching would have questioned their sanity when eight men exited it in single file.

It was only a matter of a few paces to the main entry gate. On a post beside the gate was a simple looking box. Saying a silent prayer, Tim stuck his hand in the box and placed it palm down on a cool surface. He felt a slight prick at the base of his thumb. Tim stood in this position for what seemed like an eternity. Luke later told him it was only about ten seconds.

Slowly and silently the gate began to move, sliding into a recess in the wall. Swiftly the other seven passed through the now open gate. Once they were all safely inside Tim pulled his hand out and stepped in with them. The gate closed silently behind them.

Ron stepped back to the gate, bent down, and placed something on the gate near the bottom. Tim could not tell what it was but as Ron stood up he told Tim in a soft whisper, “That will keep the gate from opening until we remove it. Only you, Luke, or I can unlock it. It’s keyed to our fingerprints.”

With this taken care of they proceeded up the stairs to the front door. Ron took something from his pocket and held it near the door. Carefully he moved his hand around the entire perimeter of the door. Examining the item in his hand he said, “It’s safe. No alarms detected.” With that he grasped the handle and opened the door.

Tim was thinking, an unlocked door in a building that’s supposed to be secure doesn’t make sense. Then he looked back at the wall surrounding the area. An unlocked door didn’t seem so strange when you considered the unlikely possibility of some unwanted visitor intruding. The thought almost made him laugh. That is exactly what we are he thought, unwanted visitors.

A nearly full moon had provided light up to this point. The interior of the building looked completely dark. Reaching into his robe again Ron extracted several pairs of bulky looking eyeglasses. Handing a pair to Luke and each of the other Archbishops, he explained in a whisper, “These will help you see better and avoid bumping into things while we make our way to the Oval Office.” Turning to Tim he said, “You don’t get any because we want Titus to get a good look at you as soon as you step into the room. Pull you hood back so your head is fully exposed.”

With Luke holding Tim’s hand to guide him, all eight made their way silently through the house. Finally, Tim spotted a faint strip of light emerging from the bottom of a door. With Luke’s help he found a box similar to the one by the gate.

Placing his hand on the cool bottom of the box, he again felt the slight prick at the base of his thumb. After a few seconds he heard a slight click as the door unlocked.

Ron whispered in Tim’s ear, “Show time,” and pushed the door open with a hard shove. The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang. Tim stepped through into a fully lighted room.

Titus had been seated at his desk. When the door opened suddenly he sprang to his feet and cried out, “Who’s there?”

As Titus’ eyes focused on him Tim said, “It’s me, Titus. I’ve come to inform you of the fate that awaits you.”

Titus fainted.