ODIN'S WAR

A Flower Garden

E lucevan le stele, ed olezzava la terra stridea l’uscio dell’orto, e un passo sfiorava la rena.

Entrava ella, fragrante,

mi cadea fra le braccia…….. L’ora e fuggita

e muoio disperato!

E non ho amato mai tanto la vita!

tanto la vita! From Puccini, TOSCA

Jeremy sat in an old but comfortable chair in the center of the room. There were papers lying on the floor, a few computer printouts, and various pencils scattered here and there. There was a large collection of staggered bookshelves on the back wall. The appearance of the room was not important, though the seclusion was. Besides, Jeremy’s blindness prevented any visual distraction. He always came to this room when he did not want to be disturbed. This time, however, he had instructed a particular person to enter if anything should happen. He sat motionless with his hands clasped in front of him on his lap.

Then the door in front of him opened, letting in light from the hall for those who needed it.

“Jeremy,” a soft, feminine voice came from the door way. “I have the news you asked me to bring.”

“Yes, Deena?” Jeremy did not move, though inside he was trembling. “James has reported.”

“And?”

“They have complete control of the ICCE complex. The mission is completely successful.”

Jeremy received the news in silence. His fears were immediately gone, but he did not know how to control his joy. His only expression seemed to be an empty one. A few moments passed by before Deena took a couple of steps into the room and bent down to look into his face.

“Jeremy?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

He held his face in his hands. Deena put her dark hand on his shoulder, knowing that tears were rolling down his face. Jeremy stood up quickly and embraced her slender gentle form with his massive, old body. They stood together a long time in the dim light.

Eventually, Jeremy collected himself and stepped back from the girl. He smiled broadly. “Take me quickly to the garden, Deena,” he said in an exited tone.

“Certainly,” she replied. “here, take my arm.” The two walked side by side through a back corridor which would around to an uninhabited part of the underground complex, primarily used for storage of old equipment. Passing through the first larger room, they entered a small room by way of a door on the far side. The room was, indeed, made into a little garden, with a special sun lamp devised and installed by James at the ceiling so the plants could grow.

Jeremy had ordered it put in a few years before, when he could still see. There was a walkway through the center, and another perpendicular to it about two thirds of the way to the far wall, forming a cross. The four quadrants were composed of simple but rich earth where a number of green plants were growing thickly. Flowers of many shapes and colors stuck their petaled heads up out of the green jungle to cheer the atmosphere. Jeremy and Deena walked to the intersection of the two walks, where they stopped.

“Are the plants doing well?” asked Jeremy.

“Yes,” replied Deena, “Very much so.”

“And the flowers have blossomed?”

“Oh, yes, they have! Can’t you smell them? “Deena said a little excitedly.

Jeremy smiled broadly. “Yes, I can. I can even smell the green plants. And the earth.” They stood in silence for a moment before Jeremy spoke again. “You care for these plants, Deena. Do you like them?”

“I love them, Jeremy. They are so beautiful.”

“But don’t you love those pictures you hang on your wall more?” asked Jeremy. “Oh, no, not at all. Don’t be so silly. That’s different. They don’t do anything. They don’t need anything, like the plants.”

“But what if I break one?” Jeremy knelt, and reaching out into the garden, felt for a stem, which he broke. It was a small delicate white flower. He held it to his nose. “I have hurt it. In fact, this part of it can no longer live. Is it not the same as the pictures now?”

“No,” said Deena “It is still a flower, and alive.”

“But it will be dead. Then it will be the same as the pictures on your wall. Pretty but lifeless. Will it not?”

Deena paused. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“No Deena, it is not, and never will be. It is a flower because it is alive and it’s the Real flower that once lived. It will always be alive in a sense because it was once one of those,” Jeremy pointed out into the .warden, where there were numerous colors of flowers, roses, daffodils and the like. “and those,” he continued, “will be soon like this one,” he held the flower up. “They share the beauty of life and death.”

“Are we like the flowers?” Deena asked.

“No,” said Jeremy, “We are much more. When one of us dies we have lost a fellow. Sometimes a close friend. But God cares for both the living and the dead, in a far greater way than we do for flowers.” The two were quiet in the garden for several minutes, reflecting on the smells and atmosphere of the little garden. After a while, however, a sense of urgency began to flow in Jeremy’s blood as he thought of the things which were sure to follow the success of MUSIC. He held out his arm for Deena to take, and she led him back through the complex. This time they went to the control room, where Jeremy advised the technicians to contact Kerenyi. Soon the young Slavic voice came on over the P A system.

“Kerenyi reporting to headquarters. As I reported earlier, all is in order, and the mission has been completely successful. I am still awaiting further orders.”

Jeremy picked up a small mike. “Is Blake Williams with you?”

“Yes,” said Kerenyi “though he seems to be away at the moment.”

“Is Marie Hollow there?” Jeremy asked next.

“Ah, no again. She seems to have slipped away for minute as well.”

“I see,” said Jeremy, “I think perhaps it’s a little early for celebrating. There is still much to do. We need to announce the formation of our new government, as we had planned.”

“Yes” responded Kerenyi. “That is true.”

“Also,” continued Jeremy, “We need to reprogram the computer systems at ICCE, and notify the Australian network of our new legitimatized government.”

“Yes,” said Kerenyi. “James is in the main computer control room now.

We will read the prepared message over the communications system, and broadcast it to the surrounding population blocks.”

“Very good,” said Jeremy. “I’ll be here and supervise over the radio. In the meantime, find Blake and Marie and have them report to me.” In a brightly lit room far from the revolution which had just taken place at the I.C.C.E. complex, a large and burly man was looking into a control panel, wherein was lodged a small cathode ray tube screen. The man had an immense upper body, so that he resembled a mound more than a man as he bent over the controls and read the green letters as they marched across the screen. “The ICCE complex is entirely taken over. Rebels, believed to be ancient remnants of an outlawed group of Umms, have murdered Spurion, captured his archangels, and imprisoned his troops. Traitor identified as flake Williams, former captain of ICCE’s stun force. Further information to follow in fifteen minutes. ...”

Baspierre switched off the screen, and turned his back to the control board. He looked about the control room, filled with computer panels, video screens, and an assorted array of signal lights. In contrast to the rather sophisticated appearance of the room, Baspierre wore a large, thick, grey fur robe, and a gold skull cap rested just above his dark eyes. A long waving mustache stood out from his face and a neatly trimmed black beard hung close to his chin. “The dogs have ruined it all now,” he muttered to himself, “I knew Spurion was losing his mind and his control! He should have spoken to me before the last meeting of the Board of Angelic Harmony. I could have helped him for a fair price. Now these vermin have infected half the world.”

He turned to a computer technician who was busy at the controls, fearfully attempting to ignore the murmuring of his master lest he be noticed. “You, there, Miguel,” said Baspierre, raising his voice. “Call the Archangels to a meeting at room 516. I want them all to be there in a half an hour. or less.” Baspierre strode out of the room in a gait far more graceful than would be expected from a man of his size. He wound his way down the corridors musing to himself, trying to think of what he should do and how he should act. If it were true that these were Umms who had overthrown Spurion, the situation would be very grave indeed. The stun war may cease. Worse, a war to the death may ensue. Baspierre was no less determined to keep his power secure in the Australian complex than Spurion had been in, and compromise was highly unlikely, since the philosophy of the Umms was wholly opposed to dictatorships or a theocratic state. They had already proven that they were willing to die for their cause, something quite unheard of among the heavenly men. The future frightened Baspierre. These random thoughts brought a cruel blaze to his intelligent eyes. He felt the need for aggression, brought on by his intense fear; yet he was not mad, and so restrained himself several minutes. Later he sat in room 516, awaiting the arrival of his archangels. He and Spurion had carefully planned the day of death, and the construction of the sister complexes which were to survive the horrors of a nuclear holocaust. His careful manipulation of a peace conference had put the majority of the fears held by the Soviet Union to rest, as the United States had become weak willed and misled by a ‘well meaning’ president. However, neither side had been aware of the immense power and money in the control of Baspierre and Spurion. They had their own space shuttle, several orbiting satellites, and even the ability to bribe several top level scientists on both sides of the Atlantic. The resulting holocaust was unexpected from either side, and both sides were destroyed. However, Baspierre and Spurion were fully prepared, having built their complexes a few years before, and through the careful manipulation of key people in the government, managed to limit the holocaust to the northern hemisphere. The fall out filtered gradually south, destroying all plant life, and ultimately, most animal life. A few made it to the complexes, where, in perfect control, Spurion, and Baspierre imposed their law upon them.

They had been almost gods. No one had argued with their theory of the heavenly men and the archangels, except a few renegades which Spurion, it was thought, had destroyed; but apparently it was not so. Though some viciousness had existed between Baspierre and Spurion, they had always understood each other. Neither could overthrow the other, ultimately, since the masses needed the stun warfare, and a dual system, to vent their rage, passions, and philosophies. Men always sought out an enemy and so it had been best that the enemy was easily bargained with and in agreement on fundamental issues. Now that was not the case.

Shortly a pair of archangels, dressed appropriately in their long white, robes and white caps, entered the room, bowed deeply to their master, and took their seats. Gradually more followed, until all nine, including Baspierre, were present.