End of the World

by D Thomas Jewett

  Like everyone, there are a few days in our lives’ that we never forget. On this 'unforgettable' day, she was busily working in her office on a press release for the Senator. Let's see ... I can send this piece to TV, and this piece to the papers, and –

  Just then, she heard a conversation strike up outside her office door. And although they talked softly, the voices bounced sharply off the wood paneled walls, interrupting her train of thought.

  “Did you hear about the closed session in the House?”

  Sheryl stopped working and listened. She could hear what they were saying, but she couldn't tell who was talking.

  “Geez ... no. What about it?”

  “It's just rumor, so far. But the rumor is that they're going to have a closed session of the House – tonight. The word I get is about 9:00 pm.”

  “Do they have these sessions very often?”

  “Not exactly. This will be the fourth time in U.S. History.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah. That's what I was thinking, too.”

  “What are they gonna talk about?”

  “They're keeping it secret. No one will find out until they have the session...”

  “Shit!”

  “... and they all sign an agreement that says they can't divulge anything they learn from the session.”

  “I thought this was the People's House?”

  “Well, it is – at least, 'til it isn't. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah ...”

  Silence.

  She got up from her desk and walked over to the entrance. She looked outside her office; no one was there. Returning to her desk, she looked at her hands. They were shaking. Damn! Why am I scared?

  She sat in thought for a moment, trying to steady her nerves. What the hell is going on? What could drive Congress into a closed-door meeting?

  Her hands still shaking, she reached for the telephone and dialed Mark's number.

  “Mark?”

  “Yeah. What's up?”

  “Meet me for lunch?”

  “Sure. Cafeteria?”

  “No. Let's meet off campus.[15] At the sandwich shop.”

  “Okay.”

  “About 11:30?”

  “Well, that's kinda early. But ... sure. I'll see you then.”

  Click!

  That's one of the things that she really liked about Mark. He was steady, focused; and he never questioned her – never asked why. She smiled and felt relief wash over her. He'll know what to do!

  Sheryl sat at her desk in thought. She went back to work, but she studiously kept her eye on the clock.

  * * *

  Pilgrims Delicatessen did a booming weekday lunch; which is why an early arrival was always a good idea. At 11:30, Mark and Sheryl were standing near the front of the line, waiting to give their order. Had they instead waited until Noon, they would have been standing outside, at the end of a very long line.

  As she waited in the queue, Sheryl noticed a tightness in her neck and shoulders. She wanted to start talking to Mark – here and now. No, she mused, it's too risky. Other people might listen in – and that’s not good. She allowed her gaze to scan the store, unaware of what she was seeing. But the poignant smell of sawdust soon intruded on her consciousness. Damn! I hate the feel of this sawdust grinding under my shoes! They ordered, filled up their drinks, and found a table over in the corner.

  Sheryl felt less inhibited in the relative seclusion of the corner table. And she sensed that Mark also felt that way. Mark smiled as he looked across the table at her. “So, what's goin' on?”

  Sheryl almost whispered. “Did you hear anything about a closed session in the House tonight?”

  Mark frowned. And then he replied, “I heard a bit of rumor around the office. But it didn't sound real, so I blew it off.”

  “Well, I heard a couple of guys talking about it this morning. Mark,” she stroked her glass, “I think it IS real.”

  Mark was dubious. “So what? Even if it’s real, why does it mean anything?”

  “Damn it, Mark. This is a big deal whether you think so or not!” Sheryl was exasperated. “Listen. I heard this is only the fourth time in U.S. history that a session like this has taken place. And –”

  At just that moment, a waitress brought their food. They both nodded to her.

  Mark turned his attention back to Sheryl. “So, assuming this is as big a deal as you think it is, what are they supposed to talk about?”

  “I don't know. No one knows – or at least, no one's tellin'.”

  “So,” Mark continued, “what do you want to do?”

  Sheryl was taken aback by his question. “Ummm, I don't know.”

  Mark was thoughtful. “Tell you what. How about we ask around and see what it's about – we'll compare notes at dinner.” He paused and looked at her. “You WILL have dinner with me, won't you?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. But let's make it an early dinner, okay?”

  “Okay. How about we meet at the Mexican place. It's close by and easy to get to.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  Mark and Sheryl arrived at the Restaurant Mexicana early enough to be seated immediately.

  Mark was so excited he ignored the chips and salsa. “So, what did you find out?”

  “Not a whole lot more,” Sheryl’s eyes were wide, “other than the closed session is real – it’s gonna happen.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m hearing too.”

  “Any word on what they’re gonna talk about?”

  “I couldn’t find out anything about that. Not a peep. How about you?”

  “I heard that it’s some kind of internal thing.”

  “That makes sense. After all, they’re supposed to conduct the People’s business in daylight, and not hide behind closed doors.

  “And boy, are they hiding!” Mark chortled.

  They both paused, letting the import of their conversation sink in.

  Mark's eyes lit up. “Hey, I got an idea!”

  He started whispering as Sheryl listened ... And then they whispered back and forth, becoming even more excited.

  About 5 minutes later, they stood up and hurried out of the restaurant.

  * * *

  “You got everything we need?” Sheryl asked.

  “Yeah. I found this electronics store that had it – a tape recorder and a timer.” Mark took a deep breath, and then he said, “Hell, I didn’t know that cassette tape players still existed; but I tested it out – it works fine.”

  “Great!” Sheryl replied. So long as we don’t get caught!

  “But it only gives us 45 minutes of recording,” Mark continued.

  “I think that’s okay,” Sheryl replied. “The session is only supposed to last an hour.” We may miss some of it; but that’s the way it is, she thought.

  Mark took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  * * *

  It was still early – about 6:00 pm. By virtue of their unrestricted access badges, Mark and Sheryl entered the Rayburn House Office building, making small talk and behaving as though they were going to work for the evening. Once inside, they walked down to the tunnel entrance. The couple entered the tunnel and followed it, finally emerging into the Capitol building. They continued their small talk along the way, still giving an impression of innocent intentions.

  They entered the Capitol on the south side, and as it so happened, this was the side where the House of Representatives chamber was located. They stopped, and Mark began fidgeting with the recorder. He checked that the timer would start the recording at 9:00 pm, and he verified that the power switch was in the correct position.

  “How is it?” Sheryl was concerned. I hope we don't get caught! She thought.

  “It’s ready to go,” Mark said as he smiled. He wrapped the recorder in plain packaging and they continued on. They climbed a stairway to the third floor and approached a nearby gallery entrance. A guard was posted – a middle
-aged government worker dressed in the blue uniform of the Capitol Police.

  He looked at his watch just as Mark and Sheryl approached the entrance. “A bit late to be out and about. Isn't it?” He asked.

  Keeping his cargo under wraps, Mark took the lead. “Oh. We just have a package to deliver to Congressman Connor -- he's on the House floor waiting to give a speech on the virtues of genetically modified crops and how the federal government should promote 'em. We're going to wait for him in the balcony.”

  “What's in the package?”

  “Oh. It's just a recorder, sir. He wanted this so he could record the opposition.”

  “Opposition? Hmm,” the guard shrugged. “Well go ahead. But make sure you tell 'em to have it out of there by 9:00 o'clock tonight.”

  “9:00 o'clock?” Mark asked. “Why's that?”

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing.” The guard shook his head. “Just go ahead and do what you need to do. And forget that I said anything.”

  Mark and Sheryl moved on. “Damn, you were cool,” Sheryl whispered. “How'd you do that?”

  “Clean living,” Mark replied as he continued walking.

  They entered through the north entrance and found themselves on a side gallery; well away from the podium at the front of the chamber. Despite the distance to the podium, they were close enough so they could easily hear the proceedings. They listened as a congressman gave a speech from the podium – he was discussing an obscure energy regulation.

  Mark and Sheryl remained silent, not even a whisper. And they crouched low to the floor as they moved, using the gallery's chairs as concealment.

  They weaved their way amongst the chairs, vigilantly scanning their immediate surroundings as they remained in their crouch. Sheryl was the first to spy a nondescript corner where they could place the recorder. Still in their crouch, they made their way over to the corner. Mark found an obscure nook under a chair; he tucked the recorder into it.

  “Are you sure the microphone will pick it up? Sheryl whispered.

  “Yeah,” Mark whispered back. “I checked it out. It’s real sensitive.”

  “Okay.”

  They turned and quietly retraced their steps out of the gallery and down the stairs to the chamber entrance. The guard was nowhere to be found.

  They continued on, proceeding down to the tunnels. They chose the Rayburn tunnel and retraced their steps, finally emerging into the Rayburn Office building.

  Once there, they breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Will you meet me for breakfast? Cafeteria?” Mark asked.

  “You bet – 7:30 am?”

  “I'll be there.”

  * * *

  At 7:30 am, Sheryl was seated at a cafeteria table sipping coffee. She looked up from the cup and spied Mark walking toward her. He carried a package under his arm as he preened himself like a peacock.

  He reached the table and smiled at her. “Good morning.”

  Her face lit up. “What's under your arm? Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes.” He drew up a chair and scanned their immediate area. “The chamber opens at 7:00 am; so I thought I'd just sneak up there and pick it up.”

  Sheryl’s face was sparkling. “Awesome!”

  Mark had the look of a ten year old boy. “Wanna listen to it?”

  Sheryl looked around, seeing that no one was within earshot. She had chosen well.

  “Yeah,” she replied, “let's see what's on it!”

  Mark produced the recorder and laid it on the table. He pressed the rewind button, and then hit 'stop' at about the half-way mark in the tape.

  He hit the 'play' button.

  “ ... arrangements made for our transportation?”

  “Yes. Plans are already in place for that.”

  “And for our families, Madam Speaker?”

  “Yes.” She shouted. The voices in the chamber were now louder, talking over each other. The Speaker pounded her gavel on the podium. “Order. I shall have order!”

  The loud voices diminished to a chattering of nervousness – of quivering voices.

  She looked at Mark. “Let's rewind to the beginning.”

  Mark nodded and pressed 'stop'. He then pressed the 'rewind' button.

  They waited until the recorder hit the beginning of the tape and stopped. Mark pressed 'play', and they heard the sound of voices talking over each other. And then, the sound of a gavel striking the podium...

  Madam Speaker's voice boomed over the sound system. “Order. Order.”

  The voices in the crowd diminished to background chatter.

  “I call this meeting to order,” boomed the Speaker.

  The chatter receded.

  “We have been informed of certain events that are expected to occur. This meeting is to provide this information to you; and to provide a forum of discussion to address these issues.”

  All chatter on the tape ceased.

  “Now, I will itemize each of the events that we expect will happen:”

  “First. We expect the economy to collapse in the latter part of 2008.”

  The voices in the audience began to rise; becoming louder and more raucous.

  The gavel struck the podium. “Order. I shall have order!”

  The voices in the audience receded.

  “Second. We expect government finances to collapse in 2009.”

  The voices in the audience rose quickly as people shouted over each other.

  The gavel again banged on the podium. The speaker shouted. “Order. I shall have order!” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Order. I shall have order!”

  The audience noise slowly diminished.

  “Order. I shall have order!”

  The noise diminished to a low chatter.

  “Third. We see the possibility of civil war in the United States due to the collapse.”

  The voices in the audience rose quickly to loud and angry yelling – the words: “traitor, treason, hate, killing” were woven into the yelling and shouting.

  The gavel struck the podium. The speaker shouted. “Order. I shall have order!” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Order. I shall have order!”

  The yelling continued.

  Sheryl hit the 'stop' button at this point. “I can't listen anymore. This is all bullshit!”

  “Aw c'mon, Sheryl,” Mark pleaded. “We need to know what's goin' on? Just listen a bit more, will ya?”

  Sheryl leaned back and crossed her arms. She pondered for a moment, and then she nodded her assent. “Okay, Mark,” she said while holding her breath. “Go ahead.”

  Mark hit the 'play' button.

  The gavel struck the podium again. The speaker shouted. “There is more ...” Bang! Bang! “Order. I shall have order!”

  The yelling diminished.

  The speaker shouted. “There is more. But if you cannot restrain yourself, I will have you removed!” Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The voices diminished to chatter.

  “Fourth. There will be advance roundups of insurgents we think are likely to move against the government.”

  The voices became louder.

  The gavel struck the podium again, and the speaker shouted. “Quiet now! Damn it! Let's get through this so that we can field questions!”

  The voices diminished.

  “Fifth. Those who are rounded up will be interned at REX 84[16] detention camps.”

  Mark and Sheryl heard the words “traitor” and “treason” mixed in with the shouting. But then, the voices quieted.

  “Sixth. There is a possibility that some will retaliate against members of Congress believing that we will have caused the collapse.”

  The tape went silent.

  “Seventh. We have arranged for the relocation of Congress and their families to safe quarters during the public unrest.”

  A low murmuring ensued. And then quiet.

  “Eighth. We believe there will be a necessary and unavoidable merger of the United States with Canada and Mexico.”

  The voices again rose in intensity �
� and anger. Many of the voices were shouting “Traitor! Traitor!”

  Mark looked at Sheryl as he bit his lip. “Wow!”

  Sheryl's mind was spinning. This is just too ridiculous, she thought. What a pack of bullshit!

  Sheryl folded her arms as she glared at Mark. “You know this is all bullshit. Don't you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that nothing's gonna happen – that's what. All this talk at last night's session – the end of the USA and all that – It's just fear mongering.”

  “Huh?”

  “Damn it, Mark. It's a pack of lies!” She almost shouted.

  Mark paused. And then asked in his measured voice, “Why do you say that?”

  “Why? Because it's obviously not true. Look around you. The economy is fine. The country is fine. Sure, we have lots of problems – the poor, these damn wars that we're in, the rich are getting richer. But hell, this is no worse than we had ten years ago.”

  “But Sheryl.” Mark replied. “They're not talking about a collapse today. They're talking about it in a few months.”

  “It can't happen, Mark. It won't happen!” Sheryl felt like she folded into herself. “The economy is fine!” She looked across the table at Mark, and then her eyes welled up with tears.

  “Isn't it?” She asked, simply.

  With that last small question, Sheryl ran out of the cafeteria.

  Chapter 4 – September, 2008

  Lori shouted over the pandemonium on the trading floor. “Oh no! Not again!” She glanced over at Tim and then back to her computer.

  “What's up?” Tim looked at her and saw a grimace on her face. “Hey!” He shouted. “What's goin' on?”

  “Stocks are sliding,” she shouted as she turned back to her keyboard. “This looks a lot like what happened to Bear.”

  “You mean a flood of short sales?”

  “Yeah. Looks just like it – except on a much larger scale.” She was still typing at her keyboard.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It's not good. I've seen, maybe, a half dozen stocks hammered today. They're all companies that are under stress with the sub prime mortgages; so, you'd expect them to have some problems. But they’ve been getting hit really hard – in spurts.”