Orthogonal Procedures

by Adam Rothstein

  "It became a foundation," Parsons said to Thompson. "A way of establishing the appropriate scope of research, with an unspoken notion that all was available, and all was required. It was a way of justifying superlative efforts, and ignoring potential consequences."

  "I don't know if I would call it an establishment," Ross countered. "All of my tools and theories go back to mathematics principles. The work being done was always with science in mind. That is the establishment of Technocracy. The occult is more like a nostalgic dream. Something for people to return to, something comforting, reminding them of the ‘old, wild days,' now lost to bureaucratic history, and built over with Departmental structure. It's what anthropologists might call a myth, or a legend."

  "So," Hopper interjected, "when a government agency is pursuing something big, something they feel necessary to their survival, it is not out of character for them to employ occult terms or ideas. They embody the importance of secret knowledge, and underlie the life-or-death nature of the conflict, in their point of view.

  "And speaking of points of view," she continued, "Mr. Mackey, why don't you share who you saw during our adventure in the Sierras. There is a very direct tie-in to this conversation, I believe."

  The group turned towards him, and he flushed just a bit, straightening his glasses. "I saw Nicholas Roerich, watching the sacrifice. And then he disappeared."

  "Roerich, Roerich—how do I know that name?" Parsons rubbed his chin.

  "He created the Megatherium Club, with Henry Wallace," Hopper answered.

  "Or, reactivated—some say," Ross added.

  "What's the Megatherium Club?" asked Thompson, tentatively.

  "Henry Wallace became Secretary of Commerce in 1940, after President Landon was re-elected," Mackey said, "just as the war was kicking off. He had previously been Secretary of the Agricultural Service, but was promoted after the election. Many say Landon did this to counter the influence of Roosevelt, who was gaining a lot of power after successfully predicting the outbreak of war. The feud between Wallace and Roosevelt that resulted is legendary, of course. But it wasn't until 1944 that Wallace's friend Roerich, a Russian of odd character, joined the Commerce Department."

  Hopper nodded. "That's right. Wallace, for his part, thought that the issue between Roosevelt and Landon was simply a matter of executive politics, and played it as such. When he finally learned about Operation Paperclip, sometime in 1943, he was furious. He took it as a direct affront that Roosevelt would be corralling the best scientific and technological talents in the world, and using them to further his own political power.

  "So when he pulled his old confidant Roerich into Commerce, the direct aim of the Megatherium Club was to counteract the recruiting of Paperclip. Paperclip sought to poach talent not just from the Nazis, but from the URER, and from other agencies of the government as well. Megatherium was a secret society of sorts, looking to do the same thing, only even more secretly. It was the first Orthogonal Procedure, we might say. Roerich was the primary architect of Megatherium, and he was leading it when the feud truly reached its heights in 1944."

  Mackey spoke up. "I knew about Roerich, but I've never heard about the Megatherium Club. I suppose it makes sense that Commerce would want to counter the influence of Roosevelt by nearly any means possible. But Roosevelt died in 1945. Truman became Postmaster, on much closer terms with Commerce than Roosevelt was, and so the feud ended. Wallace continued to serve as Secretary until he departed under a scandal about some of his religious beliefs in 1952. Eisenhower, just elected, replaced him with Sinclair Weeks."

  "You see there," Parsons exclaimed, "it wasn't just ‘religious beliefs.' Wallace was as much of an occultnik as any of them, he just let it slip. That's why he had to go."

  Mackey shrugged, unsure of the full story and perhaps willing to concede the point, but continuing at any rate. "Roerich stayed on board at Commerce, but retreated from the limelight. Technically, his title has remained the same—Director of Bureaucratic Security. But he hasn't been seen in years. And if in fact it was him that I saw, he would be very old. He ought to be ninety-six by now."

  "Well," asked Thompson, suddenly quite focused. "Did you see him? Can you be sure?"

  "I would have sworn it was him. I've seen his photograph many times. And he did look old, indeed. His face was aged, his skin was dry and wrinkled. But his body looked younger, as if he moved with no problems of a man that old. It was getting dark by that point. I only saw him by the light of the flames." Mackey looked at the table, feeling sorry that he didn't get a better look at the man, or better yet give chase.

  "That's quite all right, Mr. Mackey, you did just fine." Hopper pulled one of the files on the table towards her and glanced at it idly before continuing. "The presence of Roerich, or even just the potential presence, introduces a new theory of this conspiracy we are investigating. Thus far, we've only been considering the Department of Commerce and its various agencies as antagonists. But this activity might be more global in scope, involving the Russians, and the Anti-War."

  Thompson shook his head, throwing his arms up in the air. "The occult, Megatheriums, Anti-Wars? What have I gotten myself into?"

  Mackey felt bad for the man. He didn't understand much of what was happening, but he felt at least a few steps ahead of Thompson. And yet, once again, he too didn't know what Hopper was talking about.

  "The Anti-War," Hopper explained, "is not a war exactly, but the unofficial name for the recent period of increasing tensions between the URER and the United States."

  "Space combat," Mackey said aloud, suddenly fitting a piece of the puzzle together.

  "Among other skirmishes." She nodded. "Mostly conducted through proxies, downplayed, or described as accidents. The term is being used to distinguish the evolving status of hostilities, out of the realm of electronic conflict.

  "Since the end of major hostilities in World War Two, the public has come to view electronic conflict as an essentially ‘victimless' form of economic power that can be used to promote the United States' interests abroad. The atomic bomb was one weapon developed during the war, electronic conflict was another. By comparison to the horror unleashed on Berlin, it appears civil and restrained.

  "Electronic conflict, conducted directly or by various proxies, often ends up public—take the currently escalating situation in Southeast Asia, for example. This means of warfare doesn't create much of a scandal, so it is deemed vastly preferable to open war. So the Postal Bureau is allowed to conduct jamming, cable cutting, and other forms of informational sabotage as they see fit. Elected officials and if necessary the UN will occasionally intercede, when it seems as if any particular hotspot might lead to physical blows. Until then, undersea cables are cut, hijacked, reclaimed, hardened, and replaced. Interference and jamming are used in electromagnetic space with increasing regularity, to claim particular parts of the spectrum in certain geographies, and to drive others off of it. Navigation beacons, aeronautical instruments, and other necessities of mail and electronic mail routes are defended against tampering and intrusion, as well as assaulted if they are thought to be vulnerable. It's all part of protecting the Postal Bureau's ability to conduct communications activities around the globe, in order to maintain the premier status of American technology, for the nation's greater interest. The Great Electronic Game, if you will.

  "In the newfound domain of outer space, it was thought that this hard-won status quo of electromagnetic skirmishes would simply continue. However, the United States and other countries, namely the URER, have begun butting heads in orbital space with increasing frequency. The UN currently has no jurisdiction outside of the atmosphere. As the United States and the URER are supposedly allies, there has been little political will to make the conflict public, which might necessitate some sort of political negotiation or UN resolution on outer space, which in turn might result in either side having to withdraw their current claims. So, a
s each side tries to get the upper hand, tensions are increasing. Ever since Sputnik, space has been a battleground. The political, economic, and technological effects of surface or atmospheric conflict would be catastrophic on both countries, and so neither side has brought the fight back down to earth. But casualties in space are mounting, now including not just bandwidth, but physical satellite hardware, and on occasion, human beings."

  "Anti-War is kind of an odd term for it, if people are dying," Ross said, morosely.

  Hopper shrugged. "Unlike some of the other nomenclatures we have, I don't think it was chosen deliberately. It was simply the vernacular term for what wasn't being discussed, for what could never be a war, because war would mean Congress and the President were involved, and the conflict was public. It was a means to describe a Technocratic, Departmental strategy for orbital power projection that would and could not become a war. And then the name stuck."

  "But what does Roerich have to do with Anti-War?" Mackey asked.

  "There are a number of connections." Hopper leaned back in her chair and let her eyes focus on the ceiling while she thought. "First—Roerich has never been a major figure in the feud between Commerce and the Administrations, although he joined Commerce during the height of the feud. He worked for Wallace, not for Commerce. When Wallace left and Roerich stayed, he never showed any vindictive behavior towards the Administrations, or Transportation. He has never led any sort of Orthogonal Procedures against us since then that we've been able to discover. To put it another way, he plays defense, not offense. Therefore, his motivations have always been assumed to be somehow—larger."

  Parsons began nodding his head vigorously, and opened his mouth to speak, but Hopper continued.

  "Second—although we can't say with any assurance what Roerich's motives are, we do know they lean towards the…" Hopper paused, looking at Parsons as if mentally searching for a better word, but finding none, continued, "occult. He has some peculiar notions about the role of human spirituality. He has odd affinities for particular works of culture—art, music, architecture, and the like—and spends a lot of time in the Smithsonian archives and the Library of Congress. Doing what, we can't say. This is not a direct connection to any of the occult activities we have seen in the last couple days. But, we would be wise to remain open to the idea that things are, as Dr. Parsons might say, ‘not always what they seem.'

  "Third—if this is not strictly a matter of Department of Commerce Orthogonal Procedures, then one must at least consider the possibility of the Russians. They are the most likely belligerent force to move against Transportation, after Commerce. And while Commerce seems certainly involved, if we are talking about space as a likely venue for some sort of new weapon or surveillance platform, we would be seriously remiss to not at least consider the URER.

  "And fourth—Roerich is Russian. While he has been predominantly based in the United States since the late 1930s, it is known that he has many ties back in the URER. These are ties that don't necessarily take the form of family or business. The full extent of these ties is unknown. This has never been a problem in the past. But—and I must stress we do not know anything for sure—it is possible that if there was a continued increase in antagonism between the URER and the United States, Roerich's loyalty to our government might be in question."

  "So you're saying," Mackey's mind was reorganizing in light of this new idea, "that this might not be about Commerce moving against Transportation at all, but Roerich using Commerce in a way to make the United States vulnerable to the URER."

  "That is a possibility we'll have to consider," Hopper concluded.

  Ross arranged her printouts and notes in front of her on the table. "So, Roerich is a player. Satellites have been photographing mid-level members of the Technocratic establishment. And there is likely to be some sort of satellite action happening in the next twenty-six hours, but we don't know what kind, or why. And, the URER is aggressive in space." She turned to Hopper. "What is the next step, Assistant Secretary?"

  Hopper folded her hands in front of her. "We absolutely need a better idea of what is happening in order to take action. Until we know the exact nature of the threat, I need you all to stay with me—you are the only ones with knowledge of the situation and your skills may come in handy."

  "So, we're a team then." Parsons nudged Ross. "Just like in the old Mojave days with the strategic weapons section, eh Mary?" She smiled, then turned her attention back to Hopper.

  "There's someone in DC we need to consult with," Hopper continued. "What is the fastest aircraft currently available here at Plant 42?"

  "This consultant, who is he?" Mackey asked.

  "Or she?" Ross corrected.

  "Actually, it's an ‘it.' I'll explain when we arrive." Hopper stood up, and the rest followed suit. "How about that aircraft?"

  Ross considered the question. "We have a trial ballistic transport, but it isn't ready to launch, and would take at least four hours to prep. I think the Skunk Works' PE-70 Valkyrie is the fastest thing ready to fly, if you can cut through the supersonic red tape."

  "Easily done. Also, given there has already been one serious attempt on our lives, I'm arming our small, impromptu group. Ms. Ross, if you would be so kind as to direct everyone to the Weapons Prototype Section, I will meet you there after arranging for the Valkyrie." And with that, Hopper gathered up her paperwork along with her ever-present briefcase, and was out of the lab.

  Ross looked over the rest of them. "Well, I suppose we had better hurry, as I can't imagine she'll take long."

  They followed Ross on a winding course through the Plant 42 facility. Parsons walked alongside Ross, cutting an odd twosome between his tweed jacket and her flight jacket and combat boots. They were reminiscing, catching up about names and places all unfamiliar to Mackey.

  Mackey and Thompson brought up the rear, while Mackey explained a few points of federal history to the Forest Service ranger. Thompson, for his part, was very attentive, listening and nodding, looking Mackey closely in the eyes while he spoke, no matter how strange or convoluted the things Mackey said were.

  Mackey was having a difficult time focusing on his own words, given the labs and test areas they were passing through. It seemed that aeronautics research was not all that was happening at Plant 42. Or at least, the aeronautics research was taking some fairly uncommon forms.

  Through thick glass windows that opened onto their passageway, they looked out into an open hangar space, where a central metal tower was creating some sort of swirling cloud around it. It was not smoke, but looked much thicker and blacker than fog. Lightning flashes lit up the hangar with strobes of bright blue light, causing the four to have to look down at their feet as they walked, averting their eyes from the glare. The thunder rolled through the walls and glass like a deep growling, coupled with another low moaning sound, which Mackey hoped was not the metal beams of the building being torn from their rivets.

  Moving at a decent pace, they departed that strange internal storm through a set of large doors, and were outside, crossing a tarmac in the late afternoon desert heat towards another similarly giant building. In the space between the edifices, centered within a large circular pad of concrete, a massive sculpture of polished chrome spheres stood, hoisted up upon cantilevered frames, slowly orbiting each other, reflecting the red sunlight. Or at least Mackey assumed it was a sculpture. On the surface of the ground, set into the concrete, were wide metal rings surrounding the sculpture in nine giant arcs.

  Mackey wished that he had time to contemplate it, or ask Ross and Parsons what it meant. Even the smallest bits of decoration and the most minor artistic motifs of any Department of Transportation facility were beginning to seem relevant. His curiosity was running at high gear on all this information. He wanted to learn everything, to know as much as he could, and get the widest picture of this world. Mackey was now aware of how much he didn't know, but there were
clues to this hidden information all around. The awareness of new, secret knowledge was like alcohol—it made his mind run faster, insatiable for substance to consume, if more recklessly.

  In the next building, they trooped down a passageway alongside a howling wind tunnel visible through thick test glass, the river of air screaming like a banshee. They could see a small ellipsoid profile suspended in the raging torrent, forged out of what appeared to be a chromed alloy. The silver egg had small arcing stabilizers on the rear end, and as they pushed in and out of the curved surface it maneuvered back and forth in the rush of wind, wobbling spastically, then suddenly holding precise and steady. As it caught this envelope of stability, a haunting hum began to shake through the building and into their feet. Then suddenly it returned to wobbling and the strange vibration ceased.

  Next, they passed through another large open hanga, containing a miniature rocket test stand that drew Parsons' attention at a run before Ross pulled him back by his elbow. He began speaking quickly to her about some sort of booster project, about the tenacity of pressure gradients within micro-jets, or guided rocket nozzles, or something Mackey could not follow.

  On the far end was stacked some sort of folding scaffold of vast geometric shapes that caught Mackey and Thompson's attention. Contorted and angled pipes were collapsed in upon themselves, like the joints of an expanding flower coming out of bud. Currently shut down and compacted, the folded arms of the construction obscured whatever technological purpose such a bizarre tangle of metal might hold. An antenna fixture? An expandable space station module? An aerodynamically evolved windmill? Quiet, it sat abandoned in the hangar like the plaything of some gigantic child. That child, now asleep, was no doubt off somewhere, dreaming of new games to play with its marvelous toy sets, as soon as the next day's sunrise arrived.