Orthogonal Procedures

by Adam Rothstein

  "I told you, we're never doing that again."

  "It's nothing like that, no summoning, I promise. Just a quick clarity spell. It will be over before you know it. No demons, no lightning, no portals this time, I promise."

  She pushed back from the chair and sat inside the circle on the ground. Parsons was scribbling characters in the blood on the outside of the circle, some sort of symbols that looked to Mackey a lot like overlapping triangles. When he finished, Parsons grabbed a handful of paper and shredded it into the metal inbox he had placed on the ground in front of Ross. Then he took a seat opposite her.

  "Does anyone have a sword?"

  They looked at him.

  "Well, I suppose a knife would do."

  "Sergeant!" Hopper called to a Postal Inspector nearby. "Your knife, on the double." He delivered it to the Assistant Secretary, who handed it to Parsons. He held it aloft, pointed it to the four cardinal directions of the circular room, and then pointed downward. The paper in the inbox burst into flame.

  "Just close your eyes, Mary. Everyone, close your eyes."

  They did so. Mackey wanted to see what would happen, but he was too worried about getting in the way, somehow doing something wrong. He had absolutely no faith that this would work, but at the same time, he wanted it to. There was no time, and they were out of ideas. This had to work, as there simply wasn't anything else.

  Parsons began to chant in a language that Mackey had never heard, squeezing sloth blood and saliva from his hands into the fire. He could smell the smoke of the burning paper wafting through the room.

  "I feel our sloth friend with us still," Parsons said. "He will help you. Follow the beast across the sky. He joins the constellations of his ancestors. His animal gods, which they worship, not unlike us. And those angels will deliver the address on a flaming arrow."

  Mackey could taste the acrid smoke curling into his nostrils, but at the same time, he felt calm. He imagined the sloth as Parsons had described it. A thick jungle, in another time, another climate. Trees with lush, wide leaves, fruit and flowers dripping from the foliage. In the distance, a snow-peaked mountain. And through the trees, a group of humans, digging in the earth. Planting something? No—burying something. Something important. A plan set in motion now, for the good of the future . . .

  "Enough, enough now." Ross stood up, brushing off her hands, waking Mackey and the rest from their impromptu daydream. "I know what to do." Parsons' eyes trailed her, satisfied, as she sat back at the console, leaving Parsons alone in the center of the blood circle, as the paper smoldered into ash in the tray.

  Hopper smiled. "Go for it, Mary. Burn them."

  Ross was busy typing commands into the console. She looked back at the Assistant Secretary, who nodded once, her hat impeccably on her head as ever. Ross hit the "run" key.

  A red warning light jumped into place on the large command screen as the sine wave orbital path began rapidly changing shape. Then another warning, then another, and another. The screen flashed red as blood, message texts running into and over each other on the screen, as the alerts surpassed their ability to be understood. Klaxon horns wailed, echoing throughout the mountain.

  "That's it, then?" Hopper asked.

  "That's it."

  "You didn't?" Mackey asked, unbelievingly. "You deorbited all of the Commerce Department's satellites?"

  "Not all of them," Ross said, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair. "Just all the ones that could be accessed from this console. Just over two hundred."

  "NOAA won't be able to issue weather reports," said Tikhonov. "Fish and Wildlife biological tracking, USGS climate studies, all of it will be set back by years. I can't believe it."

  "Worse has happened," Hopper said. "And worse would have, if the entire transportation system of the United States had come to a grinding halt."

  "Assistant Secretary," one of the Inspectors interrupted. "There is an older gentleman who has just arrived outside by aircraft. He says he is expected. We have him secured, but he insists on speaking with you."

  "Come," she said to the group. "Let's get out of this mountain."

  ☆

  As they exited the tunnel, dusk was well underway. Looking up, they saw points of light streaking across the sky, white lines curving through the atmosphere as they dropped to earth. Thin hairs of brilliant starlight, quickly replaced by wisping brown trails of smoke, condensing into light paths of moisture that hung pink in the sun retreating over the eclipsed edge of the planet. They watched the artificial meteor shower, as the majority of the satellite constellation of an entire Federal Department burned up on re-entry. Across the continent, the daily activities of millions of government employees were vaporizing in the friction of the earth's thick atmosphere.

  Mackey thought of the white grid from the inside of the helmets in the astral projection tanks. He felt light, as if his feet were weightless, his body suspended in the cool mountain air like a clear liquid. He thought about all the data, all the electronic components, all the technology on board those satellites that was being consumed. It was countless hours of effort on the part of so many people. And yet, down here on earth, factories were currently churning out more of the same. That new technology, forever condensing from the technological systems of the nation, would soon rise, like clouds after the falling rain, to replace those human-manufactured stars that had fallen to earth.

  "Make a wish," Parsons mused.

  The old man was surrounded by Inspectors, all holding their weapons tightly.

  "It's all right," Hopper said. "Give him some room to breathe."

  Nicholas Roerich did not look exceptionally happy, but still managed to stand casually. "Assistant Secretary!" he called. "Thank you so much for your assistance in this matter."

  "Assistance," she said, not so much questioning as repeating his word.

  "Yes, of course. Rogue elements within Commerce, conducting this terrible, terroristic scheme. With help from foreign agents, if I'm not mistaken. I would have been here in time to stop them, naturally. But I am so glad that they could not put anything so nefarious past the Secretary and yourself. Alertness has always been one of your most outstanding qualities."

  Mackey moved forward, about to say something, but Parsons grabbed his arm. "Time to let the executives chat it out, Fred," he whispered.

  "Nicholas, I have to say this was quite a bit of an inconvenience." Hopper tilted her head ever so slightly.

  "A very gracious favor to give up your time, both on your part, and that of the Transportation Secretary, and that of your talented experts here." Roerich smiled, his entire face breaking into sharp wrinkles. "Consider it a return of the favor for that time with the National Airspace Transit Bureau, and the case of the UFO sightings in Texas—I was not there, but I am sure you remember, of course."

  "Of course."

  "Well! In that case, you may withdraw your Inspectors, and my security team will handle things from here. I'll call them by the VHF in my aircraft. Our satellite communications seem to be down just now."

  "That's a shame. My apologies." Hopper signaled to the Inspector in command, and the troops hustled to their aircraft and began loading up.

  Roerich took a step towards Hopper and extended his hand. She shook it. "Lovely to meet you as well, Grace. Until next time. I suppose the Postmaster will keep the pig for now."

  They parted. Hopper turned without speaking and headed towards the aircraft at her usual rate of speed. Her team followed, and Roerich returned to his aircraft.

  "That's it? And it's just over like that? Swept under the rug!" Mackey said, awestruck. "What about Major Briggs? What about the sacrifice on the hill, the hovercraft crews, the Inspectors killed by the sloths, the—all the . . ."

  "That's how it works, my friend," said Parsons. "No one wants the mess to get bigger, because next time, everyone could be standing o
n the opposite side. So back into the shadows it goes, until the next time things go Orthogonal. The occult must remain occult. Or else, of course, it would not be."

  Mackey couldn't believe it, but at the same time, he could. It was stalemate, and always would be. This was how they managed to keep it secret, throughout the years. No one would ever win. No ideology would ever triumph, as long as the sides were evenly matched. Mackey looked around for Tikhonov, to see what he made of all this. But he was gone.

  "Where is Evgeny?" They all looked around. "When was the last time anyone saw him?"

  "I don't think he ever came out of the mountain," said Ross. "He was behind me while we were walking, but then he just wasn't there."

  "Don't worry about Tikhonov!" Hopper called back. "I'm sure he has places to be. As do we!" She gestured at the aircraft, and they hustled to follow her on board.

  As they took their seats, Mackey remembered another question, in a long line of questions. "What did Roerich mean," he asked Ross and Parsons, "by saying the Postmaster will keep the pig?"

  Ross nodded. "It's old executive branch lore. About the rivalry between Wallace and Roosevelt. They had a figurine of a pig which they traded back and forth. Like a college mascot stolen by a rival school—some sort of East Coast fraternity boy game. It became a metaphor for the feud."

  "It wasn't a literal pig," Parsons interjected. "It is a massive crystal, found beneath the earth. They called it the Pig. It belonged to Roosevelt, but Wallace wanted it. They argued over it. Now the Secretary of Transportation has it, so we have the upper hand, but—"

  "Mackey!" Hopper approached as the aircraft was lifting off, its four propellers pulling it off the earth and into the darkening sky. "This is for you."

  She handed him a small ring, set with a dark black stone. She showed her hand, and on her finger was the same ring. Parsons and Ross showed their hands, also with identical rings. Mackey put his on his finger. Engraved into the stone were the initials OTC.

  "Welcome to the Order of the Technological Crystal." Parsons smiled, pumping his hand. "You're one of us now."

  "It doesn't stand for that," Ross said dismissively. "It's Office of Technological Countenance. Top Secret, naturally, perpetually Orthogonal."

  Parsons began to argue with her, but Mackey shut his eyes, listening to the engines roar as the wings tilted horizontal and the Postal Bureau aircraft lifted off into the night.

  Author's Invocation

  This novel is fictional. But many of the persons, places, and events mentioned are based on reality, or in some cases, absolutely real.

  The saying goes that truth is stranger than fiction. I'm not certain of that, but I do believe that truth inspires the most interesting fiction. The history of the United States government over the course of the 20th century is one of the most convoluted, complex, mysterious, and still-often-secret epics we have. It is also a series of stories that directly affect the present-day lives of American citizens, and all those lives the American empire touches, perhaps as much as anything can be said to directly affect the lives of human beings today. I could write a work of history to argue this point, but there are many good ones already written. So I'll try a different tack. And so I present to you a story tangential to history.

  This is a story inspired by the way that the United States government works, and has worked over the last one hundred years. It is not so much a story of a different United States government in a fictional timeline as it is the story of our actual government told through the contemporary language of rumor, drama, analogy, conspiracy, and speculation. In this story, you will meet actual members of the pantheon of American government—but wearing masks, disguises, clad in ghostly apparel, channeling fantastical possibilities normally concealed behind the cosmological plane. Within these pages, I declare a holiday from the bounds of reality, of fact, of authoritative history. With my usurper's authority as author, I direct that for the span of this tale, all real characters shall appear in new guises, with obscured countenances and a dramatic mission, as if we still celebrated the wild, chthonic religious carnival of old. May we slip on our Erismann inversion goggles, so that the world may be turned upside down, as the nature of our eyes' lenses dictates, in order to see with new eyes for a brief time.

  All festivals are temporary, and that is their power. When this festival comes to an end, the spirits evaporate, the magic ceases, and cosmology of history returns to its daily business. However—when this play is over, remember that although the conjurers have departed and the masks are put away, those gods invoked within the sacred theater still roam invisible.

  If you are interested, here is a list of names. Every name on the list existed once, in real life. You may invoke them according to your own will, because that is both the right and the curse of those who find themselves on the cusp of history we call the present.

  May those who have come before us be the lights along a path to a better future than the present that they gave us.

  If you are curious about the actual history that inspired this book, let these names start your search.

  Grace Hopper

  Mary G. Ross

  Jack Parsons

  Nicholas Roerich

  Werner Von Braun

  Theodore Vail

  Franklin Roosevelt

  Henry Wallace

  Alf Landon

  James Webb

  Roy Johnson

  Charles Walcott

  Joseph Weizenbaum

  Wendy Carlos

  Charlotte May Pierstorff

  Summa Corporation

  Megatherium Club

  The Explorers Club

  The American Miscellaneous Society

  Project Mohole

  Project Azorian

  Scientology, re: Operation Snow White

  Operation Paperclip

  Manhattan Project

  Spear of Destiny

  Szilárd petition

  The Great Game

  Project Sanguine

  Stargate Project

  Project MKUltra

  First Earth Battalion

  ARPANET

  ELF (Extremely Low Frequency)

  Bell Labs

  Greenbelt, Maryland

  Mount Weather

  Ames Research Center

  Vandenberg Air Force Base

  San Fernando Valley Superfund Sites

  Santa Susana Field Laboratory

  Plant 42

  Skunk Works

  Fairbanks Highway Research Center

  Marine Corps Air Station Miramar

  Ryan Aeronautical

  Area 51

  Pykrete

  Sputnik

  High Virgo

  Saturn rocket family

  The Apollo Missions

  IBM S/360

  BAL (programming language)

  COBOL

  FORTRAN

  RS-232

  Celestial Navigation

  Keyhole Satellites

  KH-1 Corona

  KH-11 Kennen/Crystals

  PRT (Personal Rapid Transit)

  AGT (Automated Guideway Transit)

  Ithacus VTVL Ballistic Troop Transport

  MGM-1 Matador Missile

  Objective Individual Combat Weapon

  MK285 smart grenades

  XM25 CDTE System

  Exacto self-guided bullets

  ELIZA

  Air Mail Scandals

  Teapot Dome Scandals

  The Baltimore Freeway Revolt

  California Aqueduct

  Outer Space Treaty

  United States Resettlement Administration

  Works Progress Administration

  National Recovery Administration

  United
States Post Office Department (now the United States Postal Service)

  The Census Office

  Weather Bureau (now the National Weather Service)

  The United States Geological Survey

  General Land Office (now the Bureau of Land Management)

  Reclamation Service (now the Bureau of Reclamation)

  National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (now National Aeronautics and Space Administration)

  United States Railroad Administration (World War One era)

  Federal Radio Commission (now the Federal Communication Commission)

  The Bureau of Air Commerce (now the Federal Aviation Administration)

  Advanced Research Projects Agency (now Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency)

  National Reconnaissance Office

  The Smithsonian Institution

  The United States Patent and Trademark Office

  The National Bureau of Standards (now the National Institute of Standards and Technology)

  The Indian Affairs Office (now the Bureau of Indian Affairs)

  The Forest Service

  The National Parks Service

  The Fish and Wildlife Service

  The Department of Commerce and Labor (now two separate departments)

  The Department of the Interior

  The Agricultural Division (now its own department)

  The Department of Transportation

  Bell-22 VTOL Aircraft

  Sikorsky S-64 Skycrane Helicopter

  Vought XF8U-3 Crusader III Fighter Aircraft

  F-82 Double Mustang

  XB-70 Valkyrie Supersonic Bomber

  LTV XC-142 VTOL Aircraft

  B-58 Supersonic Bomber

  F-111 Fighter-Bomber

  Firefly/Firebee drone family

  . . . and other things we don't know about yet or aren't allowed to say . . .

  About the Author

  Adam Rothstein is a writer and theorist on tactical and strategic uses of technology, focusing on historical deployment and social effects. He's keen on the Future Weird, and has been spotted experimenting with radio waves, media waves, and the rift between institutional and insurgent technological approaches.