by Matt Rogers
Chapter 42.
Nuclear war was at hand. The only question remaining was who would be first to cross the line and let the machines take over.
“Hello, everyone, this is Nick Price with a Channel Five News Special Interruption. We have terrible events to report. Both China and Russia have teamed up together and are threatening to attack the American homeland if the United States does not release the communist Cuban dictator and relinquish control of the islands. We are going live to Wally Thornburg who is on the scene at the United Nations. Wally, are you there?”
The reporter who was winning the minds if not the hearts of viewers everywhere appeared.
“I’m standing right here, Nick!”
The scene changed and a confused anchorman appeared.
“Okay, Wally, what do you have to tell us on the breaking developments?”
A shift of picture revealed Wally removing a flask from his mouth.
“Okay, all-righty! You see, we’ve got a whole bunch of countries who seem to think a whole bunch of other countries are on their land or something like that” he said, nodding once and saying nothing else.
The control room wasn’t sure if they were waiting for a little more input or if the southern anchorman and reporter from the northern territories were playing their digital version of the Ping-Pong question-and-answer game. When nobody said anything the room decided it wise to push along.
The anchorman who would never be national raised his eyebrows in mild surprise at the interruption of his ‘me’ time.
“Oh! Um, thank you very much Wally. Do you have anything else to report?”
No one wanted to move but the ball crossed the net so they kept it in view and Wally reappeared once again with a silver flask raised to his lips.
“Ahh, err, nope. That’s all I got, Nick!”
The control room decided to slide away from the inebriated reporter with a heart of gold and liver on life-support to again show the man who’d won acclaim North-Texas wide as the top anchorman in a market not known for its educational embrace.
“What?... Was that it?” the anchorman was heard to say right before realizing he was, once again, back on-air to pose a question to someone somewhere who might have a bit more understanding of the particular troubles brewing throughout the world.
“Okay, once again, thank you very much for your insight, Wally.”
Someone forgot to push something and from off-screen Wally’s voice could be heard.
“Yer welcome, you overblown Gila lizard!”
Nick Price froze for a fraction of an instant, regained his composure and searched desperately for something on the teleprompter to inform him of what was next. Thankfully, he didn’t worry long for right then, like a hero of old arriving in the nick of time a phone call was received in the control booth and an immediate transmission was sent to tell the newsman what to say.
“We are now going live to Tim Tidbit who is on special assignment at the United Nations with a developing story. Tim, are you there?”
The screen shifted and indeed the newsman who would set the world straight was standing in front of the camera waiting to shock the viewer’s senses.
“Yes, Nick, I’m here” the reporter replied but the way he said the words were a bit off, a bit far-away, as though he were there and not there at the same time. The anchorman, sensing the young up-and-comer’s consternation immediately leapt at the chance to whack the mole causing him face-time loss.
“Tim, please report what you’ve learned.”
The reporter who would anchor the Earth in real time knowledge seemed to make a decision and when his eyes adjusted his persona came to life.
“Nick, what we have just witnessed here at the United Nations is something no one saw coming. It is of such wide and amazing importance I’m afraid I’m at a loss for words to explain the situation.”
The anchorman seized the noose to pull it tighter around the upstart’s neck.
“You can’t tell us what you’ve witnessed, Tim?”
“No, Nick.”
The anchorman saw his chance to cement his place in history as the permanent newsman of North-Texas when he was suddenly interrupted by the youth who wanted his job.
“But we have footage of the event.”
The scene shifted to when last Tim Tidbit had been seen interviewing the security counselor, Nat Hallowed. As the camera recorded, he’d asked his question of what advice the man would give to the United Nation and while everyone waited to hear the words of wisdom from a complete stranger who held secret meetings with other strangers controlling their lives a phone rang. The man named Nat abruptly grabbed for the device and held a brief conversation. When it ended everything else began.
“Mr. Hallowed, if I may have your answer to the question?” Tim was heard to say while the camera recorded the other man’s reactions when things took on otherworldly appearances.
The place was still a madhouse, everyone screaming and posturing for support when the Alien decided while he could not interfere in Superior business he was in no way constrained when it came to Inferior enterprises.
The camera captured it all. On screen, in front of a future world-wide audience who would view the clip millions of times he changed. It was not a subtle one. Where once a normal Human stood there grew an Alien of enormous proportions. He was as the others reported seeing with a big head, green skin, large black eyes but there the similarities ended. Where before a creature of normal stature was reported now loomed one over fifty feet in height.
“STOP!” a voice rang out.
It wasn’t necessary, for the audience was of a stunned nature. No in attendance could believe what they were viewing in front of their very eyes.
The odd part, other than the fifty-foot tall thing, was the reaction of the representatives once the initial shock wore off because no one ran away. The Alien, for it could be nothing else, did not seem to hold any malice. Its voice had boomed throughout the audience but its eyes, the windows to its soul were anything but menacing. They were, in fact, quite serene.
“THERE WILL BE NO WAR!” the non-jolly green giant said.
Everyone remained as they were. People were looking around to see if they’d lost their minds but when they noticed others doing the same they realized everyone was witnessing the identical event.
The Alien who monitored the world swept his head back and forth as if to find anyone opposed to his ideas. When no one uttered a word he paused, took a deep breath and continued.
“EVERYONE WILL GO HOME! THE BOUNDARIES WILL RETURN TO THEIR PREVIOUS AREAS BEFORE ALL THIS NONSENSE BEGAN!”
Again he scanned the crowd to look for antagonists. Finding none he decided the time was ripe for action.
“GO!”
And everyone fled the room in terror for his appearance altered slightly and what was soothing to the subconscious one second became terrifying the next. For decades the footage would be reviewed to determine exactly what it was which changed the minds of those in attendance. They would later learn visual input could be a means of transmitting emotional impulse. On the spectrum there were wavelengths which were invisible to the eye but not the brain. Stimulation could be manipulated, neurons teased to fire and what one saw was not necessarily what one thought. With the room cleared Nat returned his attention to the two beings he had decided not to emotionally scar; Tim Tidbit and the cameraman recording the action. The final scene was the Alien regaining life-size form and staring into the lens.
The scene shifted to the anchorman who sat speechless, mouth slightly open in astonishment for he realized the truth; Tim Tidbit was unstoppable. Sadly, for the watching eyes and listening ears of the audience the image of an anchorman unable to respond to such mind-blowing scenery was unacceptable. The reaction was swift and Nick Price, anchorman to the greater Dallas-Fort Worth communities and companion of the widow presiding over the largest barbeque franchise in the city bearing her dead husband’s name would soon be forgotten. He wou
ld bear witness and maintain some solace in the fact he was, at least, a part of the process which gave the world the last remaining hope of intelligent journalism, Tim ‘Telling-It-Like-It-Is’ Tidbit, but he would never again know the joy and excitement of revealing through teleprompter the events shaping the world.
“Nick?” a voice said into the newsman’s ear.
“Yes?” he finally replied in a soft whisper.
“Um, we kind of need you to say something.”
Nick wasn’t sure what to say. He’d just witnessed the end of his career and was wondering what he was going to do with his life. He wasn’t even sure if the barbeque queen would keep him in her graces if he found himself unemployed. It wasn’t like he loved her but he did love the torn and rendered flesh of her establishments. He already couldn’t afford the overpriced meals of cow-leftovers which, for some ungodly reason, were valued higher than seafood in restaurants located so far from the ocean they could never truthfully call their fare ‘fresh’. Everything was going through his mind at the same time which was causing everything else to lock up.
“Nick? Seriously, man, we need you to say something”
He was desperate. He needed help but couldn’t think of anyone to provide it for him. He searched the room but found only cameramen and microphone holders doing their jobs of pointing things at him. He was in trouble of having his last program end with him sitting there in shock and awe when he finally remembered a lifeline. Maybe, just maybe, he could turn it all around.
“Um, sorry everyone. I… uh… was listening to the control room and they have informed me Tim has some further developments on the story.”
“No we didn’t!” the control booth yelled in his ear.
“We now go back, live, to Tim Tidbit at the United Nations.”
The control room had no choice, the anchor had spoken so they answered in kind and the picture switched to show the young reporter responsible for it all standing there at the ready as though he expected to be called upon.
“Thank you, Nick, and ‘yes’ I do have a further development.”
An intern in the control room saw an opportunity and ran with it by pushing a little used button which split the screen. On the viewer’s monitor Nick Price and Tim Tidbit were seen side by side.
“What do you have, Tim?” the anchorman said in a shaky voice bordering on hysteria.
“I have an interview with the Alien, Nick.”
As Tim answered the image of Nat Hallowed appeared, standing next to the lad in limelight while on the opposite side the anchorman of the past was breaking down in tears as dreams of smoked brisket went wafting out of reach.
“Mr. Hallowed, thank you agreeing to this interview.”
“You’re welcome, Tim.”
The first question was always the hardest for it set the tone and made a statement. Would it be hard-hitting or a soft-ball? Would the questioner be in charge or answer to the questionee? All of those thoughts ran through the combined minds of the control booth button-pushers who had no answers for they were not schooled in the fine art of pondering. They didn’t know how to state a sentence in such a way where a response was required.
“Mr. Hallowed, what should we call you?”
They were amazed at the youth’s amazing talent of knowing precisely how to start an investigative story of such remarkable consequence.
“Call me Nat.”
They stood as one and cheered as the Alien was forced to exit his shell and answer the reporter from their channel.
“Okay, Nat, can you please tell us who you are?”
Everyone sat back down because standing placed them farther away from their buttons and they felt a bit naked without them.
“Yes, I am from Heaven.”
Mouths dropped everywhere as people did a quick inventory. It wasn’t something widely reported but across the nation two words rang out so clear the seismologists listening for signs of earthquakes saw a sharp spike in their readings.
“Oh crap!”
Many, if not everyone had the same idea. An idea they somewhat recalled from their youth. An idea rather unsettling for they had not thought it would happen. If true, then things were not looking good.
“Are you the Messiah? Is this the beginning of the Apocalypse?” Tim asked.
Nobody was certain of their fate for to be sinless meant living without sin which took a lot of fun out of life so most dropped to their knees in prayer.
“No, Tim, I am not the Messiah.”
And jumped to their feet with joy.
“Thank God!”
People broke out in dance and song at the great news of the Messiah not yet returning to issue judgment.
“But you’re from Heaven?” Tim asked as he recovered his breath after learning he still had time to visit a church and beg forgiveness for the thousands of sins he had done the previous week.
“Yes, I’m from Heaven. It’s a planet, Tim, not the afterlife as you would know it.”
Tim wasn’t sure how to respond to such an amazing assertion so he asked the first thing which popped into his head.
“Why are you here?”
Nat had been anticipating the question ever since he’d decided to reveal himself in order to stop the foolish beings from annihilating the world and ending Heaven’s grand experiment.
“Because a great battle is looming on your horizon. Another species has lain claim to your world and are on their way to lay waste to what you own.”
The dancing and singing stopped.
“Excuse me? Did you just say we are going to be invaded by aliens?”
The world hushed for they were wondering the same thing.
“Yes.”
Recording devices on Greenland captured world-wide opinion.
“Son of a…!”
The control booth was sitting on their hands for no one felt they could control pushing, pulling or twisting in times of turmoil.
“Do these aliens have a name?”
“Yes, they are called the Hoard. They are creatures of Hellion designed to destroy what you have built.”
The reference did not go unnoticed and the control booth was relieved the reporter also caught the linkage.
“Hellion? As in Hell?”
“Yes.”
Everyone was in a questioning mode but only one was present. Fortunately, he had a good set of ears and basically repeated word for word what the enormous audience was querying.
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
Nat looked at the youth and answered with all the sincerity he could muster.
“No.”
And the world answered back.
“Gulp!”
