We pledge never to say those words. We vow never to change course and draw our weapons. And so, it falls upon you to decide whether to put an end to this brutality and thus honor your conscience… or continue to attack until there is nothing left of our physical existence—or of your moral souls.
We are ready to face the worst. But we are equally prepared, even now, to welcome your best. One path leads to mutual ruin. The other path, however fraught with peril it might seem to you at the start, is the only one that leads to a destination worth reaching.
~ 122 ~
At 8 p.m., the team reassembled in the Oval Office. Whitman sat in an armchair, with VP Nielsen at her side.
“The die is cast, ladies and gentlemen. Now we wait to see how it lands. I have not said this enough over the last many weeks, but I hope you know that I feel fortunate to have had all of you by my side as we navigated this crisis. What happens tomorrow is unknown. Maybe things get worse before they get better. Maybe they only get worse. But we deserve to breathe a sigh of relief for this one moment. And to know that we did our best. Future generations might judge us differently—but if future generations survive to judge us at all, perhaps we will have succeeded at least in part.”
Nielsen spoke next. “There have been many nights, Madam President, where I have thanked my lucky stars that we have you to lead us during this crisis. When your story is told, I believe it will be an inspiration to others. And that sentiment is shared by every one of us. I know that even Strauss here agrees—although he’ll have a hard time admitting it in front of such a big crowd. But I have no problem outing him.”
Everyone chuckled, and Strauss nodded along. “I only ask that you keep this off the record,” he said wryly.
Nielsen continued. “Things might get worse after today, and we might have gotten it all wrong. But there is also another possibility—that what we’ve endured and achieved these last few weeks will be a catalyst for greater progress than humanity was likely to achieve on its previous trajectory. We have gone from fighting one another to standing shoulder to shoulder. We heard the Israelis and Iranians, this evening, refer to each other as brothers in arms and brothers in peace. Who would have seen that statement coming two months ago? We saw the North Koreans and South Koreans table every proposal and every question in one voice. It was just a symbolic show of solidarity, of course, but who knows what more is possible? It’s far too early to tell if any of this will stick, but if the aliens can nudge us toward a more peaceful Middle East, or to a peaceful reunification of the Korean peninsula, they might end up having done more good than harm.”
Kilmer was breathing the sigh of relief that Whitman had recommended, and he was sharing in the hope that Nielsen was expressing.
Then he heard those words—and he tuned out of the conversation entirely.
…reunification of the Korean peninsula.
Kilmer started to search for an answer that he knew was stored somewhere in his mind.
Three kingdoms.
He tried to remember whether Korea had ever been divided into three kingdoms. It sounded vaguely familiar. He conjured up an image of the fourth clue in his mind.
GALWAY4/3Kingdoms/21
It was the second half of the image that grabbed his attention. 3Kingdoms/21. He understood it differently now.
‘Three kingdoms to one.’
Three kingdoms that had been united.
He didn’t want to take out his cell phone in the middle of the meeting, but he couldn’t resist. He was on to something. He took it out of his pocket.
Silla, sitting next to him, gave him a slight nudge. Put it away, Kilmer.
He gave her an apologetic smile. Sorry, just one sec.
Silla turned back toward the conversation. General Allen was speaking now.
Kilmer typed in the search terms, 3 kingdoms of Korea, and hit enter. The results took a fraction of a second to appear. And it took Kilmer less than five seconds to realize that he was on the right track. And then, another thirty seconds later…
How in the world?
Kilmer had figured out exactly what Archidamus had wanted to tell him.
He flashed back to some notes Silla had shown him—the ones that old-Kilmer had written after his first conversation with Archidamus.
I might have a friend on ET-1.
He put his phone away and leaned closer to Silla. Then he whispered in her ear. “If they give us the night off tonight, can I take you out for a drink?”
“Give us the night off?” Silla whispered back. “I’m the only one who ever has to work. You just sit around waiting for me to finish up so I can spend time with you.”
“That rings true, somehow. But can I still take you out for a drink?”
“Yes. Now stop talking and let me pay attention.”
Kilmer smiled. He tried to focus on the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere.
They might have just saved the planet. He had figured out the fourth clue. And he had scored himself a date with an amazing woman.
Things were pretty good.
~ 123 ~
That night, Kilmer and Silla went for a walk. They strolled around a mostly deserted DC for almost two hours, and Silla explained to Kilmer why she had always considered it such a great place to live. Eventually, they stepped into a cozy bar for a drink. Silla ordered a red wine. Kilmer asked for a Guinness. They sat on either side of a long, narrow table in the far corner.
“So, what do you think about DC now? Have I convinced you that it’s a wonderful place to live?”
“You have. But that’s not saying much. If you spent two hours with me anywhere, I’d start thinking it was a wonderful place.”
Silla smiled. “I want to tell you something.”
Kilmer took a sip of his drink. “Okay. I want to tell you something, too. So, who should go first?”
She thought about it. “You go first. What is it?”
“It’s about the fourth clue. I figured it out.”
Silla’s eyes grew wider. “When? Just now?”
“No. When we were in the Oval Office—a few hours ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell us then?”
“I thought I would tell you first. And then you can advise me on whether I should tell the others.”
Silla looked confused as she took a sip of her wine. “Okay. Tell me.”
“Art was right about the first part. Galway is the city in Ireland. And it does refer to the Claddagh, the ring signifying love, loyalty, and friendship. The 3 Kingdoms, it turns out, refers to the three kingdoms of ancient Korea. I probably read about them years ago, but it wasn’t something I would have recalled on my own—until Zack made the comment about the reunification of the Korean peninsula. That’s when it hit me. 3Kingdoms/21 could mean three kingdoms to one.
So, maybe the clue had something to do with love, loyalty, and friendship towards that kingdom, or with how the unification took place, or what happened afterwards—I wasn’t sure what. That’s why I pulled out my phone. Turns out Korea had indeed been three separate kingdoms, for centuries. It was only united, for the first time, in the seventh century CE. Now, here’s where it gets interesting. The largest of the three kingdoms was named Goguryeo, a predecessor to the name Korea itself. The second largest was named Baekje. But it was the smallest of the three kingdoms, it turns out, that eventually unified and ruled the combined entity. And what Archidamus wanted me to know, or remember, or reexamine once I returned, was that third kingdom. Do you know what it was called?”
“I have no idea.”
Kilmer took another sip… and then he took a deep breath. “The third kingdom was named Silla.”
Silla felt the wine glass start to slip from her hands. She tightened her grip just as she caught her breath.
“I don’t understand, Kilmer. How is that possible? How could… you didn’t even write the fourth clue.”
“I know. I have the same questions. And I hope to ask Archidamus about it. But I’m pretty sure I
already know the important part. He wanted me to remember something that he knew I might otherwise forget. And it had nothing to do with war and peace. He did what he did so that I would remember that my love, loyalty, and friendship was for someone named Silla.”
Silla sat quietly, and Kilmer didn’t push her to tell him what she was thinking.
“Kilmer…” she finally said. “You might think you’re telling me something I always knew, but which you happen to have forgotten. But it’s a little more complicated than that. I always knew how I felt about you. And I knew how you looked at me, and how you treated me, and how we were when we were together. But we never put any of those things into words. But there was a moment, just before you left, when you wanted to tell me something. I think it was about how you felt about me. And I didn’t let you. I told you to tell me after you came back. I have regretted that moment ever since. And now…”
She took a deep breath.
“Archidamus didn’t just tell you something you’d forgotten. He helped you tell me something I’d never really known. Those three words don’t hold the same meaning for you today—I understand that. Nor should they. But they still give me a kind of closure that I didn’t think I would ever find. I don’t know how you—or how old-Kilmer, as you call him—managed to get this message to me. But I love him for having done so.”
Kilmer smiled as he took Silla’s hand. “I suddenly feel like the third wheel in my own relationship with you.”
Silla laughed. “Don’t. It’s all a little strange, I know. But let’s put all of that aside. You’re not sharing me with anyone. I’m here with you. Not with new-Kilmer, or you-Kilmer, or whatever it is you call yourself these days. I’m here with Kilmer. The real Kilmer. The one who asked me out on a date.”
They both took a sip—a toast to Silla’s sentiment.
“Okay, your turn,” Kilmer said. “What did you want to tell me? Are you going to tell me what makes me special again? If so, I’m ready.” He closed his eyes and grinned.
“No, I’m not. And you can open your eyes.”
Kilmer obliged, and Silla locked her gaze with his. “It’s along the lines of what I was just saying, actually. I wanted to tell you it no longer bothers me that you don’t remember what happened between us. Not that I had a right for it to bother me earlier, but… it was hard for me. You know that. And… well, it’s not hard anymore.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I’m not sure. But I think it’s because I see things differently now. What they did to you… they erased me out of your mind completely, but they didn’t erase you at all. Not one bit. And maybe that’s all that matters. I don’t believe in fate, Kilmer. I know things could have played out differently, and I might have never seen you again. Even after you returned from ET-1, a lot of events had to conspire for you to return to Triad, and then to DC, and for me to still be involved. I don’t believe even for a second that you and I were destined to meet again.
“But here’s the thing. After you and I did meet again—once we allow for that one piece of good luck—maybe the rest isn’t so crazy. The fact that you and I would start to… well, look at each other the way we do now… maybe that isn’t such a surprise. Because you’re still you. And I’m still me. And maybe once you put us together, maybe there just is such a thing as us. They can erase the memory of us, but they can’t change the fact that you and I, once we’re together, will always make an us.”
Kilmer had been nodding along, smiling, and listening intently as Silla spoke. It had given her the courage to keep saying what was on her mind. But at that moment, just as she finished her thought, she saw all of it disappear. Kilmer was no longer nodding along. No longer listening. No longer holding her hand. And there was no smile on his face. His eyes moved away from hers, as if to look at something off in the distance. Then he closed his eyes tight—so much so that she could see the intensity with which he was concentrating. Almost as if he were in pain. He lowered his head toward the floor, his eyes still closed.
Silla went from worrying about whether she had said something that bothered him, to worrying about his health. “Kilmer, are you—”
His hand shot up, as if signaling for her not to say another word. She stopped mid-sentence, now even more concerned. Her first thought was of the brain injury he had suffered. She grabbed her phone. “I’m going to call a doc—”
“No,” Kilmer whispered urgently. “Please. No.” Then his hands went to his ears, as if he couldn’t stand the noise in the room.
As she waited for Kilmer to explain what was happening, Silla sent a frantic message to Art. She told him that Kilmer did not look well and asked him to send a car to their location.
Kilmer, meanwhile, was focusing his energies on controlling his breath. He knew it was the only way. He had been nodding along, listening intently, right until the very end. That was when he had heard the sound. Or was it a thought that had raced through his mind? Or a memory that had flashed past, ever so briefly? It was fleeting, to be sure, but it had managed to grab his attention, like an urgent tap on the shoulder.
If your gods truly exist, I am sure they will return—no matter what we do.
The statement was undoubtedly a strange one, but not entirely unfamiliar. And there had been a voice behind it, but not one that he recognized.
Kilmer tried desperately to hear the words again, just so that he might figure out where they had come from. And so that he might search for more. He covered his ears and slowed his breathing, trying to shut everything out. He let the phrase return to his mind, on its own terms this time. Slowly, like segments of a dream returning as you allow yourself to fall back asleep.
If your gods truly exist, I am sure they will return—no matter what we do.
Then came a second voice, but this one was intimately familiar.
I don’t know if our gods will come back… but there are some things I can guarantee will return.
Kilmer searched for more—but it was all that he could remember.
…remember
These were memories. But how? He tried to stay in the fragile reverie he had constructed, allowing his mind to wander around in it, keeping it lightly tethered to the words he had just remembered. What else is here?
Then he heard Silla’s voice. The words she had spoken only moments earlier.
They can erase the memory of us, but they can’t change the fact that you and I, once we’re together, will always make an us.
The stranger’s voice. Then his own. And then Silla’s. Only a few dozen words in all, but they had brought along with them something else entirely.
A sense of something. An understanding—albeit detached from any evidence or data. It was something to feel. Something to accept, without question—not based on faith, but on experience. A memory of sorts, but not of any event. And yet… unquestionably real. Undeniable.
Kilmer opened his eyes. He saw that Silla had moved next to him, to his side of the table. Her anxiety began to fade as she saw him recover, but the vestiges of concern remained on her face. He gave her a smile, letting her know he was okay. A tentative smile appeared on her face as well.
He took both of her hands in his own and looked into her eyes.
“What happened, Kilmer? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. And I’m sorry. I knew I was worrying you. But—I had to do that.”
“Do what? What just happened?”
“I’ll explain that in just a moment. But first, I want you to know that I heard what you were saying. Before I turned away from you. I heard every word. And I think you’re right. Maybe there just is such a thing as us. And if there is, it’s not the kind of thing they would be able to take away. What makes us is not our memories; the building blocks are just you and me. And here we are.”
Silla could feel the butterflies in her stomach. She smiled as she lightly bit her lower lip.
Kilmer stared at the vision in front of him. She looked perfectly…
N
o. Not perfectly anything. Just perfect.
Silla’s expression turned more playful. “Is that what you were thinking about all this time? I came up with all of that with a lot less effort.”
Kilmer smiled. “No. That’s not what I was thinking about. It turns out, I do remember something. Something that I thought they had erased. It’s not about the aliens, or about the war. It’s about us. And I was trying to search for more—to see if there was anything else that I could retrieve. But I came back with just the one thing.”
“Kilmer! That’s amazing. What did you remember?”
“The memory… it’s not a specific event, or about something that happened. It’s about a feeling. I’m not even sure whether it’s a memory about a feeling or a feeling about a memory. But whatever it is, I know it’s real.”
Silla bit her lip again, looking just a bit nervous about what he might say. “Just describe it however you can.”
Kilmer smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
Then he pulled her close… and kissed her with the kind of passion that she thought was reserved only for fairy tales.
~ 124 ~
They didn’t even bother to finish their drinks. For the next two hours, Kilmer and Silla did almost nothing but talk. Kilmer still had no specific memories of the time he had spent with her, but what she had meant to him was no longer a mystery—neither in his mind, nor in his heart.
“I don’t know how it works,” he confessed. “But I guess when you love someone, you’re not constantly accessing all of the memories and reasons that make you feel that way. You just love them. There are reasons, but they don’t stay top of mind. They’re somewhere in the background—or maybe they no longer even matter.”
The Peacemaker's Code Page 44
