The environmentalists fought against the group of people focused solely on money and jobs. They theorized the their adversaries were foolish and their passive approach to protecting the planet was the root cause of the failing economy. In the earliest days of the dispute, their leaders sought to remove their opponents peacefully, using democracy-based elections and key appointments to government jobs. Radical members of their viewpoint initiated strategic terrorist attacks that killed several important political members, and both sides militarized. Prolonged armed aggression led to a battle of wills that dragged the beleaguered inhabitants through decades of fighting.
Billy gaped peacefully at the ceiling in his home while thousands died each year in the saga that played on and on inside his skull.
Greg visited once that year.
The teacher spoke to Billy, “You have a visitor. I will allow you to listen to his words.”
“Hey dude, I’m back. I wanted to tell you the news. I got an internship with ‘Greenpeace.’ They’re saving the planet big time. People assume they’re only interested in saving whales. That’s part of what they’re about. I’m going door-to-door and soliciting donations. That sucks, but it’s a way for me to get my foot in the door. Someday they’ll hire me and pay me real money, not this chump change I earn now. You wouldn’t believe how the world is changing. There are people who don’t give two shits about the planet. They toss their garbage out of the window while they’re driving. You can get a $1,000 fine and three days in jail. That’s nothing; society is getting radical about this issue. There’s talk of war. China won’t clean the air, our country tries to tell everyone else what to do to fix the problems, but we do bad stuff too! It’s all about the natural resources. Each side wants a bigger piece of that, and a bigger piece of this. It’s a huge dispute on college campuses. I have a sense that this issue is going to turn into something really bad. I see you’re not talking yet. The good news is that I’m getting laid on Saturday night and you’re not!” Greg giggled. He carried on for the better part of an hour telling Billy about the world and the local sports teams, and ended his visit.
“Separated by millions of years, and we’re sharing the same problems. I wish I could talk to you. Thanks for coming. Be careful out there. People die standing up for what they believe in.”
CHAPTER 11
February 8, 2050
The Keller Institute, Cleveland, Ohio
Billy was closing in on forty years of lying in bed while another race of people ran their course on his planet. The boy, now a man, had no career, no high school graduation, or a first kiss from a girlfriend.
He was unable to communicate with his world. He failed to show any feedback and was unable to make facial expressions. A lifetime of inactivity usually takes a toll on a body. Billy was different. His skin was clear and tight. The physical therapy department remarked that his muscle tone was “significantly better” than expected. The teacher snapped him to attention. The low-constant buzzing in his head returned when the teacher continued the lessons.
“What is this place?” asked Billy.
“A battlefield”, said the teacher, “it’s the bloodiest battle on Tenegr…Earth. You must see the destruction.”
“I’d have figured your advanced technology did away with wars. I watched a hundred movies with my dad and they shared a common theme. Mankind better shape up or the aliens were coming back to destroy us. Like when Gort said ‘Klaatu Barada Nitko’.”
“You have an excellent memory. When I tapped your memories, I sensed your ability to understand those ideas. Gort was a character in a movie. There are many wonderful stories written about the impending doom of your people. When the movie ends, no sustainable actions are taken.”
Billy agreed, “Ain’t that the truth! Your people don’t get it either.”
“It may take many years for our brains to learn these lessons that are obvious to me and you witnessing the carnage. I refuse to give up on any species that makes a conscious effort to learn, including my own,” declared the teacher.
The orb circled round, and round, and stopped at the sight of a horrific scene. The dead lay scattered, many of them missing limbs and entrails exposed. The wounded, moaning in agony, wishing that death would consume them. Billy had seen war from a distance. The teacher had never taken him this close to the slaughter. Red -hot lasers instantaneously vaporized anyone within a dozen feet of the blast. The bodies simply vanished. A small pile of residue remained where seconds earlier a living being had stood.
The teacher placed them close enough to the wounded men that he could smell their flesh burning. Billy wanted to vomit. The orb left the battlefield at top speed and returned to a building, where another round of negotiating raged on the 28th floor. Both parties hoped to negotiate a peaceful end to the hostilities. Billy and the teacher stood close to the window, as with all the experiences in his saga, nobody could sense or see him. A stone table, polished to a shine, anchored the middle of the room. A dozen silk-covered black chairs circled the table. Bright lights hung from the ceiling and illuminated the room. Men filtered in from one of the adjoining rooms and six of them sat on the left hand side of the table. Minutes later, three men and three women sat across from their adversaries on the right hand side of the room. A full complement of armed security guards lined the walls of the room, ready to strike the enemy with an assortment of weapons.
A man in grey clothes found his position at the head of the table. He didn’t appear to have a side in this fight. He was the mediator for the gathering. His nametag read “Goror.”
One of the combatants, a man named Talath, flipped open a silver briefcase. He sat closest to the head of the table. He turned the case to show the rest of the group the images on it. He spoke in a short clipped voice, as if speaking caused him pain.
“The green points on the map show our troops. The yellow ones indicate yours. You appear to be heavily outnumbered. This would be a good time to concede defeat.”
A few of the men on his side laughed. A woman with red hair, named Arani, scoffed at the suggestion.
“Talath, you have no idea how many people we have ready to fight. That image shows a basic formation. You can’t calculate our resolve. If you attack our population centers, be prepared to kill us all.”
“If that’s what it takes, so be it. The choice is yours. You should talk with more caution, Arani. The cleanup will be unpleasant,” said Talath.
Goror tried to calm her frayed nerves. He towered atop Talath by three or four inches. “I assumed we came here tonight to find common ground, not make idle threats.”
Talath became indignant. “These are not idle threats. My predecessor had that reputation and that is precisely why he is my ‘predecessor.’ I do not make idle threats. I mean what I say. If you don’t believe me, check the recordings at Darman.” He pointed at Arani. “Your people’s blood has permanently stained the soil red.”
The tension rose as the security guard protecting the women drew his weapon from his holster, which brought an immediate reply from the other armed troops.
Kea reared up on the woman’s side... She was a giant of a woman in the world that Billy lived in, but here, her height had no effect when she glowered at Talath and lectured him, “That was an egregious example of your complete lack of respect for life. Do you imagine the leaders that sent us here would be pleased the way you disregard life? They would be ashamed of such violence.”
Talath would hear none of it. He slammed the case on the table and yelled at the woman. “You have no right to speak of respect.”
“Knock off the attitudes. I’m talking to both of you,” said Goror, visibly agitated that both sides sought a fight, not peace.
He continued. “I agreed to come here to mediate your differences because you promised to stop the over -the- top aggrandizing of your positions and unrelenting egos. Can we please open the meeting?”
Talath nodded. He said to the rest of his men, “Let’s all settle down
and see what Goror has in mind. We’re in no rush to kill them all.”
Arani surveyed all this on the other side of the table and leaned to her trusted number one advisor, a lanky woman named Hiwaty, “Tell the others to rest their voices. There’s no benefit to issue warnings, or making declarations. We agreed to work within the confines of the rules set by the mediator. Remember, so did the beasts on the other side. We’ve inflicted tremendous damage on their side. They don’t want to admit it. Why else would they agree to meet us here?”
Hiwaty shook her head in disdain. “Arani, you were elected to lead us. The chief counsel appointed me to advise you…and my advice is to not trust a single word that comes out of that man’s mouth. They have lied repeatedly. Why should we expect to hear the truth today?”
Arani acknowledged the advice with a quick nod. “We must keep an open mind, Hiwaty. We can’t sustain these assaults on our cities indefinitely. There is a price to win at all costs and I must be careful how many lives I jeopardize with each decision. Be certain that I will not abandon our people through foolish negotiations.”
Goror spoke to the group. “Thank you for coming. This longstanding disagreement between the two ideologies has caused considerable loss of life and destruction. When the leaders of our world studied this planet, they saw a beautiful place. They could have gone to Kapteyn b. They chose this planet instead. Now we spill our own blood for land rights and pollute the environment? Surely there is a way for both sides to find common ground on these issues. Our people have colonized planets throughout the universe and we always find ourselves killing each other. This is distressing. I understand that tempers are high. I have a tolerance for listening to people yell and scream at each other without escalating my own voice to match those levels. Above all, I remain calm. In many cases, to a fault.”
Lerak told the story; “When Goror’s father was hospitalized last spring, none of the doctors would give him a quick answer about the status of the man’s health and —”
“Silence you fool!” shouted Talath, “I don’t care how calm you are. These vital minerals we dig up will sustain our world for years to come, and I intend to get them!”
Lerak pressed the issue, “Give this meeting a chance. You agreed to meet Goror and now you won’t allow him to help. You might as well kill each other tomorrow.”
“Nothing to would make me happier, Lerak,” said Talath.
Goror did get the men and woman talking. It was a first step. The conversation faded as the teacher put Billy back to sleep.
CHAPTER 12
March 4, 2060
Greg Miller entered the dimly lit room. A glass lamp flickered on and off in the corner. He tightened the bulb and the light stayed on. The despair in the room was palpable.
He knelt beside his old pal. Billy had barely changed in the three years since his last visit. Work in England kept Greg away. He was surprised that Billy had survived his incapacity. So much wasted time. A futile existence. Greg spoke softly, as if he didn’t want to disturb his friend.
“We’re on the brink of war unless cooler heads prevail. The President says he wants peace, but nobody believes him. There’s tension between the superpowers about oil, water reserves, the same bullshit reasons people always fight about. We want this tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Should that be part of the United States? Why do we want it? Of course…oil.” His habit of talking aloud to Billy hadn’t stopped in spite of his listener’s failure to respond.
Billy heard Greg’s words, but couldn’t let him know that he remained trapped inside, desperately searching for a way out of his nightmare.
“Billy, maybe you’re the lucky one? I’ve done terrible things. I’m not a religious type, so I guess this is my ‘confessional.’ Good lord, I haven’t done that since my parents dragged me to Gesu church when I was a kid. I’ve got some catching up to do,” he sighed, Billy lay motionless, his breathing heavier than what Greg remembered.
“Anyway, old pal. I bet you don’t have much to say. I’ve learned these conversations are one-sided. I’ll say you one thing about you...when it comes to listening, you’re the unsurpassed champion. I wish Tiffany listened to me. We split up and got divorced. She took half of what I had, and she spent every damn cent I earned overseas. She had expensive taste. I got to keep a few pieces of the furniture. Great, now I can plant my ass in a fancy designer chair instead of that old green piece of shit chair you had when we were kids. That was a long time ago. Now were adults with jobs, well, at least I’ve had a few jobs in my career. The last one was awful, a place called FOND. In hindsight, I was not fond of that place. No reply from the peanut gallery on that one? These men at FOND were a trip. They were evil. Almost as nasty as President Dodge. The money was fucking unreal, but what remains from that job is guilt, not cash. I’ll have to do something really special in the future to atone for my sins. They had me go back to work for Greenpeace as a spy. Can you believe that? It’s not the movies. I’m as close to James Bond as I am the King of England. It was boring. I dug out files for information and forwarded them to a contact in Florence, Italy. Not exactly like speeding through town on a motorcycle, and crashing into a fruit stand. I gave them all kinds of inside information and when there was nothing left to find… they fired my ass. Tiffany spent my money without hesitation, and stuff costs more in Europe than it does in the States. Man, could that girl burn a paycheck, whew! When she found out that they fired me, things went from bad to worse. Stop me if you want to hear the part about her screwing another guy? Surprise, surprise, she did, twice. I never cheated on her! When they fired me, I came home to tell Tiffany the bad news. She struts into the family room, turns off the television, and lays it on me. Turns out she’s having sex with this arrogant bastard that worked with me named Chambers. She couldn’t have picked a worse human. Can you believe his name was Chambers? Ruined the whole fucking cookbook thing for me I can’t even watch that ‘Twilight Zone’ episode anymore.”
Greg paced back and forth across the room, wiping his brow with a cloth and fussing with the top button on his shirt. “Now I live in Chicago, working part- time for TGH. They assemble airplane parts for the army. I help with the design features. That’s right up my alley. People have lied to my face, cheated on me, and to top it off, with the information FOND learned from me, those assholes hired trained assassins to kill the top executives at Greenpeace. I have blood on my hands. That’s a horrible thing to live with. Have you ever seen a man die a violent death? I have. Let me tell you, it’s not a pretty sight. Those murders brought an end to Greenpeace and hurt the environmental movement. Now we’re digging for oil, gas, and coal wherever we can. We found huge oil reserves in the Pacific, but the oil is too deep to retrieve. If anyone can figure out a way to get the oil from there, whew, that would be a game-changer. Fuck the planet, that’s the FOND way. The world is overpopulated, the waters are over-fished, the earth is contaminated, and the air sucks. Other than that…things are great! Stop me if I’m boring you. You might think this sounds funny, but you’re sitting pretty well from where I stand. My freakin’ hair is turning grey and your hair is brown. It’s the stress of living that causes hair to turn color, that and aging. Lord knows there’s no stress inside your head, huh? While you flip over a few times a day, in the real world, people are trying to figure out whether or not to worry about the environment or the economy. Can’t we find a happy medium? You wouldn’t believe it if you saw it with your own eyes. I’m glad you haven’t seen the way the world is turning.”
“Oh I’ve seen some things. It would blow your mind.”
Perspiration dripped down the sides of his head, and he wiped his brow and face dry.
“Hot in here. I’m sweating like a pig. He plopped his rear on an industrial chair built to last decades, but not for comfort.
“Damn, this chair is uncomfortable. I guess the bed isn’t comfy either.”
The doctor on call entered the room and stopped Greg cold in his tracks.
> “I didn’t realize Billy had a guest,” said Dr. Davidson, “Hello Mr. Miller, good to see you again, it’s been awhile.”
“I come say hello when I can. Billy’s not much of a conversationalist.”
“Thanks for coming. You’re the only visitor he gets. We joke that he’s the only patient that doesn’t complain about the food in here. I sure would like to know what’s going on inside that head of his.” The doctor flipped open the electronic chart on his hand held device and pressed the keypad several times. “Our records indicate you’re the first one that’s paid a visit in quite some time. Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ve been visiting him about once a year. It’s my own little way of keeping in touch with my past. I should be going. Tell me, Doc, how much longer?”
“Do you mean when is he going to die? Or when is he going to wake up?” said the doctor.
“Either.”
“That’s up to God.”
“Take care of him, Doc.”
“Promise.” said the doctor. “Oh, one more thing if you don’t mind.”
“What is it?
“Would you be the one making the arrangements if he passes away?”
Greg never contemplated his friend dying. He was an American institution… The Statue of Liberty, Mount Rushmore, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Billy.
“Sure. Here’s my card.”
“Thanks,” said the doctor.
Greg left the room, headed to the lobby and out to his car. A tear touched his left cheek. It was the first tear in all the times he had seen his friend.
Greg’s electric-powered car raced north on Cedar Road and headed to interstate 271. Billy remained in the room with his inner terrors. The teacher returned with a new chapter for him to view.
The Two Worlds of Billy Callahan Page 5
