by J. W. Huemme
“Hello?” His mother’s voice never sounded so good to him.
“Hello, Mom. Listen, I decided to move up my vacation time a little.”
“When will you be coming then?” Mary asked.
“Actually I’m on my way there right now. I decided to drive for a change, instead of fly. I’m still about six or seven hours away, so I thought I had better give you a call so I didn’t startle you when I came in.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Sure, everything’s fine, Mom. It’s going to be late when I get there, so don’t wait up.”
He knew better, but still said it anyway. He would find his mother on the sofa in the living room with the glowing red embers of a once roaring fire still warming the room. No matter what he told her, she would be waiting up.
“Are you sure everything’s all right? You don’t quite sound like yourself.” Mary asked with concern in her voice.
“I just have a lot of things on my mind, Mom. I think it will do me a world of good to take a break and came home for a while. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? I love you, Mom. Bye.”
It had been dark for several hours when Christopher decided to leave the interstate in favor of a rural shortcut he had found on the map. It was only a two-lane blacktop winding through the countryside, but it was the shortest route to his mother’s house, saving many miles. Besides, the never-ending interstate was becoming a little bit monotonous to say the least. The road curved and winded passing through several small towns along the way. All the things he tried not to think about flooded their way back into his thoughts: Operation Down-size, Cindy’s sudden dislike of him. Try as he may, once again he couldn’t get his mind off the day before. Suddenly there was a red flashing light behind him. If he’s in that much of a hurry, why doesn’t he just go around me? He thought. Then a short burst of noise for a siren. Oh, no. I’m being pulled over by the police, Christopher realized and pulled off to the side of the road and stopped.
There was a first time for everything and this was a first for Christopher. A man in uniform was suddenly standing outside his window knocking on the window. “Sir, could you roll your window down, please,” the officer said coldly. “I need to see your license and registration, please.”
Christopher handed over the requested documents. “Did I do anything wrong, Officer?” he inquired.
“You were going fifty miles an hour in a zone clearly posted for thirty-five.”
“The last speed sign I saw was for fifty.”
“You’re coming into a small town just around the bend. The speed limit was reduced to thirty-five about a mile back.”
“I must not have seen the sign. I have a lot on my mind. I’m sorry. I’m really a safe driver. I’ve never had a ticket before.”
“Just because you’re a government employee driving a car with a government tag on it doesn’t mean you can speed through our town here.”
“I understand, Officer, and I am sorry. It wasn’t intentional. I am a little pressed for time, so, if you’ll just give me the ticket, I promise to be more careful.”
“That might be how you do things in the city, but I’m afraid we do things a little differently around here. You’re going to have to follow me to the court in town and see the judge. If you’re nice about it, he may let you post a bond for your release.” Christopher didn’t have the time for some backwoods judicial system to flex its muscles. This could take hours, and his mother would be getting worried. Christopher decided to do something he had never done before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his agency identification.
“I’m afraid I can’t oblige you, Officer. I’m with the CIA and this is a matter of national security.” The officer’s face grew long, not being used to being outranked by someone he’d pulled over. “Should have just given me the ticket,” Christopher said and drove off leaving the small town deputy standing on the side of the road with his jaw hanging.
It felt more than good when Christopher finally turned off the road and crossed over that little wooden bridge that told him he was home. He wasn’t at all surprised to see the lights on. He knew no matter what time he arrived, his mother would be up waiting. As he pulled up to the house and parked the car, Mary opened the front door and stood in the doorway, just as she had most of her life whenever Joe had come home.
Christopher took his bag from the trunk and walked up the steps onto the porch, set his bag down, and gave his mother a big long hug. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, Christopher. Come on in and get warm. It’s a little chilly out here.” Once inside Mary looked at her son and said, “You look exhausted. That’s a long drive. I’ve got your bed turned down for you. Why don’t you get some sleep and you can tell me in the morning why you’re really here.” She always could see the reality of a situation.
“Good idea, Mom.” Christopher gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.
“Sleep well, son.”
* * *
If the smell of bacon and eggs on the stove hadn’t found its way upstairs into Christopher’s room, he would have probably slept for several more hours. He had been totally exhausted and needed the sleep he had gotten.
“I hope I didn’t wake you rattling the pots and pans down here,” Mary said with a big innocent smile. Christopher just smiled knowing the smell of breakfast on the stove was meant to wake him.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” he replied. “Ten o’clock? Wow, I didn’t realize I was that tired.”
“I was beginning to think you might sleep all day. Sit down. I’ll fix you a plate.” Mary filled a plate with bacon, eggs, sausage, and some buttered toast next to a pile of hash browns. She poured a big glass of orange juice and put it on the table next to his plate. Mary patiently sipped on a cup of tea while Christopher ate.
When he was nearly finished, she asked, “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong? I could hear it in your voice when you called yesterday.”
There was a momentary silence. Christopher took the last sip of orange juice, put the glass down on the table in front of him. “I met a girl the other day.”
“That’s wonderful, Christopher. I understand now why you’re not yourself. Tell me all about her.”
“It’s more than that, Mom. I’ve a real problem to work out. That’s why I came here, so I could clear my head to think.”
Mary smiled. “She must have really gotten to you. I was beginning to think there wasn’t a girl out there that was sharp enough to catch your eye. She must be really something.”
“Yes, she is. I wish I could tell you everything, Mom, but it’s classified.”
“She isn’t classified, is she?”
“Of course not. Well her name is Cindy. She’s very attractive, and she’s an astronaut. Her field is microbiology. She’ll be going up as a mission specialist aboard the shuttle Columbia in two or three weeks.”
“Cindy. That’s a pretty name. Is the attraction mutual?”
Christopher hesitated, “Well, it was at first, but,” he stopped.
“Then what?”
“I can’t really explain, Mom. I mean it’s involved with this secret project and to explain what happened I’d have to say things I can’t talk about.” Christopher didn’t want to say anything about Operation Down-size because he knew the house might be bugged. He wouldn’t take the risk of underestimating his opponent, and he didn’t want to put his mother at risk or worry her over something she could do nothing about anyway.
“Well,” Mary said, “we’ll just have to deal in generalities. You have a problem to solve. The solution to most problems can be found by first defining an objective. Do you have an objective?”
“Actually, I have two objectives that must be reached through one action.”
Mary looked relieved. “That should be easy. You were able to do that when you were only seven. I take it one of these objectives has to do with a certain young lady. All I can say, Christopher, is follow your heart. I know you’ll do the right thing.�
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“These problems are a little more complex than problems were then, and the consequences of an inadequate solution are far too severe to take any chances. I just need to think on it for a while. It’s starting to get nice out so I think I’ll just go out on the porch. The fresh air and sunshine can’t hurt.”
“That’s a good idea, Christopher. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”
Christopher sat on the old porch swing. The sun felt good on his face as he let the bench gently swing back and forth. Between being home, his mother’s understanding words, and such a beautiful day, he was finally able to clear his head.
What he needed was a single action that would keep Cindy from trying to go public and that would prevent Operation Down-size from taking place. His own argument to Cindy kept coming to mind. What if he were in a lifeboat and a ship was sinking? Wouldn’t he save as many as he could? He had to remember that this was only an argument to stop Cindy from saying too much at the time. This was not a sinking ship and he was not in a lifeboat. This plan involved murdering billions of innocent people simply because they needed to eat food. These innocent people weren’t to blame for the situation they were in; the government leaders that were elected in good faith to solve such problems were really the ones responsible for not doing their job. These were the same people who were planning to murder the people they were elected to serve. An action of this magnitude would make Hitler look like a bully in a sandbox by comparison and could not be allowed to happen under any circumstances.
Christopher had a lot of favors owed him by field agents and covert operatives all over the world. But Operation Down-size was not only very large, but well organized, and it went right to the top. There was also no way of telling how many and which agents were already a part of the operation. It would take a lot more people than those who owed him favors to stop an operation of this size, and what about Cindy? How could he keep her from going public? He had no doubt that she would take action sooner or later. He knew the only way he could prevent her from going public would be to eliminate her need to do so. He figured there were only two ways of doing that, he thought. First would be to eliminate the reason for her to go public. That would mean to do away with Operation Down-size. No small task at best. Second would be for someone else to go public first. Then there would be no need for her to. His going public would have the best chance of stopping Operation Down-size altogether. He couldn’t imagine the public allowing it to happen if they knew about it. It would be hard to say how they could stop it, but if billions of people tried to stop something, they would most likely be successful.
It suddenly dawned on Christopher why he had seen so many people do what he thought, at the time, to be dumb things for a woman. Well that was it. He had to go public, but how to do it? There had to be a way without making himself a target.
Christopher noticed a slight chill in the air. He looked up and saw the sun was on the horizon. He had been on the porch all day. Mary was sitting on the living room sofa with the television on, though her thoughts and feelings were on the porch with Christopher.
“Christopher?” Mary was standing in the doorway. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you build us a fire and I’ll fix some dinner.”
“Sure, Mom.” Christopher went and retrieved an arm full of wood and took into the living room. In no time at all there was a roaring fire in the fireplace robbing the air of its chill.
“Dinner’s ready, Christopher.” Mary’s voice rang from the kitchen.
“Smells great as always, Mom.” He sat down as Mary set the last plate of food on the table.
As they ate, Mary asked, “Were you able to figure out your problem?”
“Well, I know what I have to do. Now all I have to do is figure out how to do it.”
“Another day on the porch like today and you could probably save the world,” Mary said in jest.
Christopher didn’t look up, but his eye’s got a little bigger. If she only knew how close to the truth she actually is, he thought. “I’ll be happy if I can just solve my problem.” He wanted so much to be able to tell his mom the details, but he would never put her at risk.
“Why don’t you give it a rest for the night and spend a little time with your mother?” Mary asked.
“Sure, Mom. Is there anything you want to see on television?”
“Well, there’s a movie coming on in a little bit that looks like it might be good. I’ll tell you what. If you watch the movie with me, I’ll make us some hot buttered popcorn. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a deal,” Christopher replied.
Early the next morning, Mary, assuming Christopher was still asleep, went to the kitchen to make a hot cup of tea. As she turned on the tap to add water to the kettle, she noticed someone standing on the little wooden bridge leaning against the rail. It was Christopher. She could see his breath in the chill of the morning air. When the water came to a boil, she filled her cup and gave it a gentle stir. She had never seen him so consumed with a problem before. This was, however, the first time there was a female in the equation.
“You know,” Mary said out loud to herself, “I could be a grandmother yet.” A big smile came over her face as she carried her cup of tea to the kitchen table and sat down. As she glanced out the window at Christopher, she could tell he was deep in thought and best left alone to sort things out for himself. If there was an answer to be found, Mary thought, who better than Christopher to find it? She was well aware of Christopher’s abilities and confident he could solve any problem. Mary looked out the window again, carefully watching the steam from Christopher’s breath as he exhaled. Downwind. Perfect. She thought as she filled an iron skillet with bacon and sausage. She turned on a burner on the stove and turned the exhaust fan to high. Within five minutes, Mary heard Christopher’s footsteps on the porch as he returned to the house.
“Is that breakfast I smell cooking?”
Never fails, Mary thought. “Go ahead and sit down, it’s almost ready.”
“Well?” Mary asked as Christopher finished his breakfast. “Have you worked out your problem?”
Christopher finished wiping his mouth with a napkin and set it on the table next to his now empty plate. “I believe I’ve found a single solution that will solve both problems.”
“I knew you would,” she said never having doubted that he would. “So when will I get to meet this young lady friend of yours?”
“I don’t know.” He quickly changed the subject. “I have to go into town for a while. Do you want me to get anything for you while I’m there?”
“We could use some more bacon and eggs before you eat me out of the house and home. You seemed to have developed quite an appetite lately.”
“Anything else, Mom?”
“Oh, yes. Some milk, too.”
“I’m going to be gone for a good part of the day, but I’ll stop and pick them up on the way back.” Christopher went upstairs and changed clothes, and, after giving his mother a big hug, headed for town.
His first stop would be at a bank in order to obtain some cash. He had to make some purchases and didn’t want to use his credit cards since they could be easily and instantly traced. After getting sufficient cash, Christopher went to a large discount store where he bought a video camera with a tripod and a remote microphone. He then drove around the outskirts of town for a while until he found a quiet and remote little mom and pop motel. He rented a room for the day.
Once in the motel room, he unpacked the equipment he bought and began to set it up. The white curtains over the window would make a perfect backdrop for what he was going to do. He moved the small table and all but one chair to the other side of the room. He then set the camera on the tripod and placed it facing the curtains on the other side of the small room. He plugged the remote microphone into the camera and strung the cord out to the chair and lay the microphone on the chair. After loading the tape and batteries into the camera, he pressed the button labeled power.
He looked into the viewfinder and adjusted the position of the camera and tripod until he was satisfied with what he saw. Remote control in hand, Christopher clipped the microphone to his shirt and sat in the chair facing the camera. He pressed the button on the remote control labeled record and looked directly into the camera.
“Test, test, 1, 2, 3, test.” He pressed stop and went to the camera to rewind the tape and play it back. After making a few adjustments to the camera, he returned to the chair. He repeated the test a few times until he was satisfied, then sat in the chair and went over in his mind what he was going to say.
Looking directly into the camera, Christopher pressed the record button, paused a moment, then began with a format he thought would get the most attention. “We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. Government and military leaders around the world have united in an effort to prevent, what they believe to be, the inevitable extinction of the human race, which they believe will be caused by global warming and over population coupled with food shortages. These are conditions that they, as our leaders, were supposed to prevent had they been doing their jobs. They not only failed us, but would now have us pay the price.
“Their solution is to hide in fallout shelters while they eliminate over ninety percent of the population by detonating neutron bombs—a tactic that would eliminate life but leave buildings and do so without any long-term radiation. The situation is real. It is called ‘Operation Down-size.’ It’s up to you, each and every one of you, to stop them. If you do not, you will all perish.
“This is not a joke, nor something to be taken lightly. Even though Operation Down-size will no doubt be denied, be forewarned, the threat is real. They may tell you I’m a radical or an escaped mental patient. I am, in reality, a high ranking official with the CIA. What I am telling you is the truth. What you do is up to you.”
