by J M Leitch
‘And does it?’
‘¡Mucho! We all felt the benefits of group meditation sessions twice a day after the first week. It’s inspiring. It’s hard to say in words but it gives you big confidence, big energy for everything you do.’
Greg looked down at his hands. ‘I really must start. I feel terrible I haven’t got round to it yet.’
Carlos smiled. ‘You must,’ he said. ‘You’ll be surprised.’
‘I like the idea of you leading a group meditation session before dinner on Sunday, Carlos. We’ll make that a ritual when we open our Sessions in future.’
‘It’ll be a fantastic photo op. We can film different dignitaries meditating and include it in our telecast on Monday. We need to get the whole world energised and in the right head space.’
‘And still no more word from Zul?’
‘Nothing. The tracking equipment’s been set up for months, but there’s been no further contact. How are you getting on with the clean-up issue?’
‘Very well. And if it does pan out the way you think it will, although I still don’t believe it for a moment, there would also be a huge issue regarding the assets of the dead.’
‘I’d never thought about that.’
‘So I’m recommending that each country encourages their citizens to make wills and devises special legislation that can be put in place in case of such an emergency.’
***
‘Drew! This place is fantastic,’ Erika said over her shoulder. A bellhop was showing them round a penthouse loft at the Soho Grand Hotel in New York. ‘Come here. We’ve got a balcony. Just look at that view.’
Drew strolled over, put his arm round her and pulled her close to his chest. ‘I’m glad you like it, ‘cos it’s costing me an absolute fortune.’
‘Flying first class – and now this,’ she turned towards him. ‘You shouldn’t have, you really shouldn’t.’
‘Thank NASA. What better way to blow the redundancy package.’
She laughed. ‘Even so – it’s very extravagant.’
‘You can’t take it with you. That’s what my dad always used to say.’
‘There’s even a fireplace…’
‘Like we’re going to need that at the end of June.’
‘And this living room’s massive.’
Drew tipped the bellhop and closed the door. He walked into the bedroom behind Erika where she was unlocking the suitcase. He put his hands on her hips. ‘Leave that for a moment,’ he said. He ran his hand up her leg, inside her skirt. She moaned and pushed back against him.
‘What about the champagne toast?’ she murmured. ‘It’ll go soggy.’
He tugged at her ear lobe with his teeth. ‘That’s not the only thing…’
***
After taking a nap, a shower and dressing for dinner, Drew and Erika went downstairs. The Yard, the hotel’s outdoor bar, was crowded, not only with hotel guests but with non-residents too, who were allowed in after four in the afternoon. Located right in the centre of the Soho district of New York, known for its diverse artistic community, it was a hotspot for celebrities and high rollers and on that particular mild evening, the terrace was charged with a high-spirited festive atmosphere.
Erika and Dew were lucky. A couple at the end of the bar was just leaving as they walked up.
‘I’ve never seen this place so busy,’ Drew said.
‘I overheard someone saying there isn’t a single hotel room to be had in the whole of New York.’
‘Good job I booked when I did.’
‘And doesn’t the city look pretty? I didn’t expect it to be decorated with all the bunting and flags and have all those billboards and the “Welcome to NY” messages on the electronic signboards everywhere. There’s such a happy holiday feeling.’
‘Even the Immigration Officer was polite. That’s a first!’
‘I can’t help wondering how my boys are, though.’
‘You’re not regretting leaving them, are you?’
‘No. Of course not. Just feeling a bit guilty. I’ve never done it before.’ She dropped her head and her choppy cut white blonde hair flopped over her face.
Drew tipped up her chin and pushed the strands out of her eyes. ‘You deserve some adult time,’ he said.
She leaned forward and kissed him. ‘I haven’t been treated like this for years,’ she said, ‘probably not since I dated you back in… wow… when was it now? Can you remember?’
‘’97.’
‘That’s right… the year Bill Clinton was re-elected.’
‘And the year the Brits gave Hong Kong back to China.’
‘And the year Princess Diana died. I was only twenty-four back then.’
‘And you still only look twenty-four.’
‘Ooh, you smooth talker, you.’
‘We had some fun though, didn’t we? Why did we break up again? Remind me.’
‘You met someone else.’
‘That’s funny, I thought you did.’
Erika shrugged. ‘I don’t know – it’s so long ago.’ She leaned over and gave him another kiss.
‘Hey! Hey!’
Erika slipped off her chair to make room at the bar for the man standing behind her but when she caught a glimpse of who it was she did a double take. ‘Carlos!’ she exclaimed.
‘Erika? Hey! What are you doing here?’ Carlos took a step towards her and gave her a kiss on each cheek.
‘I’m here for the launch – like everyone else in the world it seems.’
‘It’s good to see you. Let me introduce my friend, Rebecca Marshall,’ and he gestured to a pretty woman in her late twenties with shoulder length honey-coloured hair who was standing next to him. ‘Rebecca, an old friend from Goddard days, Erika Stone,’ and the two women smiled and nodded at each other. ‘It’s really good to see you,’ Carlos repeated. ‘I’ve been meaning to call. I owe you a dinner.’
‘I thought you’d forgotten,’ Erika said.
‘No,’ he shrugged, ‘just so busy. Let me buy you a drink now. It’s the least I can do.’
‘Thanks Carlos, but I’ve got one coming. In fact… I’m here with Drew.’
Drew, who’d noticed Carlos the exact same moment Erika had, used the time they were chatting to steel himself for this unexpected meeting, but for poor Carlos it came as a terrible shock. Hemmed in by the crowd, he was trapped and had little choice but to acknowledge Drew, which he did with the tiniest of nods.
The barman chose that moment to serve the drinks. Erika held up her hand asking him to wait and picked up a glass. ‘Rebecca, have a Mojito. House specialty.’
‘Thank you.’ Rebecca said, accepting the drink. ‘Wow! That’s delicious!’
‘Carlos, the same or something different?’
There was no way Carlos could get out of accepting a drink without making a scene, so he shrugged and scowling at Drew muttered, ‘Hey, I’ll follow the crowd.’
Erika made Drew give his seat to Rebecca and in no time the women were chatting like old friends. Erika was fascinated by Rebecca’s work as a scientific journalist and, exchanging phone numbers, they promised to look each other up when they got back to Vienna.
The men on the other hand regarded each other with terse unease. Drew tried to break the ice by apologising again. ‘Listen mate, I don’t know what to do other than say I am really sorry…’
But Carlos cut him off. ‘It’s bad enough I have to look at you,’ he said, ‘for Christ’s sake don’t go on about it as well.’
‘Okay. But we can’t stand here all night ignoring each other like a couple of complete wankers. At least let me congratulate you on the Global Consciousness initiative. You’ve pulled off an amazing job.’
Carlos jerked his head in acknowledgment.
‘Are you all set for the launch at the Grand Dinner tomorrow night?’
‘It’s under control.’
‘What kind of support do you expect from the members at the Special Session?’
‘Good.’
<
br /> ‘You really have done well, Carlos. To get all this off the ground in such a short time.’
‘It was important to me.’
‘It’s still all about Zul, isn’t it?’
‘Nothing changed there.’
‘You still believe he’s real?’
Carlos gestured with his glass, ‘No one, not the techies at the UN, not ITU-T, no one at NASA, not even the Dryden lads… no communications expert in the world… knows where the contact came from. So what do you think?’
‘I suppose you’re right. Until someone admits it and proves they’re responsible, what else can we believe?’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Carlos said, shaking his head. ‘You agree with me?’
‘Hold your horses – I don’t want to. To be quite honest, I find it impossible to believe. But there’s no escaping the logic.’
‘Hey… you’ve really backed down. I can’t let that go unrecognised. Let me buy you a drink,’ he said, waving his hand at the barman.
***
‘Nice move, babe.’
‘What’s that?’ Erika replied.
They’d had two rounds of drinks with Carlos and Rebecca before eating at the hotel restaurant. After finishing their meal they withdrew to the loft, tired and full, for a nightcap. It was a beautiful night and they sat on the balcony with a balmy breeze blowing their hair, looking over to the New York skyline.
‘How you suckered Carlos into having a drink with us.’
‘Was it that obvious?’ she asked.
‘Not to Rebecca… which, I guess, is all that matters.’
‘He was so ticked off with me.’
‘Yeah well – it won’t last long. I’m the one he’s got it in for.’
‘He seemed to be okay with you at the end. I saw you guys laughing.’
‘It took a lot of bowing and scraping on my part.’
‘You did good. It can’t have been easy for him.’
‘What about me? I feel terrible every time I think about it.’
She took his hand and kissed it. ‘Poor baby. Screwing someone else’s wife. It does make life kinda awkward.’
He pulled his hand away. ‘Don’t take the piss. I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘What did you make of Rebecca?’ Erika said, changing the subject.
‘She’s very pretty. And very young. What’s she do?’
‘She’s a science journalist. They met when she interviewed him for an article and they became friends.’
‘Just friends? Don’t make me laugh.’
‘That’s what she said. Not all men are like you, trying it on with every woman they meet.’
‘A chance would be a fine thing these day.’
‘Oh ho!’ Erika retorted, ‘don’t start that. You wanted to commit. I didn’t force you.’
Drew took a sip of his drink. ‘Dangerous ground,’ he said grinning. ‘Better get back to Rebecca. So what’s she doing in Vienna?’
‘She’s been travelling round Europe and using Carlos’s place as a base. I don’t think there’s anything going on, although she’s obviously besotted by him. She hangs on his every word.’
‘No shit?’
‘It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?’
‘Just looked normal to me.’
‘Men!’ Erika said narrowing her eyes.
‘Not surprising though… it must be a real head trip for a kid her age to be knocking about with the bloke who introduced Global Consciousness to the world.’
CHAPTER 11
The previous night’s Global Consciousness Grand Dinner was a huge success as was the General Assembly Special Session, which Greg was just wrapping up. Carlos, observing from one of the press booths, was overjoyed at the support the member countries had shown and was confident the backing of the general public would prove just as strong.
After its initial knee jerk response in criticising the initiative, the media had reversed its position and now praised the drive.
The tide had turned from the negative direction in which it had been running for so many depressing years. People were eager to empower themselves and take individual responsibility, not just for their own actions but for global issues too.
The pre-launch publicity was doing its job.
Carlos arranged for his team to watch the satellite transmission on the television in the conference room down the corridor from Greg’s suite of offices. This, the official launch aimed at the public, was expected to break global viewer records for any previously televised event. Faith had arranged for cases of champagne to be put on ice – Carlos’s treat – and everyone who had worked on the campaign from Vienna to New York was crammed into the room.
The atmosphere was electric. A current of excitement charged every person present. Running on the heels of the Grand Dinner and the General Assembly Special Session the television launch, just minutes away, would channel the vitality of the earlier triumphs through to the grass roots of the people.
As Carlos popped corks, Faith poured the champagne. When all the glasses were charged, Greg made a stirring speech and everyone raised their drinks in a toast. The room was a mass of people standing, sitting on chairs, balanced on windowsills and perched on tables, with a few even sitting cross-legged on the floor.
The cacophony of voices threatening to blast out the windows began to lull as one by one people noticed Faith had turned up the volume in readiness for the transmission. By the time the opening credits were running, the room had fallen into complete silence. Carlos sat next to Greg, holding his champagne flute by the stem. After all the weeks of hard work, the first phase of the initiative was nearly at an end.
As the world watched, footage of royalty, heads of state and religious leaders meditating before the Grand Dinner the previous night, instead of returning to America’s best loved film couple, the joint face of the campaign, another figure appeared.
Zul.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Carlos said.
‘What the hell’s he doing?’ Greg whispered, transfixed to his seat.
‘Humans of the planet Earth,’ Zul said in a deep warm baritone. He looked like an image of Jesus Christ. ‘What you see before you,’ he raised his hands from his lap and opened his arms on either side of his body, the wide sleeves of his indigo kaftan hanging down so low they disappeared out of the frame, ‘is a manifestation of sixth density consciousness representing the Galactic Federation. We apologise for interrupting this transmission, but it is in connection with the message being delivered that we need to speak to all you humans.
‘Everything you just heard is correct. Your global organisation named the United Nations is speaking the truth. However, there is an imperative to their message that has yet to be shared with you.
‘That is why we are here.
‘Your galaxy is due to reach a very special state on the 21st December this year. Some of you humans are aware of this, whilst many are not. We are, therefore, interrupting this broadcast to explain the evolutionary process that drives your universe and why it is so important that each one of you pays heed to the call from your group, the United Nations, to practise meditation and prayer around your planet.’
‘¡Dios mío!’ Carlos exclaimed leaping up ‘He’s going to talk about the resettlement programme.’
‘Oh my!’ Greg said, struggling out of his chair. ‘Can you stop him?’
Carlos was running for the door. ‘I need to speak to the Chief Engineer.’
While everyone else sat in silence, hypnotised by Zul, Carlos, Faith and Greg rushed into Greg’s office.
‘So what are you doing about it?’ Carlos roared down the phone. ‘Jesus!’ he bellowed slamming down the receiver.
Greg sat on the edge of his chair gripping the desk so hard the knuckles of his small hands began to turn white. ‘What did he say?’ he muttered.
‘Our transmission’s been blocked. They don’t know how. The one of Zul is being beamed out in its place. They’ve got no idea where
it’s coming from.’
‘Who’s doing this?’ Greg asked in a flat voice, as Carlos sank down into a chair.
***
For the rest of that day, the whole world went mad.
Never before in the history of man had the Internet or the phone lines carried such intensive traffic. Cables heated to near melting point.
The Secretary-General called an emergency follow-up meeting to the General Assembly Special Session held earlier in the day. All the heads of state, many of whom had gone back to their hotel rooms to watch the UN broadcast, responded to the summons and returned to the General Assembly hall bewildered.
After a pre-meeting meeting with a livid Bob Anderson, Greg opened the follow-up Special Session by giving a concise run-down on the previous communications from Zul. He explained why he and the President of the United States of America had not deemed it prudent to inform anyone else about this contact.
Thank God, Greg thought, Zul hadn’t mentioned anything about bodies.
He then opened the floor for discussion, the main thrust of which, unsurprisingly, revolved around identifying whether Zul’s contact and his message were real or a hoax.
After two hours of heated talks that went nowhere as members asked the same questions and came up with the same answers time and time again like a pack of dogs chasing their own tails, no one was the least bit nearer achieving the goal of verifying whether Zul was what he claimed or a human imposter.
Two hours, two days, two weeks, two months or even two years – it wouldn’t have mattered how long they spent – the only thing they could all agree was that the Zul enigma was unfathomable.
Having reached that unsatisfactory point, the next task was to decide what united face to put forward to the world. This was when the temperature inside the great hall really began to skyrocket and tempers were irretrievably lost as furious words were exchanged.
The Europeans were all over the place. Some leaders wanted to tell their people the truth, that no one knew if Zul was an entity from the sixth density or a human with a hidden agenda, while others were convinced Zul was definitely human. Greg shared his theory of humanism with which the leaders of a few South American countries aligned themselves, but for which Bob harangued him and anyone else who dared suggest Zul was an alien or a human with the good of the planet on his mind.
