The Harvest

by John David Krygelski

  Before he could reach the doorway, the door opened and four Secret Service agents entered, followed by the President. Margo jumped up immediately, turning to face him. Claire and Reese, still stunned, managed to rise as well.

  “Margo, good to see you.”

  “And you, sir. I guess you changed your mind.”

  The President’s eyes connecting with Margo’s, he answered softly, “Let’s just say that the wisdom of your words finally did sink in.” Clearing his throat, he raised his voice slightly and asked, “Where is our guest? We have less than an hour.”

  Glancing at the projection screen, Margo said, “In the next room,” gesturing toward the far door. One of the Secret Service agents, apparently the senior of the group, nodded toward the door, and two of the men started forward.

  “Colin,” said the President, addressing the agent in charge, “what are you doing?”

  “Sir, if you’re going in there, we need to check him out.”

  Margo started to explain that Elohim had already passed through the State Department security scans, when the President cut her off. “Colin, there are at least some people here who think he may be God. I don’t know if he is or not. But until we figure this out, I will not have him frisked. Besides, from what I’ve been told, if he wanted a gun, he could materialize one.”

  The two agents, who were halfway to the far doorway, stopped, looking at their senior for guidance. Rather than waiting for Colin to give the order, the President looked at them and firmly said, “Have a seat…in here.” Looking at Colin, he said, “All of you.”

  “Sir, at least let me go in with you. No one even knows who this guy is. He has no history, nothing.”

  Reese spoke from across the room. “He has a lot more history than all of us put together.”

  Trying to change the subject, Margo asked, “Were you able to get over here quietly?”

  Shrugging, the President answered, “As quietly as I can go anywhere. I think the scheme that Colin cooked up was the five different caravans trick. But it seemed to work. Didn’t see any press along the way.”

  Turning to Reese, he said, “Dr. Johnson, I understand that you’ve been walking ‘point’ on this one?”

  “Yes, sir, I have. It has been quite a trip so far.” Reese was still clutching the lab results. “Mr. President, this is my wife, Claire.”

  The man quickly walked the length of the table, extending his hand to her. “A pleasure, Mrs. Johnson. I’m quite a fan of your husband.”

  She smiled brightly. “So am I. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Turning to Reese, he asked, “Anything I should know before I go in?”

  “You mean other than having your world turned upside down…no, sir.”

  From behind the President, Colin, the Secret Service agent, asked, “What’s the deal with this handshake?” It was obvious from the question that he thought it was some kind of threat.

  “The deal,” Reese answered, “is like nothing you’ve ever felt…at least for me.”

  “Should the President avoid it?”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for all the money on Earth,” answered Reese honestly.

  The President listened to this, smiling. Reaching out, he shook Reese’s hand and said, “Thank you for your service on this. I mean it. I know that it has been…well….”

  “A long, strange trip,” Claire finished for him.

  “Another Grateful Dead fan,” said the President, smiling again. Claire was amazed at his ability to put her at ease.

  “Just that song,” she answered.

  “Well, I’d better get in there.”

  With that he turned and walked purposefully to the door, swinging it open and striding in. No one had noticed on the screen that Elohim had risen and was waiting near the door. The President caught himself before he bumped into Elohim, extending his hand and saying, ”Elohim, I have been waiting for this opportunity.”

  “As have I,” Elohim answered, taking his hand. Immediately, the effect of their touch swept over the President. Biting his lower lip, his forehead furrowed and his eyes teared. The contact only lasted for twenty seconds, both releasing their grips at the same moment. Elohim moved to a chair at the table, as did the President. They both sat on the same side, next to and facing each other.

  Elohim spoke first. “It has been a difficult road for you these last few years.”

  “It has been…,” the President replied, “challenging.”

  “Overall, you’ve done well.”

  “Thank You for that. But I’ve made many mistakes.”

  “Yes, you have. But they were the mistakes of a well-intentioned man. And you have traveled uncharted waters; mistakes are inevitable.”

  “Thank You for answering my prayers in my times of need.”

  “I have answered no prayers of yours.”

  Stunned by the response, the President said, “But, I thought….”

  “The only prayer that I answered was from your mother, who asked me to give you the strength for the task.”

  Thinking back over his terms, the President said, “There were times when I felt Your presence…when I felt Your hand guide me. Was I deluding myself?”

  “If your belief was that my hand guided you, then, yes, you did delude yourself. If your belief was that there was a wise and loving hand to help you in your times of need, it was no delusion.”

  “Then whose hand was it?”

  “It was the hand of your people…they heard your prayers and they answered. Those were their hearts and their souls that you felt during your darkest hours…and it was their love.”

  “Love? A scarce commodity.”

  “Not if you know where to look.”

  “There is so much anger in the world. I have felt so much hatred…for me.”

  “My dear son, do you remember when you were very young and your father was gone for so long?”

  “I do. Government service is like that. He was gone for almost two years. We only saw him occasionally, and they were brief visits.”

  “How were the visits?”

  “Wonderful. We had so much fun – camped and played ball with him. It was great.”

  “And how did you feel when he returned for good?”

  “We were ecstatic…at first.”

  “What happened?”

  “He wasn’t happy with how we had changed while he was gone. He thought we had gotten spoiled and lazy. There weren’t any camping trips…no baseball.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He rode us unmercifully. He made home feel like a boot camp.”

  “How did you and your brothers feel then?”

  “We were furious. We thought he’d become a tyrant…a monster.”

  “Didn’t you tell him one day that you hated him?”

  The President’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering. “Yes. I wanted a weekend away, away from him mostly. He inspected my room and found some clothes my mother had washed that I hid in the corner of the closet instead of putting them away. He grounded me.” His eyes shifted and focused on something in the distance. “I was so mad. I screamed at him. I told him I hated him. I didn’t speak to him for three weeks.”

  “Did you really hate him?”

  “I guess so…I mean, at that moment, I guess I did. We didn’t…it took such a long time until we were close after that.”

  “Do you hate him now?”

  “No! I love that man with all my heart.”

  “So, over the years he has changed quite a lot.”

  “No, he didn’t change…I did. I needed that period of strictness. I had slipped, quite a bit actually…at home and at school. He put me back on the right track. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him…without what he did.”

  “He could have returned home after the two years and just tried to be your friend, the way he had on the visits.”

  “I think I’m getting your point.”

  “I am certain that you are. Your peopl
e needed a firm hand. Under previous leaders they had strayed too far.”

  “That’s what I believed.”

  “You were right. And now many of them feel about you the same way you felt about your father on that horrible day. You did have a choice. You could have been their friend, pandering to the whims of the majority, a temptation to which so many leaders succumb. You chose to do your job.”

  “I eventually came around with my father. Will they?”

  “As it was with you, not for a very long time.”

  A look of sadness crossed the President’s face, but only for a moment. “We have only a short time until the scheduled statement. How do you think it will be received?”

  “I only seek a small audience. They will receive it as they should. For many of the rest, it will not be pleasant.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The State Department briefing room was filled to capacity, far exceeding its maximum allowable occupancy. In the audience were representatives from all of the news organizations, as well as field correspondents from the various feature, or soft news, programs. Also in the audience were the few members of the House and Senate who were mostly from the southern states and not afraid to be associated with anything religious. The jumble of cables and light stands made it nearly impossible to walk, creating a fire marshal’s nightmare.

  The members of the group were about to make their statements. Clayton Dean, Margo Jackson, Reese Johnson, Walter Penfield, and Craig McWilliams were clustered in the corner, trying to speak to one another over the cacophony. Margo was saying, “I think adding Craig to the group is a good idea.”

  “You’re right,” agreed Dean. “He has become a focal person in the press. If we didn’t include him, this thing would be dominated by questions about him.” Looking at his watch, Dean added, “We had better get started. Everyone ready?”

  They nodded, all clutching their notes a little too firmly. “Okay, let’s get….”

  The chatter in the room elevated noticeably. Clayton turned to determine what had caused the additional noise, and saw Rabbi Schmidt enter. Schmidt noticed him at the same time and worked his way patiently across the room toward them.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Margo.

  As he reached the group, Reese said, “I’m very glad you decided to join us, Leo.”

  Schmidt was smiling, almost beaming. “It is amazing the relief one feels when a decision is made. I’m not certain I’ll speak, but it would be cowardly for me not to stand with you today.”

  Clayton said, “Do you think this group will let you stand with us and not demand a comment?”

  Glancing over his shoulder at the unruly press corps, Leo said, “I’ve performed services in Brooklyn. Do you really think this is a tougher group?”

  Laughing, Dean slapped him on the back. “Welcome aboard. Well…let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Before you do, I must ask…is Elohim not to be here for this?”

  “He’s here,” Reese answered. “He’s in the other room. It didn’t feel right to me to plunge Him into this before we all spoke.”

  “You are not afraid that bringing Him out after everyone speaks will look too much like a Hollywood unveiling?” Leo asked, nearly shouting to be heard.

  “Any suggestions?”

  “He has faced much worse than a bunch of smug, self-important reporters. I say bring Him in.”

  Reese turned to the others. Margo agreed, “It makes sense to me.”

  Craig and Clayton nodded.

  Reese crossed behind the podium and exited. A moment later he returned with Elohim, who barely glanced at the throng as he walked along the front of the room to join the group. Starting with the reporters closest to his entrance, heads swiveled to see who had entered. None of them had seen Elohim or his picture; yet, as they looked at him, they stopped talking. The spreading silence captured the attention of those farther back. As they craned to see, they became silent, slowly lowering themselves into their chairs. Within thirty seconds of his arrival, the room was nearly silent, and all but the small group at the front were seated.

  Craig, observing the effect, whispered to the group, “This is weird. It’s like a….”

  “Church,” Reese offered.

  “No,” corrected Schmidt, “a synagogue.”

  Reese turned to Elohim and whispered, “This is a little different for You, isn’t it?”

  Elohim smiled and said, “As opposed to arriving on a pillar of smoke, bracketed by lightning bolts?”

  “That is the image of Your Coming that most have.”

  “Those who have written of my arrival have much reverence…and a vivid imagination to match.”

  “Well, here goes!” said Clayton, moving to the podium.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for coming. As this situation is unprecedented, I appreciate your patience and cooperation. Four days ago, this gentleman” – he gestured toward Elohim – “arrived at the Hoover Building and asked to speak with William Burke, the Director of the FBI. After submitting him to normal security procedures, Director Burke agreed to see him. It was during that meeting that our guest informed us that he was…our Creator.” There was a slight murmur in the audience. Clayton continued, “Director Burke is not here to describe the details of the meeting; however, our guest was persuasive enough for him to believe that further investigation was warranted.

  “At that point, Craig McWilliams was assigned to the investigation. Agent McWilliams did not personally conduct any interviews at that time. He brought in a number of linguists from Fort Detrick…all experts in their particular languages. All spent time with our guest, conversing with him in their languages of specialization. From the reports that I’ve reviewed, all of which will be handed out to each of you at the end of this statement, our guest was found to be fluent in each language, fluent to the degree of it being, in the opinion of the linguists, his native tongue. The languages involved were originally the major current languages in the world, including French, German, Spanish, Slavic, Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and so on. At that point, Agent McWilliams brought in specialists of several obscure and ‘dead’ languages, including Aramaic, Latin, and others. Again, our guest displayed a mastery of each without exception. I have spoken with two notable linguistic professors, who have authored many books on the subject, and they concur that there is not a living person they are aware of who has demonstrated anything approaching this ability.

  “It was then that Agent McWilliams, who heads the FBI profiling unit and holds a degree in psychology, began his interviews. I will let him speak as to his findings, but suffice it to say that he felt there was sufficient reason to proceed to the next level of the investigation. Due to the nature of our guest’s claim, we felt that it was important to bring in an expert on multiple religions, rather than a representative of a specific faith. It was decided to recruit Dr. Reese Johnson. His formal training in anthropology and psychology, as well as his lifelong specialization in the study of all religions, seemed to make him a perfect choice.

  “Of all of the investigators, Dr. Johnson has spent the most time with our guest. It was during his first meeting that our guest disclosed his name…Elohim. Dr. Johnson will describe his own findings in a few moments.

  “At Dr. Johnson’s request, we also brought in Walter Penfield who, as most of you know, specializes in mathematics and physics. Dr. Penfield conducted his own interviews with Elohim and will speak as to the result of those.

  “As a personal favor, Director Burke asked Archbishop Coughlin to meet with Elohim. Subsequent to this meeting, the Archbishop made a public statement that you have all seen. Archbishop Coughlin has fallen into ill health and will not be available for comment at this time. As a result of the Archbishop’s meeting with Elohim, Cardinal Mario Bonavente requested and was granted a meeting. He, also, is not present today to describe the outcome of that meeting.

  “Since the Catholic Church had been given an opportunity to meet with Elohim, the Acti
ng Director of the FBI, Margo Jackson, felt it appropriate to invite Rabbi Leo Schmidt, who agreed to meet with Elohim. Rabbi Schmidt is not on our schedule of speakers, and although he is present today, I don’t know what, if anything, he plans to share of his meeting with Elohim.

  “I would like to entertain questions periodically during this statement. I ask that we maintain some decorum and that the questions asked pertain to statements which have been made up to that point only. We will open things up for unlimited questions after everyone on the dais has spoken. Any questions at this point?”