SUMMATION

by Daniel Syverson

  "Enough." The commander held up his hand, "I don't want to hear any more silliness. Shall I tell our King that an old man has bested his guards, and now strikes fear into their hearts?" He turned to enter the throne room, breaking the seal and opening the letter. He stopped, looked at the letter, and saw only a symbol, some names, some writing he couldn't understand, and some more symbols, and even a few numbers. Nothing else. By now he was standing just inside the throne room.

  "Yes? You interrupt me for what?" the King asked. The commander had interrupted his discussion with his generals, and he was annoyed. "What do you have for me?"

  "Only this, Your Highness."

  Bowing, he presented it. "An old man at the gate raised quite a furor to get this to you. I will have him dealt with. I apologize for wasting your time. If you desire, I will wait."

  "Never mind. You have already disrupted us. What is so important you needed to disturb me? Bring it to me." The Commander bowed low, presenting the letter."

  The King unfolded the letter, looked it over for a moment, and froze. "Who else has seen this?" demanded the King. "The guards? The messenger? Others?"

  "No, Sire. Only I. The seal was intact, though damaged. I wished to keep from disturbing you, and wanted to rule out the rantings of an old and silly man. I apologize for wasting your time," bowing even lower.

  "Hand me your sword." Puzzled, the commander rose and did so, grip first.

  In one smooth motion, the king rose, took the sword, stepped forward, and ran the Commander through. Wide, shocked eyes appeared, and not only from the commander, who could do nothing but reach for the sword, drop to his knees, and fall forward, driving it deeper yet. Shocked, but prudently silent, faces lined the room.

  The king folded the letter, putting it inside his garments. "Bring the old man to me, and empty the room."

  When the shocked general staff paused, the King shouted, "BRING HIM TO ME AND EMPTY THE ROOM!"

  This time, people scattered. The room was emptied. A few very short minutes later the old man was brought to the entrance of the throne room, and pushed inside. The door was closed behind him.

  "Who are you, old man?" demanded the King.

  "Ah, but it is not who I am but who you are," he replied.

  "Anger me not, old man - look before you on the floor - the commander of my guard. He looked at your letter. You shall be next."

  "Very good, your Highness." The man bowed to the floor. "You understand the significance of the letter. Now we must talk." He paused. Looking around, he spotted a small stool. Turning, he walked over to pick it up.

  "You have turned your back on me. Your King!"

  No one - no peasant, no general, no family member - ever turned their back on the King. One stepped back, bowing as they did so. Such an affront - the King's patience was wearing thin, and it would seem this old man was going out of his way to end his miserable life, which couldn't be much longer anyway.

  The old man picked up the stool, and shuffled back, setting the stool on the carpet that trailed down from the throne. Satisfied, he sat down and looked up.

  "We have little enough time, your Highness, so enough nonsense. Listen closely, for there will be no other, and you must remember well. If you must put things on paper, take great care, as there are those around you who would have you fail."

  The directness, the utter disregard for his station - pulling up a stool a sitting down on the carpet coming down from the king's throne - the blatant disregard of all propriety - the King was stunned into silence.

  "There is one coming, of whom it is written, and he shall one day rule. That man is not you, nor your sons. I know not when, but I will tell you the signs.

  "Your mother was given a gift, not of this world, because she was chosen to bear the line of the Protectors. As such, you shall gain power. Not just wealth, nor land, nor great armies, but personal power, power beyond that of those around you. And with each generation, this power will grow. Each will be a vessel that adds his power to that given to him.

  "You must take great care to conceal and protect this gift. At the unveiling, this power will protect the Chosen One and the Proclaimer. You and your line shall always be rewarded. They will want for nothing. They will have success in their dealings. But remember, there are those who would have you fail, those that are opposed to the Chosen One. They will stop at nothing to prevent what must occur.

  "Use your resources wisely. Always look to the future. It will be important to have your people everywhere, just as your enemies will.

  "And watch for the signs. Always watch. The letter gave you a sequence of symbols. They mean nothing to me, nor to you, but they will. When the time is right.

  "You have the power to rule as you wish. It matters not to Him, save that you are ready, prepared, and strong when it is required. The rest is yours to do with what you wish. Just remember your loyalties, and all will be yours. You are King here, but a servant to our Master."

  The King opened his mouth to ask the first of many questions, but the old man had already stood, turned, picked up his stool, and was replacing it along the wall.

  "Sire, it is time for me to go. I know you have many questions, but they matter not. You know what you must know, and the answers will come. My time is short, and I wish to spend it elsewhere."

  The King, still stunned by what he had heard, climbed down from his throne, standing directly in front of the old man. Looking deep into the old man's eyes, he knew he was not in the presence of just any old man. He held his eyes for several more moments before the old man turned towards the entrance to the King's chamber.

  The two walked, silently, the King's head bent in deep thought, following the old man to the entrance. The old man pushed the door open, and the King followed him out, silently. The others- the Generals, the guards, the staff- all looked on in stunned incredulity, in silence.

  The King had much to consider. He knew now some of his history, and some explanation of the incredible fortune and successes he had had in the past. Now, though, he had been promised even greater things.

  On the other hand, he was not his own man anymore, and this was troubling. Even worse, he could confide in no man, at least, not yet.

  The two men, King and old man, walked out together. But as the men walked through the Great Hall, the old man did not seem quite so old or frail, and the King did not feel quite so young and invincible.

  The king called the Sargent, who had been waiting patiently outside.

  "Give this man a horse, and rations of food and water as he desires. And give him a letter with my personal seal, that none shall disturb him on his journey." Then, without saying good-bye or acknowledging the old man further in any way, he turned, and returning to his chamber, pulled the great door shut behind him. He stood alone for a moment, then slowly walked back to his throne.

  There was much to consider.

  * * *

  And the people noted of the king his thoughtful and introspective manner, and his successes, and the failures of those who opposed him; and the respect of all, friends and enemies, was greatly increased.

  * * *

  And the King never spoke of the visit. And none dared ask.

  Chapter 19

  Lineage

  However, it did not always go well along the King's lineage. As one would imagine, some heirs were better than others. Some maintained the discipline required, while others were free and loose with their power and wealth. And it was true, there were those determined to not allow the success of the Protectors. As a result, much wealth and power was squandered, and even the personal power, pent up and increasing by generation, was not what it could have been.

  And there were successes. When one those enemies of the crown was found, they were always handled with great speed, and ruthless determination. The man was always and immediately killed; any relatives found and killed, and all his belongings and homes sacked and burned. There could be no record for them to pass along.

  And so
, like the tides of the ocean, the growth and power of the Protectors ebbed and flowed, though in the long run, they were always getting stronger. They wisely formed organizations that, although members knew not the ultimate purpose, the organization itself served to support and protect its current leader.

  Money was funneled to many places, many people. Some might collect funds for years before even a simple request was asked. Other sources were used constantly, and were well rewarded.

  Overall, though, the old man would have been proud.

  And the symbols slowly came of age, guiding the heirs. All were amazed at the ability of the leaders to choose new products, new technologies - knowing to choose those that would be successful versus those that were not. And none ever knew that the symbols on that paper guided them, symbols that meant nothing in the past, but now, were obvious.

  * * *

  Soon, there were very few symbols remaining. Clearly, it was almost time. The last symbol was still unknown, making no sense, but neither had the previous ones initially, though most were now household symbols, known by all. Yet, by having that knowledge ahead of others, the opportunity was there, and those opportunities were taken. It turned out that these symbols provided advance knowledge that allowed the Protectors to make great financial gains. It gave them the edge on new technology, and with it they were able to stay one step ahead of the competition, and one step ahead of those looking for them, and as always, they were adding to their coffers. In effect, it was insider trading on a cosmic scale.

  One last symbol remained, along with a sequence of numbers, and with it, the Coming. Gerhard, Hans, and those in a tightly bound inner circle combed the internet, newspapers, television - anywhere and everywhere, waiting for an explanation of the final symbol. The numbers, they knew. Any school age kid would know, now. Meaningless twenty years before, again, the information was now common knowledge. 630.47.10.101. Obviously, an IP address. A number that would have meant absolutely nothing to anyone in the past, now so obvious. Who's? Would it be a person? An organization? Or just another lead, a guide, someone to point the direction?

  The number didn't yet exist. They could have nothing to do with it. The owner of that address was fore ordained, and they would have to wait and trust for it to appear. Periodically his people would surreptitiously search the number, careful to leave no trace behind of that search, but it always came back not found. They would wait.

  It was almost time. When it arrived, this would be the final knowledge as to the identity of the Proclaimer, the man the entire organization had been built for all these years. It would provide the funds, the personnel, the organization, and the contacts- all the necessary items for the Chosen One to rule at the Coming. The final touch, the coup de grace, would be when Hans, or the next leader, or the next, stood up in front of the world as the Protector of the Chosen One. The eyes of the entire world would be on this stage, and the power unleashed by the hand of the Protector would give credence to the Chosen One.

  It would be seen by all that the Protectors controlled nature itself, and that Mother Earth and the stars above were waiting to anoint the Chosen One. At that point, none would challenge; leaders of countries great and small would submit. God himself would stand down.

  If the Protector had accomplished his task, the awe, the demonstrated power that would be shown as beyond, way beyond human capabilities - a return to the long extinct power of the supernatural, plus the infrastructure installed gradually over the years - would be so complete, so total, that the Protector would simply present the Chosen One. There would be no campaigns, no elections.

  How would He accomplish this? No one knew yet, but if the preparations were complete and total, there would be no challenge. He would simply walk in, demonstrate his power, and rule. Out of nowhere, a ruler.

  * * *

  The total domination prior to the Proclamation had to be complete. The incredible responsibility for this and the rapidity that events were falling into place was just beginning to dawn on Hans. His powers had to be full, and controlled. There could be no mistake.

  Chapter 20

  Roscoe

  As the blue Ford Focus rental headed north, he began to see the residual damage from the storm. Trees and branches were down, and repair crews were all over. Com Ed trucks had already arrived from neighboring states to assist with line repair, and you would be hard pressed to find two license plates from the same area. Interspersed were trucks from the county, state, and city, with crews cutting up downed trees with chain saws, feeding small and medium branches into the chipper, cutting larger ones into eighteen or twenty-four inch sections and stacking them for later pickup. A lot of residents were out, cleaning up their own yards, or helping the neighbors. ROAD CLOSED signs were all over, and when those ran out, orange cones were stretched across the roads. In other cases, the tree laying across the road made the point more clearly than any sign, and more effectively. The signs did seem redundant and pointless - if trees were blocking the road, it was closed, sign or not.

  Whatever had happened, it had happened here, within the radius of the most severe damage. The highway was still closed as crews continued to cut the semi into pieces small enough to haul. A few vehicles involved with the freak (or was it?) storm and pileup were still along the side of the road, awaiting the Dan-Car type tow trucks. Regular tow trucks couldn't tow the mangled vehicles. They needed to be loaded, one by one, onto trailers.

  He turned right, following the detour to go around. Two blocks in a sign pointed left, but trucks were now blocking the road, so he went one more block. Although he probably could have gotten through, there were still a lot of people cutting branches in the street, so he turned at the next block instead. The road was clear, but didn't go through, so once more he continued. At the next corner, turning left, he made his way down the street, skirting some trash cans that had blown and been left there, along with a child's big wheel and a trampoline, partially wrapped around a large oak tree, like a bandage, covering missing limbs.

  Continuing north, the road curved right, and then crossed I-90. The roads were clearer here, but getting back was getting confusing. He tried to get back across I-90, but the next several streets didn't work. Finally, he found a crossing road, but there was a NO LEFT TURN. Unbelievable. Looking left and right, no cars were coming, so he turned left anyway. He hoped God wasn't watching.

  Well, God was probably tied up on other items, but Jenna Roberts wasn't. She had just left the station, not two blocks away, and caught the turn. With all the roads messed up, it wasn't a big deal, but the car was a rental, and the driver probably not from around here. She thought she'd better at least check things out. They might need help finding someone, or possibly they were a looter. Either way, she needed to at least check it out.

  She flipped on the squad's lights, and tapped the siren. She saw the driver whip his head around, left and right, then into the mirror. After that, turn signal and brake lights came on, and the car rolled to a stop. Checking on her laptop, she confirmed it was a rental before she walked up to the window.

  "Good morning," she opened with, "Could I see your license and insurance, please."

  He reached into his wallet, and removed his license and ID, handing them to her through the window. "I don't have any insurance papers with me, this is a rental."

  "Okay, could I see your rental papers?" He handed them to her.

  She looked closely at the license. "What is this? What kind of license is this? Where are you from?"

  "May I?", as he motioned outside. She nodded. He stepped out of the car, as she stepped back.

  "I'm Timothy Biazzi, and I'm here from the Vatican."

  She did a double take, and took another look at the license and ID. Looked okay, but how the hell would she know what a legitimate Vatican ID looked like? Figures. Nice looking guy, Italian, and he's a priest.

  "Well, that's a new one on me. What brings you here, Father Biazzi?"

  He laughed. "Not Father. I'm
not a priest. I just work for them. Big difference. Just ask my mother. She wanted me to be one. A priest, that is. She still wants me to be a father someday. Father as in small 'f', though I'm sure either would be fine with her.

  She turned red. She should have paid more attention. "Sorry. I should have known better. No collar or anything. Don't know what I was thinking. So just what does bring you clear over here?"

  He looked at for the first time, really noticing her. Kind of cute when she was turning red like that. Plus, she actually looked pretty good in uniform. Or maybe the uniform looked good on her.

  As far as her question, he really couldn't really go into it, so he just said, "I heard about the storm when I was visiting Chicago, and curiosity got the better of me."

  "Well, Mr. Biazzi, technically, the reason I stopped you is that you turned left where it says not to, but actually, I just wanted to keep an eye on out-of-towners that might not belong. You know, looters and such." She pointed down the road to the sign. "But I think we can get by with a warning, seeing as you're guest here and all. Besides, getting a ticket here might leave Mrs. Biazzi with one too many disappointments regarding her wayward son."

  "I thank you for that kindness. Lord knows Mama Biazzi, rest her soul, will be happier, though she never quite got over the priest thing. 'You're still young. You're still single. You could still make me proud'. Right up to the day she died. Anyway, I promise to be more careful about those signs." A thought crossed his mind.

  "Officer, if you don't mind, could you tell me what happened?"

  She gave him the 30 second version, as she had several dozen times over the phone to friends and family.

  "And were you around the other time?"

  "Other time?"

  "Yes, about, oh-" He paused. She would have been a child, no, she probably hadn't even been born yet, "Oh, never mind. It was before your time."