The Alternative

by Richard Dante

  TEN

  John Shipley stepped into the room. Parker and his escort entered behind him and Shipley heard the door close softly. The guards took positions to one side while Parker motioned the senior Senator to a chair. Before he honored the request, Shipley paused for a moment to study the unusual room. He’d never seen anything like it. The overall effect produced an atmosphere of comfort and warmth. There were several couches and arm chairs resembling those they’d used in the theater. the room was possibly thirty feet square. The dimensions were hard to determine due to it’s design, because the floors curved smoothly up to meet the walls. The carpets were woven of a soft plush material with no visible seam as they joined the walls and covered them, as well as the vaulted ceiling. Underfoot the floor gave the impression of walking on a firm mattress. the Senator smiled to himself at the thought, one could compare the room to a padded cell, or perhaps even a womb.

  Parker’s desk completely dominated the area. It was of unique design with added features that made it look more like a control console than a desk. Behind the freeform executive chair was a giant screen which appeared to be an integral part of the desk complex. It measured at least eight feet wide by six feet in height. The picture had the same three dimensional quality as the film they’d viewed earlier. Showing on the screen, clearly as if he was looking through a window, were the guests gathered in the ballroom. He saw several Primagnon guardsa few feet from their prisoners. The guards showed the crowd every consideration by not threatening them in any way and giving them plenty of breathing room. He also saw the man who had earlier acted as head usher. He held some papers as he conferred with the guards. Occasionally he nodded as he pointed out individuals in the crowd.

  The guests looked a little pale, but were calmer now, and talking quietly to one another. The sound of quiet conversation came from speakers hidden somewhere in the console.

  “Senator...do sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Parker invited. Yet, this time his tone was more insistent.

  The old man moved to a chair opposite the desk and sat down. He finally looked over at his host, now seated behind the desk. The Primagnon was pouring a drink from a dispenser that reminded the Senator of the soda fountains of his youth. Parker got up from his high back chair and came round the desk to where Shipley was sitting.

  Extending a tall glass to the old man, Parker said. “Here Senator, Please drink this.”

  “Thank you no, I believe I’ve consumed quite enough of you liquor for one evening.”

  “Not nearly enough,” laughed the Primagnon. “You were one of the more sensible ones. This isn’t alcohol. It’s much better for you and more beneficial. I want to have a talk with you and perhaps this will help you to relax. I know this evening has been traumatic for everyone. It was meant to be. Now it’s time to get to know one another.” Once again Parker extended the glass to the Senator.

  The contrast between kindly smile and firmness of tone gave Shipley the strange impression Parker was a sorcerer handing him some sort of hypnotic potion. He hesitated and then caught a slight menacing glimmer as Parker looked him squarely in the eye. Still he hesitated until Parker motioned to the guards to assist him. The Senator could sense the guards taking the position directly behind his chair and the hair on his neck began to rise. Finally he relented, and took the glass. He’d played the give-and-take game of diplomacy long enough to know instinctively it was time to give in.

  He looked at the glass before drinking and the liquid appeared a cool and inviting green. The edges of the container were frosted much like a mint julep. He moved the glass to his lips, took a sip and found it delicious. In fact, he’d never tasted anything quite so delectable. As it flowed inside him there was pleasant sensation of good Kentucky bourbon, but even more soothing. At first the effect was that of a mild alcoholic drink and a w arm glow came over him. He started to relax and took another sip, much larger this time. He felt years younger, and the constant nagging chest pain was gone.

  “There,” cooed the Primagnon. “Isn’t that better?”

  “Much, thank you,” responded the Senator, but he was still wary of his mysterious adversary.

  “Now that you are what I hope is in a more receptive frame of mind, I’d like to get down to negotiations.

  Ah, here it comes! thought Shipley.

  “Exactly.” replied Parker.

  This startled the Senator, for he hadn’t spoken aloud. He began to wonder what was in the drink. He’d already drunk about a third of the liquid before deciding he’d best keep a clear head. He set the glass on a small table nearby and rested his hands on the arm of the chair.

  “Yes, Senator. Thought reading is one of the many advantages of being Primagnon. As I told the assembly outside,” he said indicating the crowed on eh screen behind him. “This evening has been a test and we’ve been reading you all. We know everything about you. Every thought you’ve had from the time you were a child, until this very hour. You recall,I’m sure the metal arms on the seats in the theater? They are equipped with sensor devices that told us many things. The information was fed into our computers and we were able to analyze all your reactions to the evenings various crises. Each of you were subjected to nearly every trauma known to the human condition.”

  The Senator looked down at his chair and noticed the same metallic arms, with that same sensually warm feeling. He tried to raise his arms, but the green liquid had relaxed him and the effort seemed to much of a bother. He looked up again at the man at the desk, and Parker’s smile told him again he was aware of this thoughts. At the moment it didn’t seem to matter.

  “This little interrogation is also in the manner of a test, I’m afraid. I selected you to be interviewed first because you are the virtual leader of these people--as you have been for many years. Presidents come and go, but Senator Shipley goes on and on.” He chuckled. “What ‘s more important, the people love you, and except for a few like your Roger Bracken and our Primagnons, the government does pretty much what you want it to.”

  Parker smiled at the expression on the elder statesman’s face. “

  “Yes, senator, I think I said before, we are everywhere. All over the world. The troubles you’ve been having in the Senate lately has been our doing. We’re growing in power. we don’t have a Senate or House majority yet, but our members are most persuasive. Still, we do need you to fully implement out plans. We can, of course go ahead without you, but your endorsement would make the transition go more smoothly.”

  “Endorsement of What?” The Senator was drowsy, dulled by the green nectar, but nonetheless getting impatient with Parker’s long-winded prolog.

  “Very well, Senator. I refer to our takeover. We’ve waited centuries for this period in time; growing in strength and waiting. Preparing for this moment when the world would find itself in such a crippled condition the people would almost demand our takeover in order to save them.”

  Shipley was visibly disturbed by this information.

  “A World dictatorship? Impossible! The people...”

  “Not so impossible. The Russians dangled a carrot in front of the noses of deprived nations for years and their method worked quite well for a while. But now the Russians are out of the picture. The World needs help and we are the only ones equipped to provide it.”

  A frown furrowed the Primagnon leader’s brow. “Unfortunately, you and your young protégé, Dr. Miller, have muddied the water of our master plan. Your rain machine is similar to our method. A bit crude, I’ll admit, but similar. We aren't quite ready to unveil our system on a world wide scale, and your interference is most ill-timed.”

  “Of course, you should know your project will never succeed. Though the Bay Project is already operable, there is no way the populations of the world can be supported by your grand design. It’ s a utopian dream, Senator.”

  “Here, let me show you,” continued Parker as he pu
shed a button on the console on the right side of his desk.

  The ballroom disappeared from the giant screen and was replaced by one of the most appalling scenes the Senator had ever witnessed. A great thong of people stood before him. They were incredibly dirty, their hair matted with God knows what. the filth was the least pitiful part of their appearance. Their eyes, sunken into almost skull-like heads, held a haunted, empty look. Most were unable to hide their nakedness. Ribs stuck out above distended abdomens and made both males and females appear pregnant. So little flesh remained under the skin, the joints seems enormously enlarged and stuck out at odd angles. Most pitiful were the children. Even the youngest looked like withered old men and women. There was a pleading expression in the sunken eyes, so filled with misery, the Senator turned away.

  “This, Senator, is what the world faces in the near future.” He then switched to several other scenes of desperate humanity.

  The senator saw one of the shriveled children reach down and take something from the ground and stuff it hungrily into it’s mouth. The old man couldn’t swear what the youngster had eaten, but if it was what it resembled...the Senator felt the bile rise in he throat. Certainly no human being could ever be brought to such animalism. He turned to glare at Parker.

  “I’ve show you what will happen if nothing is done. The world’s condition will worsen. I can assure you of that.”

  He pushed another button the console and the picture changed to a shot of grain elevators in the foreground: fields and a warehouse and city in the distance. It was the activity in the foreground that held Shipley’s attention. A mob of men in tatters were advancing on a company of soldiers holding bayoneted rifles. The attackers carried weapons of all sorts: Guns, axes, shovels, baseball bats, kitchen knives. Anything that might serve as a weapon. Women and children cowered in the background; waiting, hoping and obviously starving. The leader of the attackers stopped his group about forty feet from the solders and spoke.

  “Please give us food. Our women and children are starving. Give us food and we’ll go away. We don’t want to hurt anyone. we only want food.”

  An army colonel stepped in front of the soldiers and faced the rabble leader.

  “Go back where you came from, we only have enough to barely feed this community. It’s rationed and only sufficient for our needs. We sympathize with you, but we have our orders.”

  The ragged leader cast the officer a pleading discouraged look and turned to his followers.

  “This Miller town is our last chance. We can’t continue without food. we must take a stand here while we have the strength.” He spoke quietly, urgently with a great sadness in his eyes. The men listened and some looked back to where their desperate families waited.

  “We’re with ya, George,” called someone from the mob.

  “Yeah, let’s get ‘em!” yelled another as the mob started to advance.

  “Hold your fire,” shouted the Colonel as his men leveled their rifles at the approaching horde. It was easy to read the fear in the soldiers’ eyes and the desperate determination of the ragged company they faced.

  The soldiers held their fire too long as they awaited the order that never came. The attackers were on them in moments and the Colonel was the first to be killed. A lucky slash of a butcher knife severed his jugular vein. What followed was the most obscene carnage imaginable. Limbs were hacked off, shots fired at close quarters did fatal damage to many. In moments it was a seething, bloody mass of uncontrolled violence. A child was hit by a stray bullet and lay bleeding, whimpering, dying it its hysterical mother’s arms.

  The woman bundled the dismenbered soldiers’ body parts in rags and carried them away as they left they scene of carnage.

  “Canibalism, Senator, is part of the world’s future picture--what will result if the Chesapeake Bay Project continues as planned. Plenty for some, starvation for most!”

  The Senator turned pale. He was shaken by the vivid tragedy displayed on the three dimensional screen. He reached for the drink beside him, and once more the liquid comforted him as he said.’

  “What you’ve shown me has been hiding in the back of my mind for some time. Many of our critics have brought it up. Yet, there is no other possibility as we see it.”

  “Ah, but there is, Senator” the Primagnon spoke with mounting enthusiasm. “ We are your salvation. We have planned this relief for centuries. And we’re almost ready. You and your associates can help us make the transition with a minimum of difficulty.”

  “What do you propose?” the Senator sighed resignedly.

  “The world of the next decade and the decades to follow cannot support all the peoples of the world. Even with our advanced technology, the population must be reduced by millions. Only then can the life force survive.”

  “I hope I don’t understand you correctly, Parker?” Shipley saw the terrible truth of the Primagnon plan. Was the liquid he’d been given to relax him so he’d be prepared for what followed?

  “Yes, unfortunately many must be eliminated.” the Primagnon Leader said, shaking his head dolefully. “The weak of heart, spirit and mind will have to be Passed On. The aged: mentally and physically deformed adults and children will have to be put aside”

  “But...What you are suggesting is not human!” gasped Shipley.

  “On the contrary. Our method of genocide is very humane. There is no pain and most of the unfortunates will be better off for it.”

  Shipley could barely believe his ears. Parker’s manner was so matter of fact, as if taking the lives of millions, possibly billions of people meant nothing to him. Just so many cattle to be slaughtered.

  “Senator,” continued the Primagnon after reading the old man’s thoughts. “Human life is of little importance. We must preserve the Life Force. That alone must go on. Only the fittest must survive if the world is to survive. This is the prime reason we played out little games this evening. To help us decide which of you cared only for yourselves. Which are the achievers, the ones who always come out on top, No matter who they have to step on to achieve their goals. These are he ones we are interested in having join us.”

  Shipley shifted uneasily in his seat. “Then you must know from your research, I am not your man.”

  “Yes, your life has been exemplary, yet we both know it is almost over. Soon this country will need someone to take your place. If you join with us now, perhaps we can let you make that choice. We do have the way to sustain life for long periods. Possibly you could go on being the--Grand Old Man!”

  “Grand old butcher, you mean!”

  Parker pushed the button on the console and the screen sprang to life once more. This time it showed a field of beautifully cultivated vegetables. Beyond were pastures where beef and dairy cattle grazed--a lovely pastorial scene. In the background the Senator could see a tall tower similar to the one at the Project.

  At the left side of the screen he could see many people advancing to the right. Another terrible sight; for they were like locusts, devouring everything in their path. the hungry horde completely denuded the field, leaving nothing behind.

  Suddenly a small plane flew over them and what looked like a cloud of smoke poured from it to settle slowly over the mob on the field. They cowered, screaming under it. The camera moved in for a close-up as the cloud reached the throng in time to see the horror on their faces--the last expressions as men, women and children fell, choking and retching their lives away in the dirt.

  “This is the way your plan will succeed Senator. We believe it’s far better to be selective and allow the chosen to die a peaceful sleep-like death.”

  The old man reached for the pills in his pocket. His hand was shaking so much he spilled several until he finally got one into his mouth and swallowed it down with the last of the liquid from the glass. Some of it ran over his chin as he desperately swallowed the potion.

  Parker started up out of his chair an
d held out a hand of caution.

  “I’m not certain those medications will mix, Senator!”

  The senior Senator’s eyes were bulging as he glared at Parker.

  “What do you want from me:” he gasped, struggling unsteadily out of th e chair.

  “We want you to help us save your country.” replied Parker.

  “But at such a cost? It can’t be worth it.”

  “It’s the only way,” Parker replied firmly. “You must see that. There was a pleading tone to the Primagnon’s request. “We want you to help us.’

  “You -- you’re insane,” the senator’s voice wavered as he shouted the words. “You’ll never get away with it. I’ll find a way to stop you if it takes my last breath. Believe me...I-I’ll stop you!”

  The primagnon leader looked sadly at the old man.

  “I...I’ll stop you!” and Shipley raised his fist defiantly at Parker. With anyone else the gesture would have appeared melodramatic, yet it fitted the great man perfectly.

  With his fist wavering in midair, a look of excruciating pain came into the eyes of the old statesman. His fist turned into a grasping hand that clutched at his chest. He tottered for a moment and then fell back, sliding halfway out of his chair. The two Primagnon guards rushed to help him. Parker stepped forward and stared down at the old man.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t see it our way, Senator.” the Primagnon appeared truly saddened by the impotency of the former powerful leader who was not completely helpless.

  “Kirk. Take Me to Kirk.” Shipley’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “Do as he asks,” ordered Parker. “Make him as comfortable as you can.”