by Geoff Wolak
‘How did you get to that world?’ Susan asked, a logical question
‘A special portal was produced, a high-powered portal, and one with with some risks; it would only be open and stable for a minute. I had studied the language of the micro-portal site, South Africa, assuming that expeditions would travel to the South Pole from there. I was mistaken, and Chile would have been a better option.
‘But after being in South Africa for many years I stumbled across a group planning a base under the ice, a military research base, and I infiltrated them by killing and replacing a team member. My aim was simply to be on the ice at a certain time, in a certain place, but infiltrating that group was … fortuitous.’
‘You didn’t kill our people,’ I pointed out.
‘I would not have killed the other man, except that I needed many years in his place. It was not something I desired to do.’
‘And that device to contact your world?’ I nudged.
‘If I build it - and signalled too soon - it may attract the others … here.’
‘We’ll wait till we’re ready,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Hoping we don’t get a visit anytime soon.’
‘We’re developing some new toys to fire at them,’ I warned. ‘They may just get a shock.’
‘Fortunately, the Seethan world is a long way off in portal terms,’ Jimmy suggested.
‘Do you know much about weapons?’ Susan asked Slumber.
‘Not as much as I would like, but I have ideas and directions, and I know roughly what our advanced weapons did. So, I have directives to give, and results to measure.’
Jimmy said, ‘I’ve devised a clever system for getting things done.’
And he had.
A week later we travelled across to Jimmy’s old world, to New Kinshasa, and set-up a meeting with the top officials, the other project bases video-linked in, such as Texas and Britain. Most of that world’s politicians were also linked in, as were many political leaders from other worlds.
Jimmy began, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, of many worlds. We are at the start of a new project, and a new level of cooperation for the nations and peoples represented here, as well as the peoples from many worlds and many times. We … have a common cause.
‘I’ve estimated twenty years for this project, although we have no idea how long it will take. If it’s ready in five years, then great; call us. In order to expedite this project I’ve designed a system, and we have some structures, a top down hierarchy. Those structures are related to this particular project, and do not attempt to take away anyone’s right to govern on this world. How you govern your own people, and how you cooperate on this project, are two separate things.
‘Marcus Blanco here is in overall charge of the project, and has worked as a volunteer project director with The Ark for forty years or more. He knows what he’s doing, and he has my confidence. I will set him the project parameters - he will implement them here, and coordinate the various teams and projects. National teams do not … have to take orders from him, but should coordinate projects so that we don’t re-invent the wheel. Marcus will, however, have under his control our best brains, and even our alien guide.
‘So, this is how it will work. Marcus will sit and plan projects and directions. His team of seven directors will then kick those ideas around until they’re happy with them. They will then present the planned projects to a team of fifty sub-directors, who will have an input and a vote. Each of the meetings, apart from the first one, will be video linked to anyone who wishes to watch; they’ll be a public forum. If the teams miss something, then an individual can send in a suggestion.
‘Once project components have been chosen, sub groups may bid for those projects, but many will be duplicated to see who comes up with the best idea. The most relevant team will get the project lead. That team will have a shadow team of experts, and when they sit down to plan – those experts will listen in. If something is missed, the planning sessions would be recalled and reworked.
‘There will also be a team of auditors, and they will travel around trying to prevent teams duplicating efforts too much, or re-inventing the wheel. They will try and prevent wastage during production and testing.
‘OK, the overall project will go as follows. First, we need detectors: we can’t fight a ship unless we can spot it, and spot it a long way off. That project will be split into low altitude, high altitude, orbital, and post-orbital. Once we have scanners that are worth a damn we’ll need tracking systems, systems that can predict where a ship may end up, and that system will coordinate weapons selection and firing. Firing too soon would be unwise, leaving it to late would be dangerous.
‘Having detected a ship, and tracked that ship, we would then wish to fire upon it, either to destroy it – or to disable it and capture it. We would next consider ground forces, and what we could do against advanced units. In fairness, I have learnt that our enemies don’t like to get their hands dirty, or to fight close up. That … is our advantage, because we have the Rifles.
‘Next, we need to consider weapons of mass destruction – in that we may be on the receiving end of them. Nukes, lasers, viruses, chemical weapons, incoming missiles, incoming portals dropping weapons. I am reliably informed that our enemy likes to fight dirty, but they don’t like to get close.
‘Finally, survival. We need to consider weapons stored in hardened underground facilities, or camouflaged, and we need to consider the survival of our people by going underground, or under the oceans, maybe for years on end. We have old submarines here, and they’ll need a new lease of life as modern instruments of survival. We require that you dig deep caves and practise living in them, as well as living in the oceans undetected. But, most of all, we require that you think outside the box, and come up with weapons that are … unusual, yet effective.
‘You carry our hopes and our dreams, and – when you contact us again – I hope we’re still around and in one piece. Thank you all.’
We toured many of the camps and research buildings, meeting people that were keenly forming groups and sub-groups. One group I stopped to chat with were all mathematicians, black Africans from Ebede, and they worked as a team, often finishing each others sentences. A difficult problem could be solved in minutes, not weeks. Another group I stopped to chat to were all support workers, in that they made sure the clever chaps were fed, housed, and had time for relaxation.
The volunteers also had a clever computer system that was a bit like the old Facebook website, but people posted questions on it – not social occurrences. If it was your relevant area you could receive the question, and could reply. It was just like the internet, in that you could find answers, but this time you’d have fifty thousand willing assistants to answer your question. If you posted, ‘What’s the melting point of titanium in a vacuum,’ you’d get three hundred responses in minutes. If you asked for a good sauce recipe for Cajun chicken, you might get three thousand responses.
We toured the city and inspired the troops and workers, as well as the citizens, then flew up to Mawlini. The base was a hive of activity, and suddenly we caught sight of a short bald fella barking at people.
‘Mac?’ I called.
‘Aye, who the fuck else would take on a job like this!’
‘What exactly is your job here?’ Jimmy asked him.
‘Running this airfield. Been here a week. And I got the golf course started!’
‘Good,’ Jimmy approved. ‘People need their down time.’
Mac led us off, and to the dated brick control tower, soon with cold beers in hands.
‘This tower is not that much different to the original,’ I noted.
‘Same position as well,’ Mac said, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
‘Any of the gang around?’ I asked.
‘Rudd just arrived,’ Mac said with a smile. ‘Empire building again, although he did come here for a year some time ago. Couple of the old Rescue Force people around.’
‘Jack, Sykes?’ I asked.
‘He can play soldier for a while,’ Jimmy agreed.
We made our way over to the rooftop bar, and I stared out at the activity, wondering where the years had gone. And where that innocence had gone. I greeted a few familiar faces, and we ate and drank till late into the night, under the stars.
In the morning I inspected a tented city, closely followed by a prefabricated city, soon watching an endless stream of solar powered cars coming through the portal.
Lobster stepped up to me. ‘This where the action is, sir?’
I turned. ‘Lobster!’ We hugged. ‘You still at it?’
‘I polish a seat with my arse,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Are you visiting, or…’
‘I have a posting here, my family now moved. A … twenty year posting as head of the African Rifles. Well, head of those that are not local, and subject to political oversight.’
‘Well, see if you can develop a few new weapons – and tactics.’
‘We shall fight the unknown enemy, and in a computer.’
‘Give those avatars hell!’
A slow pace
A week later I was back in the embassy, watching the rain hit the glass, and enjoying a slow pace of life. Except that my mind was elsewhere, and a part of me wanted to be on Jimmy’s old world, working on the project. Here, it was all politics, and the politicians displayed the IQs of ten year old children.
The hot summer had produced a few border skirmishes, fake and real, but no major campaigns. Bombers flew off to attack various enemy strongholds, but we made sure that few returned; it would look like they had been hit by enemy fire. That slow wear down of aircraft gave me hope, in that such expensive aircraft were hard to replace. Oil flowed south in good quantity, the Seethans pleased, and I could see that further areas of Wyoming could be negotiated away in time.
The Seether and Preether, quite foolishly, were allowing us to keep showing the cartoon films, the ones with the subliminal messages. The cinema audiences were steady, the viewing of the films widespread, and I now had college kids from many worlds producing films and sending them to me. We, at the embassy, would watch them first with Pleb, and ask Pleb questions afterwards. Our guinea pig would inform us what the message was. If we were happy with that message, the film would be released.
Then one day, Pleb asked a local car factory if he could buy it. We got to hear of it, and wondered where the hell Pleb got the money from. Turns out that Pleb meant for us to buy it, improve the cars, and then to sell them. The factory said yes, and the Seethan government said yes, and I linked in to Jimmy.
‘Car factory?’ Jimmy queried. ‘It … makes no difference really, and it works like the farm; they get taught by us. No, I don’t see an issue with that.’
I went off and bought the car factory, a run-down 1940s brick building with a basic assembly line. Our engineers moved over, and a few car specialists arrived, as well as professional translators. These new guys had taken a year to learn the language, and were now quite good at it. My instructions to the team were simple: day by day, section by section, improve the process, but not using computers or anything clever. Take them from 1940 to 1980, and slowly.
I visited again the police academy, now on its tenth intake of officers, and found that crime was down across the territory, right down. Our farmer, or rather our rancher, William Tucker IX, had gotten involved, and had taught the officers to ride, and now the Seethan police patrolled the hills and borders on horseback rather than on foot. I wasn’t completely sure that this was progress, since we now had gunslingers on horses, more 1850 than 1980.
My room had gained a few pictures, a few moody water colours, lilies on ponds, sunsets, landscapes, and a few new cabinets. It was now a little more homely. The windows were now double-glazed with bullet-proof glass, and the place should be warm this coming winter. Our ambassador, Henry, now actually had a full day’s work to occupy his time, and when he wasn’t working he tended his ornate garden. The Seethans had granted us more land, a hole knocked through a wall at the back, and we now benefited from large garages and enlarged grounds, a nice lawn laid out.
Then, one day, the world slowly stopped, and time froze. I stepped out to the lawn on a Saturday morning, every step taken in slow motion, unaware of just how events would unfold.
‘Hi, guys, what you doing?’ I asked the bodyguards.
They finished hammering in poles. ‘Football pitch. But we had to explain it to the Yank guards as soccer – not football.’
One passed me the black and white ball, and I kicked it back. ‘Count me in, I used to be good in school. I’m getting on a bit now, but I’d still kick your arses. And us Brits call it football and soccer, just to be confusing.’
Half an hour later my clothes were muddied and ripped, my face muddied and bruised, Henry stood shaking his head at the edge of the lawn.
‘We won,’ I told him. ‘Four- three.’
‘Are you not a little old, for soccer?’
‘Football,’ I correct him. ‘We invented the game, and it’s called football, not soccer, although we do call it soccer sometimes. And … you’re never too old for football,’ I quipped. ‘Besides, the guys need to let off steam.’
What I had not realised, was the magnitude of what we had done. Stood in the window of his room, Pleb had keenly observed some of the game. With the pitch now quiet, the lonesome ball left, he walked down and tapped it with his foot. He kicked it against the high wall of the embassy, brought it to a controlled halt, and then kicked it again.
In the morning, the guys were again playing, and I joined them, asking who had broken the window. None admitted to it.
Pleb stepped out. ‘I play like you, yes?’
‘Sure,’ I said, and passed him the ball. He dribbled past two guys and scored, leaving us stood staring at him.
‘It is win, yes?’ Pleb asked.
‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘You … played when a boy?’
‘I had small ball of pig bladder.’
We humans exchanged looks, and chose teams. Half an hour later, and Pleb had scored four times. Well, the universe had conspired to give this idiot two good feet, and great coordination. Seeing a Seethan gardener stood watching us, I called him out to play, and stood to one side. The gardener got the hang of it quite quickly, and was not too bad.
I found Henry at my side. ‘They have an ability to play football,’ I commented.
‘Might even break down a few barriers.’
‘What?’ I said after a few seconds.
We faced each other. Henry said, ‘Might break down some barriers, if the Seether played the Preether.’ He stared back at me. ‘Are you OK?’
I faced the game, slowly nodding to myself.
‘I know that look,’ Henry said. ‘What … exactly … have you in mind?’
I smiled at him. ‘What I have in mind … is football. Have you seen the Seether take part in any sports, recreational activities, anything?’
Henry adopted a puzzled frown, made a face, and finally shook his head.
‘It’s missing from their society. They work, they fight, and they’re told what to do.’ I nodded to myself. ‘We’ll have to go slowly, step by step.’
‘You … have some sort of plan, I’m guessing.’
I smiled widely. ‘Indeed I do.’
I sent in a request for footballs, boots of various sizes, shin pads, long socks, and football shorts and shirts. And twelve instructors.
Jimmy sent me a note. ‘What, pray tell, are you up to?’
I considered my answer. ‘In order to get the police officers working as teams, we play football.’
He came back with, ‘Sounds good. You know, in the future they have a great deal of sport on the TV. I had forgotten that.’
When the new football kit arrived I had much of it delivered to the police academy, and the following day stood in fron
t of the instructors there.
‘I want you to get them playing football. It will improve fitness, coordination, and – most importantly – team work.’
They liked the idea, and pinched a nearby field - whether the government liked it or not. They spent a few days removing rocks, flattening the area, and cobbled together wooden goal posts. The lines were a white powder, and the available area was about two thirds that of a full-sized pitch.
I travelled back up when they were ready for their first came, Pleb accompanying me. The police cadets, eleven of them, changed into the odd new clothes and wandered out onto the pitch looking a little bewildered. Pleb changed into his own allocated kit and called them together, soon giving instructions on how to play, and what to do. Our instructors stepped out in shorts and shirts, and limbered up. Still, this was a friendly game.
I stepped out to Pleb, and had him turn his shirt around, number on the back like the other players, the humans smirking.
Pleb started off the game, passing back the ball so that everyone on his side could tap it about a bit. There were no goal keepers yet, they would come next. Then Pleb led the attack, shouting instructions and passing the ball. Our guys took it easy on them to start with, the Seethan police getting used to tackling, and going around people. Minute by minute the pace picked up, as did the skill level of the Seethans, who loved the game from the start. They tended to bunch up and all go for the ball, but Pleb shouted instructions.
When the ball went off the pitch, Pleb would use the time to make plans and give tactical instructions, and after thirty minutes the quality of the game had improved. They still played like Sunday league divorced fathers, but this was their first time. After an hour they were sweating, so were our guys, and the tackles were getting harder. Still, both sides smiled when they tackled. With the score standing at six – four to our instructors, we called a halt, cold drinks needed. It had been a good first test, and the instructors pencilled in an hour each evening for a game.
Four football coaches were assigned to the police academy the next day, and they began simple training sessions, Pleb translating for us most days. Still, football could be demonstrated. Back at the embassy, I would sit down with a muddy Pleb, plus the rest of the Seethan staff and minders, and show a football match, a game from 1980s Britain chosen at random. Forget poker, the Seethans now sat transfixed, carefully watching every move, and they didn’t even grumble about the lack of hot chocolate. Henry sat observing the Seether, and turned to me, nodding with a smile.
