Stable on his windsurf, it was obvious that it was a child’s play for him not only to balance on the board but to harness it to any wish of his. He loved riding this wooden board with a sail among either the calm or the madness of the sea. He had never felt any fear of the elements or the ocean, he would rather be scared of the empty bay early in the morning and the lack of an audience. However, on rare occasions like today he rode alone without any company in the water and with no watchers on the beach. He listened to the wind and his thoughts again went to Margaret.
Then he noticed the boy shouting and waving excitedly at him. Obviously, the people from that TV show had called at last. Abruptly and confidently he turned around the sail and started for the beach.
The house grew bigger on the horizon, while the shouting of the kid got louder and more distinct:
“Alan, Alan… Alan…”
Well, what was the rush, couldn’t they just leave a message and he would call them back after having had lunch?
“Alan, there is a phone call from Washington for you. They said it was urgent and you’ve got to come to the phone immediately.
Oh, so these are not the people from the TV show then.
Well, whatever, politicians paid handsomely as well, moreover they were indispensable in problem situations which were happening ever more often lately.
“Alan, Alan… They said it was of the utmost importance…” the boy kept talking from the beach, employing all the force of his newly found man’s voice.
Ah, again these pre-election stories and who’s going to support me for this show? When they need you during an election campaign, they hang around to woo you, but as soon as they are already in the Congress and you ask for a favor, they stop answering their phones… As if Margaret is better or smarter than me, being a host of her own TV show.
He stepped on the beach at last, threw the windsurf on the sand and started for the house. The kid walked next to him and did not stop talking something about ‘importance for all humanity’, ‘grave national security issue’ and such. Alan did not listen to him, he was more worried that he would most probably wave his holidays goodbye.
He entered the house, the water from his bare feet leaving little pools on the wooden floor.
He went to the carved desk in the corner, picked up the receiver and in a second was totally speechless.
“Mister Parker, we have a 4th degree alert.”
“Beg your pardon?!”
“An accident, sir…”
“No way, please repeat, you mean there is penetration?”
“That’s right, 4th full A, sir.”
“Send me a plane, I’m coming right now.”
And he hung up. He looked at the pink sky and said to himself: For Christ’s sake, how could I not guess it earlier? God, have mercy upon us.
“Hey, Mitya, did you see this?”. Alena stopped the snowmobile, raising a cloud of snow, switched it off and rushed into the base.
“Alya, what’s going on? I saw them too”, Dmitriy said, typing feverishly on the keyboard without averting his gaze from the figures on the screen.
“The rock went crazy! There are electric impulses in the atmosphere… Mitya, it’s something huge… Great! Have you seen the sky? All pink like in a child’s drawing…”
“Yes… I’ve never witnessed anything like this before”, he almost shouted. “Wait and see what earthquakes the Aussies experience… And it’s not just them… the entire South Pacific is shaking in every direction like mad…”
“Send the report to Moscow right now and then let’s go and look”, Alena said, already punching a number on the satellite phone…
Daily report to Moscow Institute of Hydrometeorology
During the last three days abnormal values of the electromagnetic and radiation fields were measured around the South Pacific.
We need some new measurements for comparative analysis that might confirm or deny present data. Possible interferences in the measuring devices because of meteorological anomalies and fluctuations in power supply. Detected hurricane winds with velocity of over 120 mph in the region of the South Pole with direction East-Northeast.
Data herewith enclosed.
Possible inaccuracy: up to 100%.
“Prof. Hans Rosenstein, PhD, Mathematics”.
That was what the plate on the laboratory door read. The cold diode light of this plate had always annoyed him, he probably thought it two small and insignificant to encompass all of his scientific titles.
The telephone on the desk was like those in old movies – with a huge and elegant receiver of genuine wood, a cable and figures under a moving metal dial. He liked it, not being a fan of new technologies in everyday life, and even though his own discoveries had advanced the introduction of a number of modern devices, he preferred the cool receiver of the old and heavy telephone to the gaudy multicolored smartphones.
He enjoyed the touch to real materials: the polished fragrant wood of his pipe or the heavy thick fountain pen. He adored good old times when everybody knew his place and science was not used for mass enrichment. He remembered his university professors whose aristocratic manners and devotion to the cause made him believe in genuine “benevolent” science.
Cold ringing.
“Professor Rosenstein?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“We have a 4th A accident, sir.”
“How bad is it?”
“Quite bad, sir.”
“I am coming right over.” He put sown the receiver, got up, slowly put on his plaid jacket and left the office.
“How are you, Harry?”
“I’m okay, thanks”, the Admiral replied, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, which virtually concealed his stern face.
“What’s with all that drama, Harry? Nobody’s telling me anything.”
“You’ll know soon enough, Alan.”
“We’ve known each other since the Gulf, Harry, won’t you even tell me what’s going on?” He started sounding somewhat nervous.
The Admiral looked down – the entire ship was visible in his feet, enormous, powerful, capable of destroying a whole continent. The bridge was above all and everything – the heart of the ship, a sacred place, where only the anointed were allowed. Alan was here due to his solid connections in Washington and to his military career, but to an old sailor from the Navy this jerk from the TV with his windsurf tan remained a clown and a funny bugger. He had orders to transport him as soon as possible to Cairo, moreover, with the utmost secrecy, but he was sick of those conceited, posh and phony semi-retired military guys, who just never stopped parading with their former ranks. And how could he ask so many questions? A true military person should know to keep his mouth shut.
“You served on a submarine, didn’t you, Alan?” The Admiral replaced his cigar to the other corner of his lips and gazed over the bridge. “At least that’s what your file says.”
“Harry, you know too well I served on the damn submarine and since when have you been interested in my file? Is that some official meeting or is the Navy just making fun of me?” Alan was starting to be seriously distressed.
“This is not a joke, Alan. My orders demand for me to know if you still remember how to navigate a submarine. Here, see it in print, if you don’t believe me.” The Admiral took a few sheets of paper out of the metal chest of drawers, waved them briefly before Alan’s eyes and then put them back.