The test on this day was accelerated. 100 times the normal exposure was being beamed to a field of sprouts. The president watched as 10 technicians stood in the field as proof of this device’s safety for humans, while it killed the lifeblood of the flora and fauna around them. The president, however, was 300 yards away from the target.
“What is the principle behind the beam?” Hiccock asked, sitting ten feet from the president.
The head of the project, Professor Di Consini, explained the process to the president’s science advisor, who would have known this already if he weren’t chasing bad guys. “We modulate a band within the ultra-violet spectrum by the square of its base frequency. The wavelength variations dilate the photosynthesis receptors of the organism. This causes the protoplasm to disperse as in the natural life cycle of the plant cell.”
The president looked to Hiccock as a UN delegate would look to a translator for the interpretation of something a foreign dignitary had spoken.
“They put the plant through thousands of day-night cycles in a very short period of time, in effect accelerating the life cycle of the plant and bringing it to an early old age.”
“Precisely. Except it all happens without the plant maturing.”
“Wow, if you could lick that, you could grow forests overnight!” Hiccock blurted out, impressed.
“Yes, we got here trying to make a ‘super grow light’ if you will. All we managed to do was to kill the plants without them growing at all. Unfortunately. the laws of thermodynamics prohibit us from also accelerating the maturity process which would have led to growth.”
“So the plants die of old age on the inside while never sprouting on the outside,” Hiccock concluded.
“That’s why this is such a destructive device,” Di Consini said, topping off Bill’s observation.
“Are there any downsides to this process, Professor?” the president inquired.
“Just one. Photosynthesis creates oxygen from carbon monoxide. Thus the accelerated oxygen production also starves the plants of monoxides, contributing to their early demise.”
“But you are also creating an oxygen-rich environment as a by-product,” Hiccock pointed out.
“Exactly, and that can aid a spontaneous combustion.” Di Consini liked Hiccock. He was smart.
“So, will a target field suddenly combust into an inferno?” The president caught the drift of the conversation between the two scientists.
Di Consini resisted the temptation to coddle the president too much for following the science jargon. So he didn’t say, “Why yes, my boy, I think you’ve got it!” Instead he flatly informed him, “It’s possible, given a windless day, high solar heat, or electric storm. We found that if we slow the process, we also reduce the combustible risk, but lengthen the kill time.”
“I see.” The president pondered this as he observed the field being bombarded by silent, invisible plant killing rays.
Di Consini continued, “Sir, we are 10 minutes into this hi-powered test. Each ten-minute segment roughly equals a week under normal exposure. Six weeks in application or 60 minutes in this test will kill off approximately 98 percent of the crop.”
“Hiccock, do you see any downside?”
“Three big issues sir; one practical, one legal, the other ethical.”
“Go on,” the president urged, impressed at the speed with which Hiccock’s mind had processed this new invention and already categorized and outlined his thoughts into three distinct talking points.
“The professor has given us a powerful weapon. Legally I would think it amounts to an act of war against the country we point it at. I would imagine we must keep this totally top secret or the planters can cover their crops or farm hydroponically in caves or underground. But lastly, this can be used to throw a country into famine, sir — turning green fertile fields into dust bowls. Will we ever be tempted to turn off the food supply of a country whose politics we don’t like?”
“Bill, that’s why I like keeping you around. You never let the fact that I am your boss sugar coat your logic.”
“I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, sir. But will your successors be tempted?”
The president mulled this over as he watched the field of sprouts through binoculars and the 10 “guinea pigs” standing out there being, what was it? — Modulated.
Hiccock saw this as his chance to make his call. “Sir, I need to make a call. I’ll be right back.” Hiccock stepped some thirty feet away and tried to use his cell but got no signal. Then he remembered “the bubble.” The Secret Service was experimenting with an electronic jamming device that would make it impossible for anyone to signal or give real time intelligence to any would-be conspirators using an ordinary cell phone, or other electronic surveillance equipment. So he went inside the building and asked permission to use the phone on a secretary’s desk.
“Thank you for remembering,” Carly spoke through the receiver.
“I only have a second,” Hiccock said as he placed her number back in his wallet.
“So can you tell me what you’ve briefed the president on today?”
Hiccock held the phone out and looked at it like he just heard a squealing noise. “Carly, is that one of those stupid questions reporters just have to ask in case your subject has an instant brain tumor and forgets what this is all about?”
“Come on, Bill, give me something. I go on the air in three minutes.”
“Nothing like cutting it close, huh?”
“I promise. I will credit whatever you tell me to an anonymous high-placed administration official.”
“Okay. The president is considering asking Congress for additional funding for homeland security to raise the level of preparedness of our National Guard and Coast Guard,” Hiccock informed her, knowing the president himself had told 10 members of Congress this already and they would probably beat Carly to the air in the next two minutes to blab it to their constituents. By tomorrow it would be old news. But it gave her what she wanted. Bill still didn’t know why he wanted to give her anything at all. She was cute; still, she showed no interest in him. He was just being a little silly here and he knew it. But she was cute!
Carly didn’t care about the questionable value of the “insight” she was getting from her “high-placed source;” she looked at her cell phone hoping the number would appear. Instead it read “private call,” meaning the caller ID feature had been turned off at the other end.
“How much, Bill?”
“58 billion but you definitely didn’t hear that from me.”
“I understand.”
“Look, I got to get back. This squares us right?” Hiccock said as he started pulling the phone from his ear.
“For what?”
“For whatever reason I feel the need to help you.”
Carly laughed, “See ya around, Bill.” She pressed end then called her cousin Harry.
“Harry, can you tell me where the last call on my phone came from?”
It took about one half of a minute, then she heard Harry say, “Got it,” with some satisfaction. “He was on a land line, real simple. Arco Systems and Design, Alexandria, Virginia.”
“Thanks, honey. Love ya, bye.”
She had 30 seconds ‘til airtime. Just enough to rehearse her opening line as she checked her hair in the news van window.
“Carly, 15 seconds!” The cameraman informed her.
She adjusted her blazer and planted her feet. She turned around and checked her background. The portico of the White House was right behind her.
“Stand by,” her cameraman said.
Carly waited to see the tally lights on the BetaCam camera nestled on her cameraman’s shoulder. Although he was rolling tape, the feed from the camera was simultaneously being up-linked to a microwave tower in D.C. It was then routed through the master control switcher in the D.C. control room of MSNBC. From there it went by broadcast cable to their satellite up-link facility in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Through 130 miles of space, up to Weststar 7. Known in the business as a bird, the satellite sits in geo-synchronous orbit above the equator, capable of distributing broadcast signals to thousands of dishes around the country and the world.