IN DEVELOPMENT - "Local Event Chapter 7"

Local Event – CHAPTER 7

The Core

Sal surveyed the tiers before her. Except for the three nearest, the rows were unoccupied and unlighted. Not since before its activation had this room been this dark, this quiet.

She lit a cigarette, pulled the smoke into her lungs, and then performed a second survey, considering the people who occupied the active stations. All of them were looking at her, waiting. There was no talking, no interplay between co-workers. She didn't see any of the behaviors she was used to seeing. As far as she could tell, there was no activity of any kind.

The vetting process of the protocol had thinned her ranks considerably. There was nothing to be done about it, though. What lay before them was far too important to waste time wishing things were different.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, she thought, jetting streams of smoke from her nostrils.

Invoking the protocol had had another, and to Sal, more important, effect. Now under the control of the military, The Core had returned to its calling. She was finally freed from having to kowtow to those harpies on the Hill.

She was pleased that both Hardiwick and Jenson had survived. She felt she was going to need their sharp minds, and their competitive relationship, if they were going to accomplish the new objectives.

Keying commands into her console, she looked back up at the tiers and said, “I’m sure you have many questions about the events of the past several hours, so let's hear them."

For a second, the unnatural quiet continued. Then, they all started talking at once. The questions flooded out of them, voices rising and falling, tumbling over one another like whitewater. Sal watched their faces, content to let the system record and organize their queries. Mostly what she saw was concern. What she did not see-- and this pleased her greatly-- was fear. She noted with interest that Jenson did not speak. Their eyes met, held, and in that long instant she sensed that he did have a question for her. When he was ready.

The cacophony of voices finally settled, and Sal took a look at her console screen. She made a few entries, added numerals, and told the system to re-sort the questions based on them. Once done, she checked it to be certain she had it the way she wanted. Then she stood and walked to the center of her platform.

Using a handheld control, she ordered the system to display the questions on an eight-by-ten grouping of the forward screens. As soon as the giant words formed on the screens, she started talking.

"Lucerno asks where everyone else is. The short version, Andrea, is this: your co-workers have all been sent home for a two-week administrative leave, with pay. Sometime during the two weeks, each will receive a package from the Office of Personnel Management. OPM will be assigning them to a variety of different positions within the federal government. None of them will return to The Core."

This caused a fresh round of questions, which Sal ignored.

"Templeton's question was, 'What was that all about?' Well, Frank, assuming you’re asking about the Protocol, you'll have to wait on your answer." Glancing up at the questions, Sal studied them, then made a decision. "In fact, now that I think about it, there's something I need to tell you before I address any more of your questions."

“There is one way to skip the balance of this meeting. What I can do, if you want to leave, is place you in a holding facility for the duration of our project. It is a very nice place in Western Virginia, a hotel of sorts run by the CIA. There’s tennis, golf, etc. . . . well, in season. I guess these days its mostly indoor activities.

"Contact with the outside world is strictly controlled by those in charge. Your loved ones would be told that you were being treated for delusions and paranoia. And, considering the magnitude of the task before us, you might very well spend the rest of your life there.”

Sal could see the looks of disbelief on their faces, some of them, anyway. Other expressions were frozen.

“I wish I could give you more time to mull this over, but I don’t have it to give. Anyone want to leave? Tell me now.”

No one moved.

“OK. Good. Let’s get started. I need for you to understand why you're here and why your absent co-workers are not. It's essential to our new mission that you fully understand. I am about to raise your security clearances, considerably. Once you hear what I have to say, you'll know why.

"To answer Frank's question, the ‘Majestic’ security protocol was formulated shortly after what was generally known as the Roswell Incident, circa 1947. A lot of lessons were learned from the Roswell debacle. Perhaps the most surprising revelation from the entire disaster, and there were far more surprises than there should have been, was the discovery that those people who had the greatest degree of convergence in recall were, in fact, wrong."

Seeing confusion in their faces, Sal said, "Let me back up and break that down for you. Ninety-one years ago, something crashed into scrubland; desert really, about 70 miles outside of Roswell, New Mexico. This was shortly after the end of World War II. There was a lot of concern at that time about the possible resurrection of a recently defeated group of Germans called Nazis. Of equal concern was the emerging super power, the Soviet Union.

"In that atmosphere of heightened distrust, the crash landing of an unidentified object in a sparsely populated area was strange enough to garner the attention of top military leaders."

"Wonder what it was?" The voice that came out of the speaker array was male and heavy with sarcasm. Sal saw the Core remainders (she'd have to find a better name for them than that) looking all around, each trying to determine who had made the remark. She simply searched the crowd until she found the most surprised expressions; Powell and Fischer.

"Mark, you need to turn your mike off." Both had the grace to blush, and that satisfied Sal.

"What they discovered, physically, is not the topic of this briefing. Our concern is with the intangible. One of the first activities of the military, once the sites were secured, was to interview all possible witnesses."

She walked to the console and chucked the tail end of her cigarette at the incinerator. It bounced off the 'Thanks For Not Smoking' decal someone had placed just above the opening. Sal was already striding back across the platform when the butt dropped through the hole.

"First, what most observers thought had occurred, had not. In addition, the military learned that the delay of even a few days had allowed enough interaction between observers to blur the memory of events surrounding the ‘crash’.

"While these ‘false’ memories proved useful to the United States government in shielding the populace from the reality of Roswell, and even taking into consideration the technological and scientific enormity of what was gained from the crash, one of the most important lesson learned was one of control."

Sal paused to see if she still had everyone's attention. She looked pointedly at Fischer and Powell.

"Memory can be a strange thing. Most significantly, it is not very dependable. The human psyche has such a great need for order that it will actually invent memories to accomplish that end. This was the first and some think the most important of the intangibles brought away from Roswell.

"As a result, the first goal of the Majestic protocol is to separate the observers before they have an opportunity to corrupt each other’s memories of the event. The second goal is to determine, as accurately as possible, just what it is people think they have observed."

She could see in their faces that they were remembering what they had experienced over the past day and a half. To accomplish the first goal, Sal had directed the Marine contingent, normally tasked with Core security, to separate her staff into groups of two or three. The staff were then instructed to maintain silence until told otherwise.

An armed Marine was assigned to each group to ensure their compliance. While everyone else waited, secured in rooms throughout the complex, Sal subjected herself to the protocol. Then, Sal and a panel of military psychologists interviewed The Core personnel, one by one.

"Think back, now, to our last observation in Kara Powers' apartment. Of our original group, over 60% indicated they had observed the two men utilizing a device to cloak themselves; pointing, using, engaging some thing that made them invisible to The Core’s sensors. Some simply described the device; others produced drawings of varying degrees of professionalism."

Even knowing of the protocol’s premises, Sal had been astounded at the high degree of similarity among the descriptions.

"In the case of the crime scene, though, it was fairly simple to compare memories to facts. The entire series of events had been recorded, right down to breath sounds and heartbeats. No such device was evident in the record.

"That brings us to why you're here. Each of you described what you actually observed, despite the fact that it might defy credibility. Your absent colleagues brought something to the events that was not actually present.”

Pausing to collect their eyes, Sal raised her voice slightly. She couldn't lose them now. "We're going to find these two men, and we're going to discover how they did what they did. Also, we're going to find out what they have to do with the dead woman. I'm going to divide you into three teams. The FIN team will track down those two men and will be led by Mark Jenson. The CRIME team will start at the crime scene and follow whatever leads they develop. They will be led by Melanie Hardiwick. The CONTROL team will work here, with me, to coordinate and support the two field teams."

With a gleam in her eyes, Sal said, "And, because I think you folks should ask questions, Powell and Fischer will co-lead that team." Noting the surprise of almost everyone, she thought, Good, that ought to keep them guessing.

"Check your screens for your assignments and group yourselves by team. I'll meet with each team, in turn, starting in one hour. Team leaders, join me down here in fifteen minutes."

Sal truly loved the bustle and hustle of the groups sorting themselves out into teams, preparing for the mission. And so, for a few minutes, she just sat and watched her crew, and let it all wash over her.