John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

“During these prayers…during the long days and nights which have passed since Neve’s death…I have come to a conclusion.”

Walked paused once more. For the first time, rather than falling into another absent gaze, he directed his eyes to the lens of the lone camera, shared by all of the television networks for their video feed.

“I would like to place before the American public the idea…the belief…that no civilized country can consider itself such without offering an alternative to those who have lost all hope. I am proposing that we build a place…a sanctuary…open to all who may need it, where they may go when they have nowhere else to go. It would be a haven for the desperate, a refuge for those who cannot see another way.”

Walker paused to take another sip of water before resuming. “For this concept to serve its intended purpose, the sanctuary must be free from any and all judgment of those who may enter. And it must be a place where one can go to escape the consequences of his or her own actions, no matter how extreme…no matter how heinous…those actions may have been.

“Over the next days, weeks, and perhaps months, I will meet with my friends and colleagues in the House and Senate. Together, we will attempt to forge the necessary legislation to effectuate the creation of this new place — an establishment which will operate under our aegis, to guarantee that each and every person, if faced with the most dreadful of choices, has a new, and I believe better, final alternative.”

Matt Clements watched the county electrical inspector as he replaced the screw securing the cover of the main breaker panel.

“Everything look all right, Ben?” he asked.

Ben Barnes tucked the screwdriver into the back pocket of his jeans and nodded, making a note on his inspection sheet.

“What else do you have on your list?” Clements asked, anxious to wrap up the final inspection and finally get home to his wife.

Barnes looked at him and grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re in a hurry to get out of here.”

Matt laughed and glanced around at the cavernous main electrical room, deserted except for the two of them. “I think twenty-three months in this place is long enough.”

The inspector, a retired general contractor who had built more than a thousand buildings in his career, set the clipboard on a transformer and slowly looked around the room. “This is a first for me. I’m sure for you, too.”

“What do you mean, Ben?”

“Have you ever built anything, especially anything this massive, knowing that after you walk out, you’ll never see the inside of it again?”

Chuckling, Matt quipped, “I hope I don’t.”

Barnes did not join his former general superintendent in the laugh, a somber expression remaining on his face. “I just don’t know about all of this. I’m not sure it’s right.”

Pulled down into his former employer and mentor’s mood, Clements fell silent.

Only moments passed before Barnes snapped back to the here and now. Picking up his clipboard, he scrawled a large X on the box next to “approved,” separating the bottom sheet from the two-part form and handing it to Matt.

They walked without the banter they normally shared, exiting the electrical room and turning down the main corridor toward the entrance. Their footsteps echoed back at them, amplifying the unease they both already felt as they made their way to the elaborate door system, which was currently secured in the open position.

For the last time…, Clements thought to himself, as he and Barnes passed through into the sunlight. Squinting against the brightness of the day, he saw the four members of the U.S. Marshals Service clustered around their point of egress, sweating. The Arizona sun is unforgiving enough this time of year, he thought, without compounding it by wearing black.

He was about to inform them that the final inspection was complete, when Barnes, without slowing his pace, announced, “That wraps it up, boys. It’s all yours.”

Stopping by the marshals, Matt called out, “Ben….”

Not breaking his stride, Barnes looked back over his shoulder at his old friend and said, “I’ll catch up with you later. Call me after you get home to Lisa.”

Matt watched as his friend climbed into the white truck with the county emblem on the door, started the engine, and promptly drove off.

One of the marshals — Clements had not bothered to learn their names — turned to him and inquired, “Is that it?”

His eyes still on the receding truck, he barely nodded, noticing that the rising heat from the pavement was now causing the shimmering effect known as a mirage. Barnes’ truck seemed to be suspended a foot or two above the asphalt, as it disappeared into the distance.

He looked away from the horizon and focused on the federal officer. “Yeah, as he said, it’s all yours,” he answered, holding up the final inspection.

“Well, you beat most of them,” the marshal said.

“Most of whom?”

“The other countries who followed Walker’s lead. According to the news, there are at least three other versions of Aegis going up overseas. The only country to get theirs built quicker was Japan.”

One of the other marshals tilted his head in the direction of a large temporary tent, which had been set up a hundred yards from where they stood. “I guess these folks will be happy to hear that the place is ready for them.”

Matt glanced at the tent. His tone somber, he commented, “There are even more here now than when I went inside this morning.”

“Yeah,” answered the marshal, “they just keep coming.”

Squinting once more in an attempt to see the faces of the gathered, Matt said quietly, “It feels like a funeral.”

“In a way, it is.”

The marshal turned to his men and instructed, “Okay. Go ahead and let them know. Escort them.”

The three men began to walk toward the group, when the lead officer cautioned, “Remember, all of you stop at the door. No one takes a step inside — unless you want to stay, that is.”

One of the three departing men turned back and gave their supervisor a look expressing his surprise at the last comment. One glance at his boss’s expression dissuaded him from any sort of a comeback remark.

As Clements and the marshal watched, the federal entourage reached the group. The assembled strangers immediately surged forward.

“My God,” Matt gasped, “they’re acting as though it’s opening day at a new shopping mall.”

His companion was silent for a time, before finally saying, “I guess I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t think anyone would take us up on this…whatever it is.”

The group, numbering more than a hundred, moved rather quickly in their direction. The two men had to step off the concrete walk to give them room.

Now getting a better look at their faces, Matt saw that they were all staring forward at the yawning maw of the entrance as they hurried past. They were a mixture of almost all ages, from teens to octogenarians.

He remembered his wife, Lisa, telling him that it had been decided there would be no formal ceremony for the opening and that all media coverage was banned. As he watched the strange group file past him, he decided this was probably a good idea. His mind visualized a gamut of broadcast reporters lining the walkway as these people entered, shoving microphones in front of their faces and shouting the usual tasteless and insensitive questions.

With a slight nod toward one of the members of the group, the marshal, in a near whisper, asked, “Why would someone that old be going in? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Letting out a sigh, Matt answered, “My wife has been following this pretty closely during the months I’ve been out here building it. In addition to being on the news, the story has been all over the Internet. I guess some people are opting to move in here because it’s a better alternative than what they’ve got.”