James BeauSeigneur: In His Image James

In quick strides Christopher reached the door of the Security Council Chamber and burst through, followed closely by Decker and Milner. For a moment the members stared at the intruders. Everyone knew Decker but they had not seen Milner in a year and a half, and the change in Christopher was more than the hair and the beard; his whole demeanor had changed. When he recognized Christopher, Gerard Poupardin, who sat some distance from Moore, looked over at another staffer and laughed, "Who the hell does he think he is: Jesus Christ?"

Christopher seized the opportunity provided by the startled silence. "Mr. President," Christopher said, addressing the Canadian ambassador who sat in the position designated for the President of the Security Council. "Though I have no desire to disrupt the urgent business of this body in its goal of providing relief to the peoples of India, Pakistan, China, and the surrounding countries, there is one among us who is not fit even to cast his vote among an assembly of thieves, much less this august body!"

"You're out of order!" Moore shouted as he jumped to his feet. "Mr. President, the Alternate from Europe is out of order." The Canadian ambassador reached for his gavel but froze at the sheer power of Christopher's glance.

"Gentlemen of the Security Council," Christopher continued.

"You're out of order!" Moore shouted again. Christopher looked at Moore and suddenly and inexplicably Moore fell back into his chair, silent.

Christopher continued. "Gentlemen of the Security Council, seldom in history can the cause of a war be traced to one man. On this occasion, it can be. One man sitting among you bears nearly the total burden of guilt for this senseless war. That man is the ambassador from France, Albert Moore."

Moore struggled to his feet. "That's a lie!" he shouted.

Christopher stated the charges against Moore.

"Lies! All lies!" Moore shouted. "Mr. President, this outrage has gone on long enough. Ambassador Goodman has obviously gone completely mad." Moore could feel his strength returning. "I insist that he be restrained and removed from this chamber and that… " Moore once again fell silent as Christopher turned and pointed, his arm fully extended toward him.

"Confess," Christopher said in a quiet but powerful voice.

Moore stared at Christopher in disbelief and began to laugh out loud.

"Confess!" Christopher said again, this time a little louder.

Abruptly, Moore's laughter ceased. The panic in his eyes could not begin to reveal the magnitude of his torment. Without warning he felt as though his blood were turning to acid as it coursed through his veins. His whole body felt as if he were on fire from the inside.

"Confess!" Christopher said a third time, now shouting his demand.

Moore looked in Christopher's eyes and what he saw there left no doubt as to the source of his sudden anguish. He stumbled in pain and caught himself on the table in front of him. Blood began to trickle from his mouth and down his chin as he bit through the tender flesh of his lower lip; his jaw clenched uncontrollably like a vice under the unbearable agony. Gerard Poupardin ran toward Moore as those near him helped him to his seat.

The pain grew steadily worse. There was no way out. "Yes! Yes!" he cried suddenly in excruciating anguish, as he pulled free of the grip of those helping him. "It's all true! Everything he has said is true! The war; Ambassador Lee's death; the plan to kill Kruszkegin; all of it!" Everyone in the room stared wide-eyed in disbelief. No one understood what was happening, least of all Gerard Poupardin. But everyone heard him – Moore had clearly confessed.

Moore hoped only that his confession would bring relief from his torment, and in that he was not disappointed. No sooner had he finished his confession than he fell to the floor, dead.

Someone ran for a doctor and for about fifteen minutes the chamber was filled with confusion, until finally Moore's lifeless body was taken from the room.

"Gentlemen," came a somber voice from near the spot where Moore had fallen. It was Christopher. "A quarter of the world's population is dead or threatened by death in China, India, and the eastern portions of the Middle East. There is so much that must be done, and it must be done quickly. As indelicate as it may seem: with the death of Ambassador Moore, until France can send a new ambassador and the nations of Europe can elect a new Primary, as Alternate from Europe, I am now that region's acting Primary representative. Gentlemen, let us get to the business at hand."

The coroner's report would find that Albert Moore died of a massive heart attack, brought on, it seemed, by the tremendous burden of guilt for what he had done. For Decker, no explanation was necessary: Christopher had begun to exercise the unexplored powers within him. He could only hope and pray that these powers would be equal to the challenges the world would soon face as Christopher led mankind into the final stage of its evolution and into the dawn of the New Age of humankind.

James BeauSeigneur has been writing professionally for eighteen years. His published works include technical manuals on strategic defense and military avionics, newspaper and magazine articles, speeches for U.S. Congressional and Senatorial candidates, and lyrics for several published songs. Formerly involved full-time in politics, Mr. BeauSeigneur has managed several U.S. Congressional and Senatorial campaigns and in 1980 ran for U.S. Congress against Al Gore. He has four years of experience in military intelligence, including two and a half years with the National Security Agency. Mr. BeauSeigneur and his wife, Gerilynne, have two daughters, Faith and Abigail.