Greg Bear - The Forge of God

“Can we ask you to postpone your speech, Mr. President?” Schwartz asked. “Until we are more sure of our position?”

“You already have almost two months. I do not know to the day when the speech will be delivered, Irwin. But once it becomes clear to me when I must speak, it will not be postponed. I must go with my convictions. Ultimately, that’s what this office is all about.”

The four of them stood in the hallway outside, their half hour concluded, clutching copies of the NSA report.

“Fat lot of good my being here did,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” Schwartz said.

“He’s going to be very effective on television,” Hicks said. “He almost convinces me.”

“You know the worst of it?” Arthur asked as they left through a rear door, Schwartz following them out to their cars. “He’s not crazy.”

“Neither are we,” Schwartz said‹

An hour after they left the White House, Hicks, Arthur, and Feinman ate lunch at Yugo’s, a steak and rib restaurant favored by those in the know, despite its location in one of Washington’s less decorative neighborhoods. They ate in silence, Hicks finishing his plate while Arthur and Harry barely picked at theirs. Harry had ordered a salad, a wilted and blue-cheese-overloaded mistake.

“We’ve done everything we can,” Arthur said. Harry shrugged.

“What next, then?” Hicks asked. “Carry on scientists?”

“We haven’t been shut down,” Harry said.

“You’ve just been ignored by your Chief Executive,” Hicks commented dryly.

“You’ve always been the odd man out here, haven’t you?” Harry said. “Now you know how we feel. But at least we had a definite niche to fill.”

“A role to play in the grand comedy,” Hicks said.

Harry began to bristle but Arthur touched his arm. “He’s right.” Harry nodded reluctantly.

“So begins phase two,” Arthur said. “I’d like for you to join us in a larger effort.” He stared at Hicks.

“Outside the White House?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve made plans.”

“My plans take me back to Los Angeles, and nowhere else,” Harry said.

“Harry will consult,” Arthur said. “Presidents’ minds can be changed any number of ways. If the direct approach doesn’t work…” He smoothed his fingers across the granite-patterned Formica tabletop with a squeak. “We work at a grass-roots level.”

“The President’s a shoo-in, as you say…” Hicks reminded.

“There are ways of removing standing presidents. I think, once he makes his speech—”

Harry sighed. “Do you realize how long impeachment and a trial would take?”

“Once he makes his speech,” Arthur continued, “all of us at this table are going to be in big demand on the media circuit. Trevor, your book is going to be the hottest thing in publishing…And we’re all going to be on talk shows, news interviews, around the world. We can do our best…”

“Against the President? He’s a very popular figure,” Hicks said.

“Schwartz hit the nail on the head, though,” Arthur said, picking up the tab from its plastic tray. “Americans hate the thought of surrender.”

Hicks looked over the neatly folded clothes in his suitcase with some satisfaction. If he could pack his belongings with dignity and style, while all about him hung their laundry out to dry…

The number of stories about the self-destruction of the Australian aliens and the Death Valley mystery had declined in both newspapers and television. Election eve was gathering all the attention. The world seemed to be taking a deep breath, not yet consciously aware of what was happening, but suspecting, anticipating.

Hicks jumped as the desk phone beeped. He answered with a nervous jerk of the handset, fumbling it. “Hello.”

“I have a phone call for Trevor Hicks from Mr. Oliver Ormandy,” a woman stated in pleasant, well-modulated midwestern American.

“This is Hicks.”

“Just a moment, please.”

“I’m pleased to speak with you,” Ormandy said. “I’ve admired your writings.”

“Thank you.” Hicks was too surprised to say much more.

“I believe you know who I am, and the people I represent. I’ve been discussing some things with the President, as a friend and advisor…sometimes, as a religious counselor. I think we should meet and talk sometime soon. Could you make a space in your schedule? I can have a car pick you up, bring you back, no difficulties there, I hope.”

“Certainly,” Hicks said. “Today?”

“Why not. I’ll have a car pick you up at one.”

Precisely at one, a white Chrysler limousine with a white landau roof drove up in the hotel loading zone and Hicks climbed in through the automatically opened door. The door closed with a quiet hiss and the driver, a pale, black-haired young man in a conservative dark blue business suit, smiled pleasantly through the glass partition.

Snow lay in white and brown ridges, rucked up at the street edges by plows. This was one of the coldest and wettest falls in memory. The air smelled unusually sharp and clean, intoxicating, pouring against his face through the window, opened a small crack by the driver at Hicks’s request.

The car took him out of the concentric circles and confusing traffic loops of the Capital and into the suburbs, along expressways lined with young skeletal maples and out to country. An hour had passed when the Chrysler turned into the parking lot of a modest motel. The driver guided him through the lobby to the second floor and knocked on a room at the rear comer of the building. The door opened.

Ormandy, in his middle forties and balding, wore black pants and a gray dress shirt. His face was bland, almost childlike, but alert. His greeting was perfunctory. The driver closed the door and they were alone in the small, spare room.

Ormandy suggested he take an armchair by a circular table near the window. Hicks sat, watching the man closely. Ormandy seemed reluctant to get down to business, but since he could obviously manufacture no small talk, he turned abruptly and said, “Mr. Hicks, I have become very confused in the past few weeks. Do you know what is happening? Can you explain it to me?”

“Surely the President—”

“I’d like you to explain it to me. In clear language. The President is surrounded by experts, if you know what I mean.”

Hicks drew his lips together and leaned his head to one side, organizing his words. “I assume you mean the spacecraft.”

“Yes, yes, the invasion,” Ormandy said.

“If it is an invasion.” Now he was being overly cautious, reluctant to be pushed into conclusions.

“What is it?” Ormandy’s eyes were childlike in their openness, willing to be taught.

“To put it bluntly, it seems that we’ve fallen in the path of automatons, robots, seeking to destroy our planet.”

“Could mere machines do such a thing?” Ormandy asked.

“I do not know. Not human-made machines.”

“These are Godlike powers you’re discussing.”

“Yes.” Hicks started to rise. “I’ve been over all this with the President. I do not see the point in bringing me here, when you’ve advised the President to act contrary to—”

“Please sit. Be patient with me. I’m hardly the ogre you all think I am. I am way out of my depth, and just two nights ago, that really came home to me. I’ve talked with the President, and made my conclusions known to him…But I have not been at all sure of myself.”

Hicks sat back slowly. “Then I presume you have specific questions.”

“I do. What would it take to destroy the Earth? Would it be significantly harder than, say, destroying this place called Europa?”

“Yes,” Hicks said. “It would take much more energy to destroy the Earth.”