Greg Bear - The Forge of God

Trevor Hicks listened from his Washington hotel room, the remains of breakfast spread on a serving tray at the foot of the bed. Just yesterday, he had learned that Mrs. Crockerman had moved to her flat permanently. Later that afternoon, he had heard the first rumors of David Rotterjack’s resignation.

The President-elect’s version of what happened in the Vandenberg laboratory was clear enough; he could find no fault so far.

“…And as I spoke with this being, this visitor from another world, the story it told me was chilling. I have never been so deeply and emotionally affected in my life. It spoke of a journey across ages, of the death of its home world, and of the agency of this destruction — the very vehicle which had brought it to Earth, now landed in Death Valley and disguised as a volcanic cinder cone.”

Ithaca called Harry in from the bathroom, where he had just finished taking his shower. She wrapped him in a thick terry robe as he stood before the television, feeling how warm his skin was. “Great fucking birds flapping in the air,” he breathed.

“What?” Ithaca asked.

“He’s making the announcement now. Listen to him. Just listen to him.”

“When I asked the Guest if it believed in God, it replied in a steady, certain voice, ‘I believe in punishment.’” The President paused, staring across the fully attended house. “My dilemma, and the dilemma of all my advisors, military and civilian, and of all our scientists, was simple. Could we believe that our extraterrestrial visitor and the visitors in Australia were linked? They told such different stories …”

There was a knock on Trevor’s door. He closed his robe and hurried to open it, hardly even seeing who was outside, his attention still focused on the television.

“Hicks, I owe you an apology.” It was Carl McClennan, dressed in a raincoat and clutching a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes, come in, come in.” Hicks didn’t bother to ask why McClennan was here.

“I’ve resigned,” McClennan said. “I read his speech last night. The bastard wouldn’t listen to any of us.”

“Shhh,” Hicks said, holding his finger to his lips.

“I wish that I brought news of some comforting solution to all who listen to me today. But I do not. I have never been a faithful churchgoer. Still, within myself I have held my own faith, and thought it wise, as the leader of this nation, not to impose this faith on others who might disagree. Now, however, through these extraordinary events, I have had my faith altered, and I can no longer keep silent. I believe we face incontrovertible evidence, proof if you will, that our days are numbered, and that our time on Earth — the time of the Earth itself — will soon be at an end. I have sought advice from those with more spiritual experience than I, and they have counseled me. I now believe that we are facing the Apocalypse predicted in the Revelation of John, and that on Earth, the forces of good and evil have made themselves known. Whether these forces be angels and demons, or extraterrestrials, seems to be of no importance whatsoever. I could say that I have spoken with an angel, but that does not seem literally true—”

“He’s even departing from his text. Damn him,” McClennan shouted, sitting with a bounce on the bed next to Hicks. “Doesn’t he understand what he’s unleashing? What social—”

“Please,” Hicks admonished.

“I can only conclude that in some fashion, our history on Earth has been judged, and we have been found inadequate. Whether the flaw lies in our bodies, or in our minds, it is clear that the history of human existence does not satisfy the Creator, and that He is working to wipe the slate clean, and begin again. To do this, He has sent mighty machines, mighty forces which could begin, at any moment, to heat this Earth in God’s forge, and beat it to pieces on a heavenly anvil.”

The President paused again. Raised voices on the floor of Congress threatened to drown him out, and the Speaker had to rap his gavel many long minutes. The camera pulled back to show Crockerman surrounded by a phalanx of Secret Service men, their faces grim, trying to look in all directions at once.

“Please,” the President pleaded. “I must conclude.”

The noise finally subsided. Sporadic shouts of anger and disbelief rose from the representatives.

“I can only say to my people, and the inhabitants of Earth, that the time has come for us all to pray fervently for salvation, in whatever form it might come, whether we can expect it or not, or even whether we truly deserve salvation. The Forge of God cannot be appeased, but perhaps there is hope for each of us, in our private thoughts, to make peace with God, and find a way out from under the blows of His anger and disappointment.”

Sitting in the airport lounge, a woman weeping softly beside him, several men loudly arguing with each other and the television screen, Arthur Gordon could only think of Francine and Martin.

“All hell’s going to break loose,” a bulky middle-aged black man shouted as he stalked out of the lounge.

“We’d better not fly now,” a young man told the pregnant girl, hardly more than a teenager, sitting next to him. “They should ground all flights.”

Trying to stay calm, angry at how deeply the speech had affected him, Arthur made his way through the morning crowds to an airline counter to again check his reservations to Las Vegas.

McClennan had stopped his tirade of swearing and now stood by the blank television, fumbling at a cigarette and lighter. He still wore his raincoat. Hicks had not moved from the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” McClennan said. “Christ, I haven’t smoked in five years. I’m a goddamned disgrace.”

“What will you do, now that you’ve resigned?” Hicks asked. What an amazing situation. Straight inside line on this story.

McClennan gave up on the cigarette in disgust. He flung it into the hotel ashtray, on top of an unused book of matches, and more gently lay his plastic lighter beside it. “I suppose the President will appoint replacements for David and myself. I imagine Schwartz will stay on. I imagine just about everybody will stay on.” McClennan looked at Hicks with suspicion. “And you’ll write about all of it, won’t you?”

“I suppose I might, in the long run.”

“Do you think he’s crazy?” McClennan asked, pointing at the blank screen.

Hicks considered the question. “No.”

“Do you think…” and here the rage returned, making McClennan’s hands tremble, “he’s violating his oath of office, to carry out the United States Constitution and promote the general welfare?”

“He’s calling them as he sees them,” Hicks said. “He thinks the end of the world is at hand.”

“Christ, even if it is…” McClennan pulled out the desk chair and sat down slowly. “He’s in trouble. He’s showing his weakness. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a move now to block the inauguration, or to impeach him.”

“On what grounds?” Hicks asked.

“Incompetence. Failure to promote the general welfare. Hell, I don’t know…”

“Has he done anything illegal?”

“We’ve never had a President go nuts in office. Not since Nixon, anyway. But then, you think he isn’t nuts.

Listen, he disagreed with you, even after he brought you into the inner circle…What is he trying to do?”

Hicks had already answered that question, after a fashion, and saw no reason to do it again.

“All right,” McClennan said. “What he’s doing, what it all comes down to, is he’s surrendering without a single shot being fired. We have no idea what these…bastards, these machines, these aliens, can do. We can’t even be sure they’re here to destroy the Earth. Is that even possible! Can you tear a world apart, or kill everything on its surface?”