Chapter 17
Inside the United Nations building in New York, most of the delegates were preparing for the afternoon a.s.sembly and voting session. Some important decisions would be made. Heads of state held conferences with their aides, discussing which way to vote when the time came. Many also speculated about what was going on in their home countries.
Nelson Odongo wasn't concerned about what went on in his home country. He was busy chairing a meeting of the new and temporary Colonial Council. This administrative body was to be made permanent, along with the United Nations' Security Council. Some of the voting that afternoon would be done on issues affecting the Colonial Council. One of the votes would be on the Council's name.
The secretary general didn't want the name to change. He came up with it himself, and he wanted to keep it. He got a real kick from uttering phrases such as 'we must colonize' or 'our colonies in the New World'. But some people, possibly also some of the ones currently in his presence, wanted a different name. 'New World Council' was their preferred pick.
It was nonsense. A name like that suggested that council members resided in the New World. But Nelson Odongo wisely did not bring up this point. He wanted to do so right before the vote on the name, when it would be too late to come up with another popular alternative to the name he wanted: Colonial Council.
He also had extra arguments. He would say that the term 'Colonial Council' affirmed the Old World's primacy in the New World Order. Surely all the delegates, all the a.s.sembled heads of state wished to put themselves first? 'New World Council' sounded almost... independent. This was dangerous. This might put undesirable ideas in people's heads.
But he didn't say any of this to people in front of him - yet.
Three of the people in front of him ruled the three most powerful states in the world: in alphabetical order - China, Russia, and the United States.
One represented a superstate crippled by internal dissent: the European Union.
And there also were three people who weren't politicians: Olaf Troll, Sonia Patel, and the renowned political scientist Guido Worst.
Guido Worst was a very frightened man. To start with, he was sixty - an age when humans become increasingly afraid of death.
He was acclaimed for his political theories, but he was about to be asked how to put them into practice. He was to provide good political solutions for the New World Order, and he would be made responsible for the results. This scared him.
He was an academician. Academicians could say whatever they liked, with little or no consequences. But now, if what he said led to failure, he would be punished. And it would hurt. The genius of political sciences would be revealed as another conman, hiding behind a mask of brilliant theoretical arguments.
Nelson Odongo was concluding his opening remarks. Soon, he would ask him, Guido Worst, to outline a political and administrative system for the New World. He wished he was back at his home in Switzerland: a lakeside house on the outskirts of Geneva.
It was coming. The worst was coming. Nelson Odongo was saying:
"And now, I propose that we listen to what the most eminent political thinker of our time has to say. Unless of course someone feels differently."
He looked at everyone in turn. It was just like securing votes for a proposal.
"Of course," Jean Caron said. "Absolument."
Nelson Odongo nodded and smiled at Caron, then looked at Ruslan Grot, president of Russia. Grot narrowed his eyes, and nodded twice.
Brock was next. Brock looked tense. There were dark rings under his eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide. Brock didn't allow himself to wear heavy makeup. He thought it was poncy, at a time when many politicians had plastic surgery just to make themselves more palatable to the voters.
Odongo had thought Brock could be a problem. But Brock actually grinned, and said:
'Let's get it on."
The last person Odongo looked at was w.a.n.g Wei, the leader of China. He held five important t.i.tles, the most important of which was First Secretary of the United Party. China's United Party was basically the old Communist party which had evolved into absorbing opponents instead of fighting them.
Leaving w.a.n.g Wei till last was a compliment, not an insult. Doing this gave him the ultimate advantage: he knew how the others had voted before voting himself.
w.a.n.g Wei was a corpulent man in his fifties who always wore black gla.s.ses. The dark lenses were square and big enough to hide his eyes completely from other people.
Deep down, w.a.n.g Wei was a very emotional man. He knew his eyes gave him away. So he officially developed conjunctivitis, and took to wearing dark gla.s.ses at all times. His political career had skyrocketed from that moment onward.
w.a.n.g Wei said:
"Wise men listen to other wise men first. Let's hear the professor."
Guido Worst came close to fainting. But an angel arrived to save him just in time.
The angel took the shape of the police chief in the United Nations building. Captain d.i.c.k Brody opened the door to the room without knocking and ignoring everyone else, said to Carlton Brock:
"Mr President, I urgently request a minute of your time."
"Of course," Nelson Odongo said instantly, thus making clear it was him that decided who could and could not leave the room.
Carlton Brock nodded politely to everyone in the room, and left. He closed the door and said to Brody:
"Jesus, Chief. You look real worried. What's up?"
Brody swallowed, and said:
"Good news or bad?"
"Good," said Brock, and forced himself to smile to improve morale. Brody said:
"The first of the teams we sent out are back. They've been as far as Trenton, Allentown, and Bridgeport. There have been six cubes located so far. As per your instructions, sir, they've been put under guard to prevent access by members of the public."
"Sounds good," said Brock. "Okay, let's have the bad news."
"The public doesn't like it. Things have already got out of control in a number of locations. Unfortunately, that includes New York City. I have six men dead, sir. We're fighting running gun battles in Queens and Bronx and we've got firearm incidents all over town. We've asked Fort Hamilton to lend us full support. Unfortunately no vehicles are in working orders, and reinforcements are proceeding on foot."
"Can't they ride a f.u.c.king train? There's half a dozen working railroad engines at the Museum of Steam, and railroad tracks all over the G.o.dd.a.m.n place."
"The tracks are all blocked, sir."
"f.u.c.k!"
"Yes, sir. Sir, it is my sad duty to ask you for written authorization of deadly force by whatever means are deemed appropriate by the commanders in the field. Sir."
"What? They want to use f.u.c.king artillery or something? Can't they just shoot the bad guys?"
"The military commanders want the option, sir."
Carlton Brock sighed.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. You got it prepared? Where do I sign?"
A few miles from Carlton Brock, Li Yang thought: okay. Okay. I'm not going anywhere today. You can stop shooting, guys.
He stepped back from the front door to his apartment block. When he'd opened it a few seconds earlier, at least two different guns fired at him. Luckily, the gunmen were poor shots: the bullets..h.i.t the wall to the side of the entrance.
Li Yang began climbing the stairs to get back to his room. On the way, he tried to imagine reasons why anyone would want to kill him. All right, maybe when he was returning home laden with loot - that made some kind of sense. But going out? Leaving the building empty-handed? What was the matter with people? Had they all gone crazy?
Twenty kilometers west of Li Yang, someone in the crowd surrounding a glowing cube shot one of the policemen on guard. The remaining policemen started shooting into the crowd. But it was a very well-armed crowd, as crowds often are in gun-loving America. Within a few seconds, a regular battle was going on.
Ten kilometers north of Li Yang, two gangs settled old accounts with all the firepower at their disposal. The firepower included military-grade a.s.sault rifles. There also was a rocket launcher complete with several rockets, a few grenades, and many Molotov c.o.c.ktails. Within a minute, a quiet street was turned into a stage set for a war movie. But both the shots and the screams were for real.
One kilometer east of Li Yang, a homeless man kneeling on the ground looked at the grinning teenager pointing a handgun at his head.
"Stop peeing yourself with excitement," he said to the gunman. "Just do it. Go on, you stupid c.u.n.t. Just do it now."
So the kid did it. And so did a lot of other people.
By nightfall, the fighting had spread all over the city.
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