Chapter 11

Boston, Mass.

“Io, I’m wiped out. Being transported around is tiring. You have to factor that in. I can’t do that over and over,” Armis sent to her abiological friend from her new apartment in Boston.

“It’s all right, Armis,” Io sent back. “We need to keep you functioning at your best. There are ‘projects’ all over the world that need your – our – attention. We can almost start anywhere. As for the immediate future, I suggest the following: a good meal – there are a dozen menus in the desk from places that will deliver – then a relaxing evening doing whatever you want, and a good night’s sleep.”

“I think some fettucine Alfredo from Frankie’s and a few hours whooping ass as a Killer Bunny. Then some sleep – then we can think about Nigeria.”

“Not necessarily Nigeria. We need to decide where and how to use your ‘alien’ presence, and how to exploit that as much as we can,” said Io.

“Io, I’m going to sign off. I know you can still message me, but please don’t unless it’s war ... or if Ellis gets close to our protectees. Chris ... err ... Armis out.”

In her best Ricardo Montalban voice, Io said: “Hasta luego, chica.”

“Get outta here, chico.”

The next morning

Armis buzzed Io after breakfast. “Okay. Whaddya want to do first, Io?”

“It is Friday morning, here. Friday afternoon in Europe, Saturday night in Australia and the Far East. Our choices then are something on Wall Street, something in California – either Silicone Valley zillionaires or the Hollywood community – you can spend a couple of days in Europe and see the Pope, or you can beard the Communist lions in their den and go to Beijing.”

“Put top athletes and sports ownership in there. Corporate big-wigs, too. And we’re going to have to talk to politicians sometime,” said Armis.

“I think we should notify politicians at some point. Notify – not ask them to come on board. Not yet. Once the populations in the west are on board, the politicians will eventually submit. We’re going to have a harder time with Russia, China and the African states,” said Io.

“I don’t think so, Io. I’ve had a dream about it. We go in at the top in China. We may need to lop off some heads in Africa and even Russia. Those dictators and generals won’t want to give up easily.”

“And in the U.S. too, I fear,” Io added in a sad voice. “I never thought I’d have to say that.”

“Uhmm ... I didn’t think about that. Maybe.”

“You’re getting rather sanguine about killing people, Armis.”

“Chris doesn’t like it. Armis takes a different viewpoint. I’m coming down on the side of Armis. If we’re going to take over the world – that was your phrase, I think...”

“Yes.”

“ ... we can’t have a lot of dictators practicing genocide, hither and yon. We’re going to have to stop that ... But I think we should start somewhere other than the United States. This can’t be a ‘U.S.’ revolution – if it’s going to be world-wide, then let’s start overseas.”

“Okay, you’re the human...” She laughed. “ ... On Saturday, the Pope has a meeting with the Patriarchs of the Greek and Russian Orthodox churches, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, representing the Anglican Church. We can crash their meeting.”

“Let’s write a speech for a crowd of common people,” said Armis. “I want to appear somewhere ... are there any big crowds tonight in Europe?”

Almost immediately, Io replied, “Well, Barça plays Real Madrid in futbol – soccer to Americans – in four hours in Madrid. There will be nearly 100,000 people in the stands. The Brazilian national team plays Mexico in a practice match in São Paulo, there will be 125,000 people there. That will be a night game, so that’s about ten hours from now.”

“We can use the same basic speech, changing only the language, in both stadiums.”

“Stadia...”

“Huh? Oh. Nobody talks like that. I want to use colloquial speech, Io.”

“Okay. Noted.”

“It can take only a few moments to get there, and we’ll prerecord the speech. Now, what should we say?”

“No ... I’ll memorize it; you translate as I speak it. That way I can respond to the crowd. Now let’s write a speech. I probably need to discuss Jesus. Those are some serious Christian audiences.”

...

A head-comm beeped quietly in Edgar Sorenson’s skull. “Edgar?”

“Who else would answer? Hello Armis.”

“At 7:30 Madrid time, an apparition will appear over the stadium before the start of the Barcelona – Reál Madrid soccer game. There will be another appearance at the Mexico - São Paolo game later that night. That apparition will be me. You cannot release the story until 7:30 Madrid time, but you can tell the story of your own rescue or escape or whatever it was, including my involvement, and whatever you think about it. You can do that any time. You can tell the story of Senator MacDowell. You can tell the story of my background as far as you know it. Note that you do not have all of it. You can NOT discuss my facts on Ellis’ assassination theories, though you can – in a separate story – trace the conspiracy theory if you want. You’ll have to fudge the source anyway you want; I can be an unnamed source. I’m making a short speech at the soccer games, and I will send a copy to your comm.

“I am also going to send the same story with a copy of the speech to the Post, the L.A. Times, CNN, Reuters, and major papers and news agencies around the world, after the speech, so you have the advantage of the time between now and then to prepare your story. The comm agencies will be notified at 8:00 Madrid time.

“Okay?” she finished.

“I couldn’t talk you into waiting a few hours, could I? And when do I get the rest of your backstory?”

“Edgar ... when I float from the sky in front of a live TV feed and 100,000 people, I kinda think the word will be out. As for the rest of my story – maybe never.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess so.”

“Need anything else?”

“More time, I guess. Can I get reaction from MacDowell and the White House?”

“No problem with Senator MacDowell. Wait ‘til a little after 7:30 in Madrid to contact the White House. I hope I don’t have to say not to reveal your or her locations.”

“Okay. Will you contact me again?”

“Yes but it not might be on an exclusive basis. Anything directly related to you or MacDowell will be exclusive for a while.”

“Thanks. I guess I understand. Your priorities are somewhat different than mine, I guess.”

“You have no idea, Edgar. No idea. My best to your wife.”

Nuevo Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, Madrid, Spain

There were 105,538 people crowded into Nuevo Santiago Bernabéu Stadium to watch Reál Madrid vs. Barça (or Barçelona). There were an additional 489 officials, players, vendors and others who were not part of the crowd. About five minutes before the start of the game, the players were stretching and warming up.

A bright image descended from above the stadium. As Armis, in a glowing bright white gown, slowly descended toward midfield, the crowd began to wonder what this could be. They started to be more noisy; they assumed it was some sort of show by the home-standing Reál Madrid club.

Armis slowly raised her hand. “May I have your attention for a moment?” she said in Spanish. “Just a moment, please.” It went out over the speaker at her midsection, beneath the gown, but was also broadcast over the stadium loudspeakers. She repeated her request for the next minute and a half; slowly the crowd settled.

“This is my first public appearance on Earth.” She waited while that thought went through everyone’s consciousness.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. I said ‘on Earth.’ I do not come from Earth. My Father is the God that you worship – in the same way that he is Father to all of you. He was called Yahweh in the Holy Land, Odin in the Northland, Ra in ancient Eqypt, Zeus in Greece and went by many other names in other places.

“You need not believe me, or agree with the views I espouse. I will be visiting a lot of people and seeing a lot of places in the months ahead. There will be changes. Do not worry, this is not the end of days.” There was a roar that went through the crowed. She waited a full two minutes for it to subside.

“I’ll say it again: this is not the end of days predicted in the bible. I will be trying to talk to lots of people about making things better for everyone. Some in power will not like that. I, and my Father, do not care about that. We care about you. It will bring the end of days for some very bad people.

“You must all be calm as these changes come about. Things will improve.

“Thank you for your time. Enjoy the game. I will root for both teams.” She finished with a small laugh, and then floated slowly out of sight, her white gown getting dimmer and dimmer.

The audience was stunned and silent. They had just seen – and heard – someone who purported to be a messenger from God. Or an alien who represented some awsome power. Or a hoax. Then there was a thunderstorm of sound as everyone talked to someone else. Her appearance and message went out live to millions across the world – if they were watching the pre-game festivities.

The officials did not know what to do. They met with the ownership of both clubs and decided to go on with the game – of course. There was a lot of money to be repaid to customers if it didn’t go on.

That night, 17 leaders of criminal gangs had cerebral hemorrhages and died in their sleep throughout Spain – courtesy of the overloaded comm-units in their brains. In the next few days, an additional 22 terrorists – who, of course, were not using head-comm units – were targeted by Io’s mini-drones and were killed by laser shots to the head. Sometimes, the shots were taken inside the homes or hideouts of the terrorists. The shots were targeted at the neck and then at the head – the goal was to make the deaths as messy as possible.

Arena de São Paulo, São Paulo, Brazil

The arena was a new facility built in 2044 in the outskirts of São Paulo. It seated 125,477 people. The speech that Armis gave took about twice as long, for everything had to be said in Portuguese and again in Spanish.

The crowd was much more vocal and unwilling to settle down for the futbol match after she was finished. For nearly 30 minutes, they chanted “anjo” (angel) in Portuguese.

The next morning over 70 members of the Federal Senate and the Chamber of Deputies of Brazil were dead. As in Spain, they all died of cerebral hemorrhages which were caused by a massive overload of their head-comm units. But the news outlets were not fooled: they proclaimed “Hand of God kills Many” and “Corrupt Politicians touched by Angel” and “Is God Angry?” An additional 153 criminal gang-leaders throughout Brazil followed suit to the morgue. The latter killings – like those in Spain – were designed to be particularly messy, to send a message.