Chapter 33

My first calls were to Sam Washburn and Linc, to alert them to an incoming storm of newsies and scientists. The next call was to alert the Navajo nation that the flood was coming. Then I called Jed Somerville, at the Big Wind Reservation of the Shoshone-Arapaho nations.

When I spoke with the Chairman of the Navajo Nation, Alvin Panther Strike, we reviewed the steps we’d discussed almost a year ago. Honestly, I got a mental feeling that he didn’t think we’d ever achieve this. Now I reminded him that we’d probably get the U.S. Government trying to invade (my word) the reservation and take over, or try to arrest me and/or Chas. A lesser problem was that the newsies and scientists would arrive, en masse. He reassured me that the Diné was an independent Nation and no invasion would succeed.

Well, Willow released the information at 5:13 p.m. on September 15, 1985. Poor Willow. We had only one line into the office in Burnside North. It took her thirteen minutes to arrange the multi-party phone call. This was before the push button, automatic conference calling feature that was commonplace in the 21^st century. And the ability to send an email to ‘everybody’ – well, forget that.

The cacophony on the call was unbelievable, when I got on the call.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I started. “I am Alexis White Owl, the CEO of Spirit of the Hunter, a private research company located on the Navajo reservation. We are sponsored by several indigenous tribes of North America, including the Navajo, Hopi, Shoshone among others.

“We have created a stable fusion reaction, at room temperature. This was achieved by Charles White Earth, an Ojibwe young man, in his lab at 12:14 Arizona time, today.”

The phone exploded in my ear. Well, not ‘exploded’ like with dynamite or something. I couldn’t talk through the noise.

After five minutes, the noise died down some.

“As you might expect, it happened only six hours ago, and we are still grappling with the success of the experiment. We will set up a press conference soon. Probably it will be somewhere local, since Mr. White Earth is still learning what his experiment has produced.

“It is stable, and has continued to exist in the world. It happened inside a fusion bottle that we created, and that was announced in a press conference several months ago, in Los Angeles, on the campus of USC. The fusion bottle is supported by an electro-magnetic field.

“Copies of that press conference will be available in text form. Please send your fax request to xxx-xxx-xxxx for a copy. At this time we are not providing any technical details, other than we created a cold fusion reaction six hours ago, and it continues to exist.

“I will add that the test lab is in a remote area. The nearest large cities are Flagstaff and Phoenix, Arizona and Gallup, New Mexico for those who are interested in coming here. But be warned: those cities are not close.

“I know that you all have a thousand questions, but I simply do not have any more information. A transcription of this announcement will be available by fax, so send me contact information, please.”

Seven minutes later the phone in the office rang. I was surprised that it took that long. I expected it to be some government official. It was the Flagstaff CBS outlet. They wanted to do a live, on-site interview with Mr. White Earth. Could they arrange something tonight? They already had a reporter with a cameraman on the way to Burnside.

“Yeah,” I said. This was going to be the way it was, soon. “No interviews at the lab. I’ll have to see what we can do. Call me when you get to Burnside.”

I got the phone number for the high school’s superintendent. The school was unused during the summer, and I wanted to rent it out. Just the gym-nitoriam. Whatever they called it. He said sure.

Half a minute after that call, the office phone rang again.

“Miss White Owl, please. This is Thomas Fountain from the U.S. Department of Energy.” He pronounced it ‘founTAIN.’

I sent Willow home. The boys and I could handle it, and she’d had a busy day. “One moment,” said Rock. He put it on hold. “You ready to deal with the Department of Energy, a Thomas founTAIN?” he said to me.

“Sure, why not ... Hello, this is Alexis White Owl.”

“Ms White Owl, this is Thomas Fountain. I’m the Public Affairs Officer at the Department of Energy. I understand that you’ve been experimenting with dangerous fissionable material in violation of Federal Laws. We will be there within two hours to take over the site and seize the material.”

“No you won’t,” I replied. “First, it is not fissionable material. Get your facts straight. Second, this is located on the Naabeehó Bináhásdzo – that’s the tribal lands of the Diné, the Navajo people. You are welcome to FAX an information request to us, and we will reply. Any attempt to take over anything, and seize anything – or anybody – will be repulsed. As I read the Navajo constitution and the U.S. Constitution, and Supreme Court decisions, you have no authority to do anything here.

“You might want to have your attorneys contact my attorneys and those of the Nation. Get your facts straight. Good night, Mr. Fountain.” I pronounced it ‘FOUNTain’ just for the hell of it. I hung up.