Chapter 331: Archangel Michael's Press Interview Preliminaries

Thursday, April 5, 2007 (Continued)

I pointed upward to let the choppers know, then ascended myself. By now the sky was pretty crowded, with 24 helicopters (15 news, 3 private, 2 police, 2 Air Force, 2 Army), 6 private planes and 6 Air Force fighters. The armed forces were keeping their distance, either from military caution about getting too close to a possible enemy, or because the news choppers had 'elbowed' them aside in their desire to get close to me.

I stopped at 3,000 feet ASL, about five hundred feet offshore and five hundred feet south of the Pier. I recreated the square, walkway and helicopter landing pad, then I made a broad invitation motion to the helicopters. They could sort of their landing order for themselves.

The closest chopper - unsurprisingly a news chopper - had no hesitation in taking advantage of its nearness. It immediately came in for a landing on my pad, showing caution as it touched down. There was a small dispute onboard over who was going to be the guinea pig to find out whether the invisible platform was really there or not. The cameraman won, so the reporter went first. Her journey of discovery made for Good TV, because:

• All the other news-crews were filming her exiting the helicopter.

• The helicopter still had its engine turning over at normal flying revs generating 99% of its weight in lift.

• She used both hands to hang onto the chopper as she transferred her weight to her feet.

• She was wearing a skirt and - as revealed to people all over the world by the considerable reflected downdraft from the helicopter - pretty, blue panties partly over a very cute ass.

The camera-toting guy joined her without showing the world his underwear or ass, and they cautiously edged away from their ride, the reporter going first again. When they were on the walkway, I motioned to the pilot to take off. He gunned his engine to get his ex-passengers' attention, motioning that he was going up. They weren't happy, but they'd known it was going to happen. They nodded grimly, and the chopper left, quickly replaced by another.

The second set of passengers had debarked before the slow moving first pair had arrived on my square. It was amusing watching the expressions on the first pairs' faces. They were naturally extremely cautious about walking off the edge of nothingness and falling 3,000 feet to their deaths, but they also wanted to rush to me as quickly as possible to get the jump on their fast approaching opposition. Caution won, so the more confident second pair caught up to the first ones just before they arrived in my square.

Both reporters started yelling questions at me.

I answered, "It would not be fair to answer your questions ahead of the other reporters' arriving."

"We took the risk first!"

"Your colleagues should fairly give you all the credit you deserve for that."

They didn't appear too hopeful about that, going back to yelling their questions as they edged closer to me.

I preempted my being slowly mobbed by creating a few more lights that appeared to cut the corner I was standing on off the larger square. I drifted my triangle a few feet farther away, so it looked like there was a five-foot gap between their section of the square and mine.

I also asked, "Do you know what happened to the FBI agent that annoyed me?"

They looked down, which answered my question.

I added, "I'm not a tolerant being, and dropping you in the ocean would be much more effective than turning the other cheek, so keep yelling questions at me if you want to take a dip."

The third reporter's solo arrival - his cameraman having chickened out - was accompanied by his yelling questions as he came.

I commented, "You're an uncivilized group. You're as bad as each other, so if I get annoyed enough, you'll all be taking a dip. I suggest some of you go halfway back to warn newcomers of that fact."

None of them wanted to leave me, and the third reporter kept asking questions, so the entire 'construction' - except for my corner - abruptly dropped by six inches (all of it had to drop to avoid the problem of there being a nasty drop where the walkway connected to the helipad). The drop was a HIGHLY effective motivator, scaring the shit out of everyone (the floor was invisible remember, so they didn't know how long their fall would be). The original four YELLED at the latecomer to shut up.

A fourth team arrived. They yelled a question, which I responded to by dropping the floor again. A couple of the reporters told their cameramen to go halfway back to warn newcomers, which I thought was an excellent idea.

A couple of teams later, another reporter couldn't abide by the unnatural silence and yelled another question at me. Another six-inch lurch resulted.

A few minutes later the interview area was starting to get a little crowded. Not very crowded, but reporters are vigorous jostlers. The first arrivals had gathered at the edge facing me, and now there were enough people to have a couple of rows behind them. People at the back were pushing forward, which the people at the front thought was REALLY bad. They'd already tested the area beyond the edge-indicating line of small lights, and they knew there was no floor there. The front row were starting to get terrified, and they were screaming at the people behind them to stop pushing.

I said, "If anyone is pushed off, I won't let them fall to their deaths. I will catch them, then lower the entire platform to just above the water and cancel it. Hopefully the next bunch of reporters will be more civilized. I know this seems radical to all of you, but why don't you all sit on the floor so there's no risk of anyone being pushed off?"

They didn't like that idea, even though it would've made the cameramen's job easier. Too undignified I guess, or maybe years of experience at jostling made it impossible for them to be passive sitters. They did manage to restrict their jostling though, dialing it back several notches. When it did occur, there was some serious yelling directed at the perpetrator, so it was kept under control. A couple more six-inch drops in response to questions directed at me kept their memories fresh about the risk of dropping into the ocean.

I stood in silence most of the time as the number of newsies continued to accumulate, climbing beyond two dozen in increments of one (occasionally), two (mostly), and three (there were two groups like that, their third person being a sound engineer). I was silent but busy, as some of the arrivals were feeling the wrong emotions. Not excited or competitive like the others, but far more suspicious and cautious. Most of the news-crews got over most of their caution fairly quickly, and it surged back mostly when they looked down, which wasn't easy in a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. But the unusual minority were continually very cautious about me. I was using sight blobs to check them out; to look inside their ears, jackets and pockets, and to search the helicopters they'd arrived in if they passed within range. It was easy to find out that they were all Feds posing as reporters. I'd told the policeman that I was going to be allowing interviews, so the Feds had obviously thought to take advantage of that.

Among the late arrivals was a private helicopter. It flew up beside us first, and the passenger motioned to check whether it was okay for him to join us. I gave him a thumbs-up.

It landed, and the sole passenger got out and joined us. I was interested to note that unlike any of the reporters - who showed almost no initiative or intelligent curiosity - the new arrival kneeled down to check out the platform, knocked it with his knuckles, moved to the edge to check that out, and checked the light, including poking a finger into it, which led to his waving his whole hand through it, and reaching through it to feel the underside of the platform.

One of the other private choppers landed and let out its three passengers. They made a cautious beeline for me, joining the crowd of just over thirty people, and trying to worm their way to the front. They were pretty stupid, trying to worm their way through professional wormers. They got elbows in their ribs then shut out (so much for the public's right to know). Their helicopter was an eight-seater, plush people-mover with Christian magazines in a rack in the back, so I was pretty sure there'd be some fun soon.

I waited until it was clear that no more helicopters were going to land, then I announced, "That appears to everyone, so we'll start. The..."

Questions erupted, but another sudden six-inch drop immediately fixed that. They'd lost half my body height now, so the perspective was getting silly. When the Christians recovered from the shock, the older man led them in a charge at me, very roughly pushing intervening people aside as they rushed at me, the rear two raising crucifixes while all three of them told some guy called Satan to get back to Hell. They apparently had me confused with someone else.

They violently pushed their way through the four rows of reporters ahead of them. I thought Jesus taught politeness, but I've must've got that wrong. The leading numbskull broke through the front rank of reporters, his spare hand pulling a vial of presumably holy water out of a pocket as he raised the cross in his other hand triumphantly and ran right over the edge. He dropped out of sight while demanding, "Get thee hen ... AHHHH!"

The reporters on either side of him were still recovering from their being pushed so hard so weren't able to save Numbnuts, even if they'd wanted to. To clear the deck for some useful conversation, I used NP to give hard pushes to the two remaining Christians. Their attempts to brake themselves couldn't compete with my NP force, so they fell into the gap too, hard on the heels of their devout, dimwitted, descending leader.

I caught the three of them about fifty feet below the platform, decelerating them so they ended up hovering about a hundred feet below us, well out of our earshot over the sounds of the not very distant helicopter engines.

I said, "To catch them or not to catch them? Talk about a moral dilemma! I'll lower us down to a safe height to drop them into the water from." I started the descent, edging farther out to sea as well. While moving, I added, "On the way down I have a few things to say before the Q&A session begins, so please listen attentively.

^-- "First, I'm going to cancel the helicopter landing pad. I don't want to do that without warning you in case you feel I'm trapping you on this flying platform. If any of you wish to leave before I cancel it, now would be the time to do so. Anybody?" I waited a few seconds. "Nope? Okay. It's gone." They all looked, and there was no longer a helipad or walkway. They were made very uncomfortable by the loss, although it made no logical difference to their predicament.

^-- For good PR I said, "If any of you feel you have to leave, just let me know and I'll recreate it for you and call your helicopter back. None of you are forced to remain here, although I suggest there are better ways of leaving than what was just so intelligently demonstrated to us.

^-- "Second, I notice that some of the helicopters below us are filming upward. The women wearing skirts might want to take some measures to retain their modesty." I'm nothing if not a moral angel. Some of the women were wearing quite short skirts, but even the long-skirt wearers played safe by poking their skirts between their legs and clamping them there.

^-- "Third, would I be correct in assuming that it would be better to have the cameramen to the side so they can film the conversation clearly?" I got several agreements to that.

^-- "In that case, would all the cameramen move to the back of the platform. I'll separate the two halves and move the cameramen around to the side."

I could see that made them even more nervous, but their reporters - who doubtless wanted to be clearly filmed - encouraged them and it slowly got done.

"I presume the sound engineers are staying with the reporters?"

"Yeah," from both of the soundmen.

I pointed at the remaining private citizen, saying, "Which group do you wish to join: reporters, cameramen, or Christians who understand gravity as well as they understand God?"

"Haha. I think I'll stay with the reporters. I want to ask some questions too. Am I allowed to do that?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. Yours are likely to be the most intelligent."

"Why do you think that?"

"The outward signs are that you've taken more interest in the construction of this platform than anyone else, you seem to own a helicopter, and you take risks in pursuit of knowledge. There are other reasons, but those are enough.

^-- "I've got one more group I need to assign a location for. Where would the undercover law enforcement agents like to stand?"

Once they understood the implications of what I meant, everybody looked at everybody else, no one saying anything. Interestingly, five proximity senses suddenly showed worry; the four I knew about and one I hadn't previously suspected.

I added, "It's an EXTREMELY bad idea to lie to an angel, so hands up if you work for a State or Federal Government?"

As I'd intended, the five people's worry got MUCH worse but everyone else's worry only rose a small amount, which was good confirmation. Some of the reporters were excited, probably hoping for something newsworthy; or a little worried, probably fearing they'd see something newsworthy they didn't want to see, or maybe that I might think they were undercover agents. I couldn't identify the source of their worry, but it was too small to imply they were in law enforcement themselves.

I started checking out the suspect that I hadn't identified before. Her helicopter was out of range and I knew she didn't have a gun as I'd already checked everyone for those (the four originals were carrying, but no one else was). She was carrying a handbag though, which I soon discovered contained a CIA ID. I could even move the obstructions away enough to read her name on it: Makayla Rogers.

#19: <Oh goody. I like playing with the CIA.>

Apparently, until I'd asked my undercover law enforcement question, her acting ability had been better than my proximity sense's ability to detect her having non-reporter-like emotions. I wasn't surprised, as despite proximity being an accurate sense, it's not very detailed and there's quite a lot of personal variation in how emotions are felt. I slowly increased the angle at which we were going out to sea. I wanted to be about 1,000 yards out when we got down to a good person-dropping height.

I said, "Last chance. Put your hand up if you're from the State or Federal Government."

One of the original four, ostensibly a cameraman, dithered for a few seconds, then hesitantly raised his hand, "Ahh, me."

His reporter-partner was very unhappy, but didn't show any reaction at all, deliberately giving the impression that he had no association with the traitor. No doubt he was hoping I'd forget who the confessor had come with.

I said, "Good man. You get off lightly. Speaking of getting off, please jump over the side. Don't worry, I'll catch you and put you with the Christians. On second thought, that'd be too cruel. I'll keep you apart from them. I'm serious; jump off or I'll simply take away the floor you're standing on."

In this moment of high drama, the smart private citizen's phone started ringing. He pulled it out and quickly turned it off, saying, "Sorry."

Meanwhile, the self-confessed State or Federal Government employee had no neighbors, as they'd all rapidly backed away from him.

#24: <He's in the clear now; just cancel the panels under him.>

I did that, and he screamed as he dropped.

I moved the Christians to the side to make sure they wouldn't be hit by the tumbling camera, and so they and the decelerating Fed would have their own corners of the basement.

By the way, I was enjoying playing a little game by not moving my body to look at anything. When the Fed had put his hand up to confess, I hadn't turned to look at him. Nor when he fell did I look down. When I had a conversation with someone, I did it without looking at them. They looked up from the dropped Fed to see that my head hadn't moved at all, then they looked down to see that I was still moving the suspended people exactly as I obviously intended to. It created an impression of non-humanness. I could see and sense that it did a good job of weirding-out the spectators.

I grabbed the three remaining Fibbies by their belts in the middle of their backs, and by the backs of their shirt collars, raising them vertically in the air. As expected, all three of them went for their weapons. I let them start to draw, but then held their fingers tight so they couldn't use them while I pushed their gun arms so they were pointing vertically but slightly out to the side so their other arms weren't long enough to reach the guns.

There was a short period of chaos from the reporters, as they squealed and ducked for cover. There wasn't a lot of that around, except each other, so it was quite funny. The cameramen were clearly stauncher people, as none of them squealed and even those that ducked managed to keep filming the Fibbies.

I told the reporters, "I'm holding the criminals' arms so they can't use their guns. You're safe; you can stand." Because I was standing still and never moving my head in reaction to what was going on, no one could tell who I was talking to, but I guessed the reporters would be reassured anyway.

I moved the three Fibbies to a group to one side of us. I ripped the jackets off all of them, letting everyone see the shoulder holsters. I told them, "You've already insisted that you don't work in law enforcement, but you're carrying concealed weapons that you seem very eager to use. I'm going to throw the book at you. Or maybe you at the book."

"We're FBI!" yelled one of them.

"God help America if employees of the FEDERAL Bureau of Investigation are too stupid to realize they work for the FEDERAL Government, like I asked. Or maybe you're not stupid, just dishonest? My money's on both. Lying to an angel and then drawing a weapon in my presence. Tsk, tsk. You ARE in trouble. Let's see who you are."

I floated their jackets over to have them hover near me, using NP-fingers to pull out their wallets and ID badges, then throwing the jackets away, letting them flutter down to the ocean. I'd been tempted to set fire to them, but decided to keep that ability in reserve, especially because the idiot public would too easily associate fire with the devil, although Christians also claimed fire was "purifying" (the Salem Witch Trials, killing of Joan of Arc, and other such events, used fire because the Christians claimed it "purified" the bodies. Also, I suspect, because it caused excruciating agony and great public spectacle).

I floated the three badges to the cameramen, saying, "Please get a shot of those, so the world will know that these three people lied to an angel."

One of the Fibbies begged, "What're you going to do with us?"

"You're guilty of lying to an angel and drawing a weapon on one. Those are very serious offenses."

"We're Federal agents! We're allowed to carry weapons!"

"You are NOT allowed to lie to an angel or draw weapons on one! Whatever your laws allow, God's rules trump them. God did create this planet after all, so your ideas of what you're allowed to do are totally irrelevant."