This will make a great movie.

Part 4, of the story, of Life Explained, Here is part 3

Not quite halfway between the secret base and the city containing the Life Explained world headquarters was a small compound. It was almost invisible. It was built that way, to blend in with the surrounding woods, to be unseen. 

It housed a group of men called the Brotherhood of Disaster (BoD). They were certain a worldwide economic collapse was imminent. If not an economic collapse then a pathogen borne apocalypse, or a New World Order occupation, Equally certain the chaos created would be devastating, and ordinary citizens would be livestock. These men had had abandoned, more or less, society in an effort to prepare for the coming apocalypse. Investing heavily in weapons and ammunition they hid away only coming out to work, and shop for guns and groceries. 

They were convinced the secret government facility’s sole purpose was to watch them. While the government knew of their existence, and did watch them, they were not too concerned with BoD. They were, it was widely assumed, more or less, harmless. They were armed, yes, but they were cautious. And as long as nothing truly awful happened they seemed content to stay in their compound planning, expecting, some of them even hoping for the worst.  There were a few agents planted in the organization who kept law enforcement informed of the situation. It did not require an armed forces detachment with air, indirect fire, Special Forces and a direct line to the pentagon to contain them. 

No, that was reserved for a barely controllable, inept organization producing who knows what, for who knows whom. Staffed by incompetents, and malcontents, an organization so inept and powerful it might have to be wiped from the face of the planet. Maybe not, though. Maybe, it might pay off letting them goof around with time travel, matter transference, and weaponry that would make wars winnable again. 

But, when the helicopters flew just to the west of the BoD compound the noise kicked off an astonishing reaction. Men dove under vehicles, rolled behind embankments, popped up, scanned the horizon and fell flat again.  

Suddenly the radio crackled and a lonely, lost voice said “you have choppers inbound.” 

“Damnit, Bobby, you fell asleep again.” Steven Forsnoy, the leader said, with disgust, he rolled his eyes to the heavens looking for strength. “We are sitting here, our butts hanging in the breeze and the choppers are on us before you call.” Then he noticed the silence, the helicopters had passed. They weren’t circling. They were just gone.  

“They flew right past us, boss.” Darren said. “Like they didn’t care. They just kept going.” 

Steven knew they were coming. He knew, felt deep in his soul, the change had begun, the balloon was going up. “Why in the hell did they fly right past us? Did they forget where we are? Are we that hidden?” He asked, looking at the men gathered around him. They were dusty from rolling under jeeps, and trucks, behind barrels, a few of them were a little bruised, and still breathing hard from dropping so vigorously on the ground. But, through all of the heavy breathing, and dusty fatigues the confusion was obvious. They had not prepared all this time to be ignored. 

“Something big is going on in the city.” A voice said, “I heard it on the radio. Big, Bad, Bold 95.7 all the hits, all the time, was doing a broadcast from the arena, and now they are running for their lives, they had to abandon their gear, and are on foot. It sounds pretty big. Lots of explosions, gun fights, fires. It might be the…” He didn’t know what it could be. It was just too strange. 

“Hell, Earl, why didn’t you say something sooner? This is the start, I am sure. This is what we have been waiting for. The… well I don’t know what it is, but it is starting. Mount up.” He said 

The men piled into trucks, and jeeps, and cars, a motorcycle with a side car. And they roared off. Then they roared back, they had forgotten the guns, and ammunition.  

The fight was on.

It looked good on the whiteboard.

Last Thursday, one week and one day ago, Thursday the 21st, Dr. Dawg and I had a very important meeting with a potentially profitable client. We can't mention any names, but he represents an organization that is housed in a huge building that has more than 4 sides, but less than 6 sides, and throws money at anybody who can design and build a guidance system able to deliver a warhead through a basement window.

Anyway, on that morning, we overslept, and then somehow we started watching "2012" with John Cusack, we have a real affinity for doomsday movies where scientists save some small, wretched, undeserving, ungrateful contingent of base humanity. It still brings a tear to our eye.

About the time the aircraft carrier John Kennedy smashes into the White House killing Danny Glover (who, if you remember, kicked hell out of a predator, so he does not go gently into that good night) we remembered our meeting. We rushed out the door, Dr. Dawg in Iron Man pajamas, and me in a coffee stained tshirt and gym shorts. But, traffic was heavy and we were too late, our potential cash cow, client was gone.

Clearly, this was unacceptable. We had to make sure this did not happen again. We decided to install a black hole generator right on the big curved ramp from one freeway to the other.  We reasoned we could use it most days to shave between 9 and 23 minutes off our commute by traveling through quantum space and avoiding the 2nd freeway altogether.

On days like last Thursday we would use the "gravitational redshift effect" to travel through time, and make it to our meeting with minutes to spare, even if we had an extra cup of coffee, another frozen breakfast burrito, and watched the entire movie "Sunshine" where scientists equip a bunch of whiny, do nothing, no good astronauts with all of the tools and skills needed to reignite the sun with an atomic weapon, and save the world.

Today we took it for a spin, it worked great. We got to work at the same time we left the house. Our coffee still hot, and tasty, our donuts as fresh as when they came out of the little glass enclosure, the sprinkles almost jumping off the glazed topping.

Unfortunately for the small midwest city where our secret midwest office and research facility is located, the off switch malfunctioned, and the gravitational governor was sucked into the event horizon and launched into another universe. These troublesome, but completely unforeseeable, and completely "non-litigatable" occurrences have started quite a chain reaction on the east side of town.

So, to the all of the drivers who are now stuck in some alternate universe, or distant galaxy we would like to apologize without accepting any legal responsibility, And to the homes and businesses being swallowed into the inky blackness rest assured we are working toward a reasonable remedy, and it should be finished before it is too late, not that we did anything wrong, of course.

Another Budget Saving Idea

On the radio this morning they said the White House is going to give operational and tactical control of the drone program to the military. It makes sense for the Executive Branch of the Federal Government to distance itself from the day to day running of such a time consuming division of the United States Military Conglomerate (suggested motto, "Look At Our Stuff, It Is So Cool").

In light of the current budget impasse and the inability of the elected officials to agree on anything that might offer any kind of solution, at all, it might make more sense to allow a commercial enterprise take over.

They could sell the rights to drone strikes to the highest bidder, "Pizza Hut, the home of the $10.00 pizza deal, and a proud sponsor of predator drone stikes in the mountains of Afghanistan, north of Charikar, and south of Fayzabad." They could even name food items after key components of the weapon systems. "Don't forget to order your Spicy Hot Hellfire Wings, to go with your pizza today."

It has worked so well for the NCAA Bowl system, and trust me college football programs know a little about budget excess, why not let the Feds get a piece of the pie, or pizza, as the case may be.