Gardens of Destruction

A growing tension hung in the air of General Patterson’s spacious office, an oppressive silence that seemed to press upon every surface, smothering the very air they breathed. His piercing blue eyes, typically sharp and calculating, were clouded with a tempest of emotions – fear, uncertainty, and a hint of resignation – reflecting the weight of the impending catastrophe that loomed over Earth.

Immobilized in his high-backed armchair, he stared blankly at the screen before him, the world beyond blurring into a muted gray tableau. The glow of the monitor cast an eerie pallor across his face, accentuating the deep lines etched into his weathered features. A cigar, once a constant companion, lay forgotten in an ashtray, its pungent aroma a faint memory of a time when the world seemed less fraught with uncertainty.

The failure loomed large in his mind. The anticipated nuclear attack had fizzled into nothingness. A wry chuckle escaped him; his brain seemed to jest in the face of impending calamity. Amidst this looming crisis, his thoughts swirled around how the Russians would respond to the revelation that the Americans possessed nuclear weapons orbiting the Earth.

His meteoric rise in the ranks owed much to his quick wit and resourcefulness. However, at this juncture, his mind felt hollow. Memories of carefree days at the academy flooded back, a bittersweet remembrance. Despite the acclaim surrounding his West Point tenure, he hadn’t considered himself fortunate back then. His mother had fervently envisioned her cherished son following in the footsteps of his grandfather—an officer she revered. Furthermore, named after a General from the George Washington era, John Patterson, history seemed to mandate his prosperity no less than his illustrious predecessor. His success, a blend of personal ingenuity and the influential patrons of his academy peers, culminated in his position as General of a clandestine Pentagon division, reporting directly to the president. He often made decisions alone, having earned that privilege through years of astute analysis and justifications. Administrators in parliamentary committees feared him, while his subordinates revered him—a dynamic that suited him, at least for the most part.

A veteran of multiple wars, his core exuded stability. Yet, here he was, in a state of utter helplessness. He hadn’t prepared for the unfolding events. No one could have. The prospect of such a long-awaited event occurring under his watch had never crossed his mind.

It was approaching! The true nature of the phenomenon was unclear—merely speculation. The recollection of Professor Bernstein’s abrupt entrance weeks ago flooded his mind. The professor—a brilliant scientist, yet viewed as somewhat eccentric not only by Patterson but also by his closest scientist colleagues, the astrophysicists employed at the Pentagon.

“General, you must see this!” the professor shouted at the top of his voice, his towering presence resembling an irate bear deprived of its lunch.

He approached the desk, brandishing some photographs. Dim sunlight filtered through the drawn office blinds, casting an obscure hue on the sheet held by the professor.

“It’s unbelievable!” the scientist exclaimed in a panic. “An asteroid like this has never been seen! Look at its shape…”

“Calm down, Bernstein,” the General interjected, his tone calming. “Please, sit quietly and explain. I detest this panic, as you’re well aware.”

“Alright, look at the photos from our early warning satellites,” the professor continued, more composed now.

Patterson reminisced with a trace of personal contentment, reflecting on his implementation of the early warning satellite program designed to identify potential threats in space. Despite significant opposition due to its exorbitant cost, he cleverly veiled the project’s necessity under the guise of ‘the common good,’ successfully quelling dissent. Truthfully, his interest in space objects was minimal, yet he leveraged this venture to advance a costly agenda. Little did many know that over eighty percent of the time, these satellites were utilized not for extraterrestrial purposes but instead for spying on Earth-bound entities.

“Speak, Professor, I’m all ears,” Patterson calmly beckoned, lifting the blinds to let sunlight stream into the room.

“Here, look at the pictures,” the scientist handed him a stack of sheets depicting a vague, elongated shape suspended in empty black space.

Examining the photographs, a sense of unease washed over the veteran. Satellite data had never piqued his scientific interest before.

“Intriguing. But, Professor Bernstein, what exactly provokes your interest or concern in these images? Please, elucidate in layman’s terms,” requested Patterson.

“Look at its form, General!” the scientist insisted. “Doesn’t it resemble a colossal wedge?”

“Indeed, one could argue that, although the images are rather ambiguous,” Patterson replied, his gaze fixed. “Could it not naturally assume such a form?”

“Asteroids typically display irregular shapes but not to this extent. Radar data suggests that their surfaces bear substantial bumps and craters from collisions with other celestial bodies. However, this one is furrowed, as if scraped by a fork.”

“Perhaps it simply hasn’t encountered sufficiently large objects yet?” ventured the general, grappling for an explanation.

“The shape is exceedingly unusual, leading me to believe it might be something extraordinary,” Bernstein proposed.

Patterson regarded the scientist skeptically, taking a moment to process his words.

“Professor Bernstein,” he began solemnly, “Are you insinuating something?”

The scientist pushed back from the desk, retracting into his chair and pursing his lips.

“General, let’s maintain professionalism. I prefer to refrain from unscientific conjecture. What I meant to convey is that I find the object’s origins doubtful. I could be mistaken, but numerous aspects trouble me.”

“I’m all ears,” Patterson assured, meeting the professor’s gaze with a tinge of suspicion.

“Let’s start! The object’s shape deviates from any known asteroid, lacking surface craters. Furthermore, it does not rotate around its axis. Until it draws closer, I cannot provide a definitive statement. But, I reiterate, it doesn’t seem like an asteroid to me. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it doesn’t fit that classification.”

The professor continued, speaking with fervor, “I’m talking about a potential discovery of the twenty-first century. Imagine unearthing a novel cosmic entity from the Big Bang’s inception! And you presumed I was hinting at... a UFO, didn’t you?” The professor’s voice was charged with irritation.

“Let’s not get carried away, Professor. You know I’m a military man, not a scientist,” Patterson attempted to ease the tension with a smile. “It’s prudent to remain composed and conduct further investigations into the object. I expect an update on your progress soon. You have my full support to ascertain the origins of this celestial body. And I trust in your discretion, as always. We need a comprehensive understanding before any hasty scientific publications emerge - especially concerning any potential threats to Earth or, specifically, the United States. That’s our primary duty, isn’t it?” General Patterson reverted to his customary role of a resolute commander.

“Yes, Sir!” acknowledged the professor before swiftly departing from the office.

The scientists under his charge weren’t military personnel, yet Patterson insisted on equal treatment for all subordinates, instilling a military-like response in civilian staff. Engaging in scientific matters didn’t align with his preferences; science was a means to execute Pentagon operations. The undisciplined nature of scientists vexed him, contrasting starkly with the unquestioning obedience ingrained in his own education.