ODIN'S WAR

Surprise Encounter

Jensen arose with his wife as usual the following Monday morning and got ready to go to his office at the I.C.C.E. complex.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” his wife said, putting makeup on. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing in particular,” he replied, lacing his boots while sitting on the edge of the bed. “I just have a lot of things to do today.”

“Like what?” asked Linda, “I didn’t think you were busy this month.′ You even said you were ahead of schedule last week.”

“Yes, but it’s my turn to be floor manager this week. In addition to that, I made a mistake in the heating services department, and I need to rework the entire programme. Well,” he sighed, standing up, I’ll see you tonight.” he walked over to kiss his wife before he went out to his sonic car.

When he arrived at the I.C.C.E. complex, he passed through top security check stations, where his frequency was impeded by radio waves, which slowed all cars in the compound to a snail’s pace. He passed the voice checks as usual, and entered the tube which took him underground to where his office was, deep under at the 33rd level. There were thirty five underground levels with three assistant managers and one head manager apiece. Once a year, he acted as the head manager for a month, with each assistant manager taking turns, as the regular head manager was either on vacation or travelling. It was Jensen’s turn this month. He was allowed a few extra privileges, and one was access to the central computer file. He was not given the proper codes, however, to discover certain kinds of top secret information, especially concerning security; however, he had access to the other level manager’s offices, and one, the thirty fifth, was especially associated with security services. Jensen knew he could find the necessary codes there.

He frittered away his time in the morning, planning for how he was going to get the critical information.

At noon, he went to the thirty fifth floor, expecting to find the assistant manager who was acting as head level manager, at lunch. He knew the woman, and had been asking her out to lunch every now and then, just to keep track of her habits and to gain her trust. Eventually he learned that she preferred to have lunch with the other assistant managers in the level canteen, where they played cards and managed to get a few drinks secretly. They often took more than an hour.

Earlier, he deliberately left a package in her office, which he now went to retrieve. She was not in, and her door was locked. “Good,” he thought to himself, “She’s at lunch.”

He walked down the long corridor to the canteen. A small group of staff members were laughing loudly as they sat grouped around a table. The woman was there, drinking and playing cards. Jensen walked up to her.

“Hello, Elsie!” he grinned sociably.

“Hello, Mark, care to join the game?” she responded cheerfully.

“Well, no,” Jensen responded bashfully. “Actually, I need a small favor. I left a package for my wife in your office.” He shifted his weight from one foot to other, nervously,

“Ah, yes, I remember. It’s sitting on my desk.”

“I have an appointment soon after lunch. You don’t suppose I could pick it up now, do you?”

“Yeah, sure-- Here’s my key.” She reached into her bag and brought out a key ring and handed to Jensen, who smiled politely. “Thank you, 1211. Be back directly.”

He walked swiftly back down the corridor to her office, which was near his own. He entered quietly, crossed the room, and opened her desk. The keys to her file cabinet lay in the front drawer. He took them out and quickly opened the cabinet. There was the security file, in the bottom drawer. He quickly pulled it out and took a quick glance over his shoulder. No one. He opened the folder and flipped through the assorted leaflets. Electronic systems, check-in procedure, guard instructions, power source, main computer terminal, gates, and grounds. It appeared to be mostly procedures for the guards. Jensen first tried to move his eyes so quickly, that he understood nothing, as his mind raced out of control.′ Then he glanced through a second time at a carefully measured speed. This time he found the code numbers for the security file in the main computer data base. He memorized them immediately. He quickly replaced the folder and locked the cabinet. He shut the desk drawer, and picking up his dummy package, he left the room, making sure the door was locked behind him. He straightened his tie and breathed hard, looking down the corridor. No one was in sight. He walked easily and freely down the corridor, gave the woman her keys, and thanked her with as charming a smile as he could manage.

The next step was to get to the first level and use the main computer file while the technicians were on break. Since they had little to do this week it was likely that they would spend a little more time with coffee than usual, especially around lunch time, so Jensen would have only to convince the security guard. The ascent up the tube seemed agonizingly slows, though in reality it took only about ninety seconds.

The main computer system was located at the opposite side of the first level from the tube, which was about a three minute walk through four corridors. The room itself was a solid block with one door, where an I.D. computerized card summoned the attendant, who inquired about the purpose of the visit.

“Heating systems, thirty third level. Fluctuation in heat controls reliability is indicating a possibility of either geothermic reactions, or nuclear byproduct seepage. I need a full geo-history, and a compilation of nuclear waste intensity and distribution, for a comparative study of figures. Also necessary for the planning of future level construction.”

The attendant was satisfied, if noncomprehending, and allowed Jensen to pass with his level head manager card. Inside, Jensen noticed that several of the technicians were lounging about, sipping coffee, and paying little attention to him.

“If you need assistance, the technicians are available,” remarked the attendant curtly, “But you have come at an awkward time.”

“There will be no problem,” responded Jensen, “I am well trained in this kind of search.”

“Very well. You may proceed undisturbed.” Jensen went to the log on desk and punched out the code numbers he had memorized. The security file contained all past details, and present and future plans. He punched the program forward to the current operating system of security. He found thousands of figures and his mind seemed to race for an infernally long time, confounded by all the details, but eventually he located the guard positions and strengths around all of the exits and entrances to the complex. Then he moved to a section titled emergency evacuation and alternative safety systems.

Suddenly, he felt a hand resting solidly on his shoulder. His stomach fluttered, and a wave of heat passed across his face.

“So, you are a bit curious, eh Mr. Jensen?” Jensen turned and looked up. A tall thin man with a jutting chin, burning blue eyes and a sardonic smile was leaning over him.

“I don’t know how I got this code,” said Jensen. “I believe I have confused the numbers. I can’t seem to find the heating systems file.”

“Spare your breath, Jensen,” said the tall man, walking away with his hands clasped behind his back, tilting his grey head back to gaze a moment at the ceiling. He suddenly stopped and turned sharply, to glare at Jensen.

“You, my friend, have been watched. Since you came here, shortly after the Day of Death, we thought we could watch you better here. We thought you knew what had happened to your brother.” Jensen raised his eyebrows.

“We needed him after the Day of Death. Before the War, we came to him, and warned him of the nuclear confrontation which was likely to occur. We gave him an opportunity to see the light, to know the new society we were going to build, and even become one of the first archangels.”

“And what did he do?” Jensen trembled.

“The bastard refused us! He spat on my boot, and swore at me!”

“My brother was a good man. If his religion hadn’t died years before the end, there would not have been a nuclear war, and,” he paused for a moment, “There wouldn’t have been bastards like you.”

“Enough!” Spurion slammed his fist down, “You cannot speak in an archangel’s presence ever again! Your brother resisted all attempts to persuade him. He died with great pain. We could do nothing for him.”

“You murdered him!” screamed Jensen.

“Shut up! You will be persuaded, or you will share his miserable fate. The animals of the Umm world must be exterminated, if we are to purify mankind. Only Heavenly men shall survive, and it is so ordained by the Archangels of I.C.C.E. Now, you have been under observation for a long time now, and will remain so. You will take this memory,” Spurion threw a thumb drive into Jensen’s lap, “to your friends. It will give them the information they need.”

“What if I refuse?”

“You will be burnt alive by a laser tractor beam which is fixed to the pulse of your heart. Microchips will be injected under your skin, and when a button is pushed, you will begin to burn from your beating heart outwards. The pain will be excruciating. If you betray us at any time, the pain will begin. You will also be bugged, so nothing can escape us.”

Several armed guards approached and took a hold of Jensen, who did not resist.

“You are bringing the end,” he said calmly, as a technician approached with a huge syringe, “Justice will not escape you. The misery you create will someday recoil and strike you down.” Just then the technician injected a drug into his left arm, and as he fainted, the microchip was injected into his left breast. Jensen began to weakly struggle against the effects of the drug, but with little consequence,′ as a great heaviness soon came to all his limbs, and his head sagged as the muscles in his neck went slack, jaw falling open, he collapsed to the floor. When he woke up, he was back in his office, sitting in his chair. He rubbed his face, ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head. His eyes didn’t quite focus, and he was groggy. He felt his chest pocket, and pulled out the thumb drive. He remembered what it was, and a shaking took his body. He sat it down on the desk and laid his head down, attempting to collect his thoughts. He immediately experienced a spinning sensation, as though he were ill from too much drink.

“Bastards,” he thought, “Damn them to hell!”

He noticed that it was four pm. Time to go home. He, got up, took his coat and keys, left his office, and started ’his weary way back. When he kissed his wife at the door of his house, she stepped back and looked at him.

“Why are your eyes so red?” she asked, “You look very tired.”

“I told you I had a lot to do today. I don’t feel very well, either. I guess I worry too much about nothing.”

“Come on, dear, get your clothes off and get right to bed. You need a little time to relax.”

He went to his room and sat on the bed. She undressed him, and they embraced, looking long into each other’s eyes. But Jensen’s vision blurred, and his wife knew there was something very wrong. She pushed him gently back onto the bed.

“Sleep now, and if you don’t feel much better, I’ll the doctor. Anyway, you won’t go to work tomorrow, I won’t have it.”

“I don’t need a doctor; you’re all the care I need.”

She shook her head, kissed him on the forehead, and left the room with a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.