Chapter 7
Return Engagement
The sound of pounding helicopter blades beat upon the first formal assembly of creators gathered under the downtown Paso Robles park dome. Speech was totally impossible. The pulsing roar of gigantic transport helicopters was at the same time eerily absent from the exact same scene rendered on a screen in real time on the white house meeting room wall. Silent viewing allowed conversation around observations, this promoted quick and accurate high level decisions.
The president, his generals and the cabinet quietly watched the progress of their decision to send a military expedition to arrest every last illegal alien and all their supporters seeking sanctuary in the downtown park of Paso Robles.
Generals and staff had ringside seats. Photography was managed out of stagnant water studios in Hollywood. Occasional sound bites with analysis were fed in from various New York marketing agencies. Official airways were filled by the full power of the most advanced citizen morale management tools yet devised.
The presidential gathering bubbled with enthusiasm about a new world order where everything was to be made whole and great again during what they called the American Century.
Computer signals from transport helicopters lit up on the screen as a small red light when each load of fully armed storm troopers took off from rapid deployment ships. This invasion force practice was specifically designed for countries that do not fully appreciate their own democratic freedoms. Such countries are usually small and poor yet rich in natural resources that have not been managde correctly. These problems often require the US to initiate humanitarian regime change in order to save the people there from harm by their own rotten government. Regime change costs bigly but it is worth it.
President, staff and military officers watched red dots turn into a swarm on the radar screens and were thrilled by the visual precision of their own management skills. The helicopter swarm circled the mighty fleet of war ships one last time before forming into a trained battle group and proceeding toward the central north american Pacific coast.
Applause and cheers were spontaneous when the Hollywood war propaganda division of civilian morale management went live in real-time from the war game to the white house via satellite. The image on the wall screen switched from red dots to full color tv. One general became so excited he inhaled a partially chewed popcorn kernel with a half swallow of caffeine energy pop; he was given first aid and then taken away on a stretcher.
A presidential aide quietly entered the room and delivered a situation report during the commotion; while the still choking general was being evacuated by medics. Most eyes were glued to a full-color panorama projection of the approaching coastline at Morro Bay. A few in the room watched the president read his brief report. They felt a little uneasy seeing his beady eyes occasionally look up and glance suspiciously around the room but were assured by real events as they watched the forward half of the invading helicopters split north toward Cambria.
The plan was for half of the commandos to fly inland from Morro Bay over Atascadero and then approach the illegal aliens from the inland side. The second half of the helicopter transport fleet would fly straight over the coastal mountains from Cambria on a direct approach path to Paso Robles from the sea.
Two small footnotes at the bottom of the president's personal briefing mentioned unusual satellite photographs showing a large number of civilian boats near the war game fleet. The second footnote mentioned an even larger number of small vehicle movements headed toward the road block camp near Cholame. Those vehicles were quite a distance further into the desert; they were coming boyh on and off road from both Bakersfield and Fresno. Their purpose had not yet been discovered.
The president knew further details would be supplied to the appropriate ranking generals and admirals as they became available. He ordered another caffeine pop energy drink and a second double cheeseburger with fries as he set aside his briefing paper and turned his attention back to the war game. He felt serenely confident that any dictator who was killing his own people would reconsider their ill chosen plans after viewing this new Hollywood blockbuster starring the world's most loved commander 'n chief playing himself.
One final cryptic note at the very bottom of the president's report mentioned that general Surfrider had been sedated and was being taken in a straight jacket to a mental ward at a nearby military hospital. The white house guard who had arrested her had assumed command of her imprisonment.
“That takes care of her.” The president thought as he sopped up the last of the artificial butter at the bottom of his super-sized popcorn. He finished off his first extra large caffeine pop and handed his trash to a waiter who delivered a steaming hot double cheese burger and a second caffeine pop energy drink. The president savored his meal. Feeling good. He knew he would already be safely re-elected president before fall-out from Payleigh Surfrider ever reached court. His brilliant idea was to simply pardon himself and fire the judge.
The president was beginning to enjoy being the most powerful man on Earth. He’d heard that general Surfrider might run for president and felt he had successfully intervened to defeat her plan. He had no doubt that he would already be safely re-elected president by the time the pesky general Surfrider was able to snare him in court. The president felt like a roaring lion as he turned his attention back to the pacific coast war game and latest news from the Paso Robles operation code named, “Pro.”
Generals, admirals, the cabinet and the president watched two swarms of red dots approach the Central Park of Paso Robles. Each red dot represented a loaded transport helicopter carrying rapid deployment navy commandos with weapons, equipment and supplies.
Each blinking red light was part of overwhelming swarms from a war game that had turned serious almost by accident. The US west coast had become synonymous with tree hugging whale lovers almost as bad as the President of north Korea. Anti authority anarchists without leaders took over as culprits in the minds of some of the less educated and most bloodthirsty generals. Inner circle power barons from western states felt uncomfortable with such characterizations yet were hesitant about putting their careers on the line and were not verbally objecting.
The helicopter fleet divided and the forward half went inland over the rich avocado groves of Morro Bay. It very quickly pounded noisily up the coastal valley and over the ridge to Atascadero. The helicopters then proceeded eastward and further inland, toward the desert road block at Cholame. When the helicopter fleet reached the desert roadblock it turned left and traveled back west toward the pacific ocean, Those helicopters soon left the desert and flew over winter cattle grazing land and then wine vineyards as they flew west along highway forty-six toward Paso Robles.
The second helicopter fleet kept traveling north along the coast. It turned inland toward Paso Robles at the coastal nature preserve of Cambria. The pulsing helicopter blades disturbed millions of nesting Monarch butterflies in Cambria as well as several environment defenders who immediately began work on a lawsuit claiming war games are a crime against the peace. The second invading helicopter fleet cared not about butterflies and proceeded over the coastal mountain range directly to the downtown park of Paso Robles.
The two fleets were preparing a classic pincer operation, they approached the downtown park from east and west.
“This is an amazing example of central planning and nation building,” General Misery proclaimed breathlessly. He jumped to his feet and listed his division’s anomaly analysis. There were only two minor incidents to report: Details remained sketchy but it appeared to high command that governor Starbeam had some new kind of high-tech communication system deployed from Seattle. He is using the system for communicating bribes from the pacific. Some report he is speaking as an illuminated apparition from overhead coastal high fog. He is reportedly offering his stock campaign speech involving medicare for all, education for all, fun jobs healing Earth and peace.”
The second anomaly was not so glamorous but more interesting in an immediate sense. Satellite photos indicated that thousands of boats were on course from the shore toward the war-game fleet. Military satellites were not designed to count such small boats and the number could easily be more like tens of thousands. A similar small vehicle event was apparently occupying expanding areas of desert near the Cholame roadblock.
Last of all; There were rumors that Hollywood was abandoning contract civilian morale management propaganda for the big bucks that came with intense public interest in what is actually going on.
None of these reports were broadcast by the national news monopoly east of the New Mexico to Idaho/Montana state line. Patchy areas of Wisconsin and the northwest coast of Michigan were also broadcasting western news. The happy valley of the Connecticut river watershed was also gleefully communicating reality in real time. Happy valley broadcasts actually reached from the river’s most northerly Canadian source to where it meets the Long Island Sound at Hanford, Connecticut, just north of New York City. Millions of New Yorkers also tuned in and listened to the happy valley news broadcasts. More and more people had tuned in to happy valley radio sources over the past few days.
The most popular commander ’n chief in all history shrugged off general Misery’s worries with a billionaire’s whine. “Don’t worry so much, general. We are about to arrest a bunch of illegal aliens and make america great again.”
The whine of a spoiled billionaire who used skin color and religion to fuel hatred as well as war and a military dictatorship that added to his personal bank account did not disturb Julia Costello. She had grown to become speaker for the nonviolent troopers and united farmworker unions. Julia was sheltered from thundering helicopter noise under a table that was under the downtown Paso Robles park gazebo. People were helping shield her from the pounding noise of helicopter blades with their bodies piled against each other around the table so Julia could hear a monumental new story coming from her brother via her communication link.
“We have new clothes and transportation.” That was it. That was all he said before the com link went silent.
Julia burrowed out from under the shielding bodies and stood tall. She raised one arm and strode to Gaston’s side. She pulled Evers in close and beckoned to Tamara.
“Payleigh Surfrider and my brother have changed their clothes. They have transportation and are on the run. They have escaped and will soon be listed as missing.”
Evers immediately strode away spreading the news wherever she walked.
“Wow,” Gaston thought. He did not attempt talking and answered with a cross between a frown and a smile.
Tamara was led back into the gazebo and told the story again via Julia shouting in her ear. Tamara then turned and walked against the throbbing helicopter roar until she once again stood at Gaston’s side with a determined expression on her face. She placed one hand on his shoulder. It was hot.
“Her hand is hot again,” Gaston thought as he walked hand in hand following Tamara further from the dome and into the open. Still holding hands, they raised them high and stood in the beating wind of descending helicopters. A huge dust cloud rose around them, it grew thicker as each helicopter landed.
Gaston and Tamara once again stood together holding hands before an army of invading pentagonian troops.
“This woman is hot,” Gaston thought and grinned. He turned to Tamara and watched her facial expressions as she began speaking after the last copter landed.
“There are more of you for this return engagement, “ she said. “Are we really worth this much effort? Why are you doing this?” Tamara asked the rapid deployment teams. Then she stood there smiling along with Gaston as they waited together for the invaders to speak.
“You are the woman we are after,” The lead soldier said. “We have you identified in our eye measurement data base. Please step forward immediately for processing and no one will be hurt.”
Gaston felt like it shouldn’t be possible yet did not flinch when Tamara’s hand became even hotter. He was not sure what to think about the person he was holding hands with in front of pentagonian troops. “She says she’s not a witch,” he reminded himself. “How did this totally new story happen?” He wondered.
“We welcome you today as we did yesterday and will welcome all of you forever,” Tamara continued, brushing aside the invader’s demand. She beamed at the troops with a smile that remained on her face as she turned and looked into Gaston’s eyes.
Gaston returned her smile and nodded. He felt goose bumps hearing what she said. Gaston was pleased that Tamara wanted to speak after being quiet for so long. Plus. The fact is, Tamara is a performer. Her eyes communicate what is inside her brain.
“She is a very young pro,” Gaston thought.
Everyone there looked into her eyes and saw peace and a healing Earth behind the words she spoke.
Gaston was beginning to wonder if Tamara’s hand was too hot to hold when she let go of him and whirled herself in a circle. Her dark Honduran eyes looked into every eye there as she spun through her dancing twirl. The dust cloud reflected from her eyes and they appeared the color of smoke.
“Why do you wish to fight with us?” She asked with unblinking eyes.
Another helicopter landed and the dust cloud grew thicker and the noise temporarily interrupted reply from the pentagonian commanding officer. Daylight changed to a darker hue.
“We do not question or orders. We are here to arrest you. Step forward for processing immediately.”
That’s when Gaston once again became general manager. “Wait just a second.” He commanded. “Do you plan on taking this woman dead or alive? Is that your order?”
Tamara placed what seemed an even hotter hand on his shoulder.
“Are you going to shoot Tamara Rey on live streaming world-wide video? What will your mothers think?” Gaston asked. “We request you remove the firing pins from your weapons.” Gaston repeated as his return engagement.
“We offer you sanctuary from eternal war, free education and complete health care insurance, also free. We offer you medicare for all expanded to dental and vision. Cradle to the grave. You are insured from the moment you are born until the day you die.”
Gaston’s sales pitch was met with silence.
The pentagonian field commander said they had one minute to comply.
So many helicopters were landing the dust cloud looked like a billowing plume of a forest fire or a volcano.
“They are definitely hearing but not listening ... very well,” Gaston said with a singing voice as he turned to look at Tamara.
Her eyes were focused on pentagonian adversaries in the finale battle of her life. The soldiers were coming for her and she would die if they sent her to Honduras. Whatever happened, Tamara was cornered, she was going to die. Tamara became Cabrona in the blink of an eye. Fearless jungle woman. Goddess of defense. Átlan kamakazi.
Gaston glanced at the pentagonian troops. They were all staring into Tamara’s eyes. Many of them were no longer holding their guns at ready, a few had actually dropped them. Even so, most of the storm troopers still had their weapons ready for action. Gaston was surprised by how quickly the new story had changed and was startled once again when Julia appeared at his side.
Gaston laughed when he saw her standing there. “Don’t touch!” he had silently admonished himself; “She might have hot hands, too.” Julia joined with Tamara and Gaston just as Tamara had lunged for the pentagonians and Gaston had yanked her back.
Julia held her com link to her ear with one hand and her other hand pointed straight up. She clearly included the pentagonians in her gesture for order. She continued walking forward toward the heavily armed commandos and into the uneasy clear space between opponents.
Tamara dragged Gaston with her as she also moved toward the war-game turned serious. Though it required all his strength, Gaston held Tamara back with all his strength. He felt like he was holding onto a raging snarling attack dog.
Julia stepped forward still pointing upward and neatly blocked Tamara by stepping in front of her. Julia then stepped one more step forward still pointing upward with one hand. The invaders quieted along with the nonviolent state troopers. Everyone there wanted to hear. Julia placed a stopping hand on Tamara’s chest, spun on one foot, raised both arms and said;
“Please welcome and listen closely to Governor Robin Starbeam.”
And there he was in full color smiling down from the huge helicopter dust cloud like a genie out of a bottle. The same show was projecting from high fog over the fleet. Electric power dimmed over the entire north american west coast to make the governor’s pitch happen. Pacific coast technology wowed everyone there.
“Very cool,” one of the pentagonian soldiers said as he removed his dust covered wrap around mirror sun glasses in order to see better.
The last two helicopters landed at quite a distance yet still added to the dust cloud. The last of the pentagonian troops burst from their helicopters and ran to the front to join with their military clan.
Dust clouds and high fog had never before been used as a communication tool. What was blossoming on dust and fog in front of everyone was not even close to professional theater, nor was it intended to be, except; facts are facts, Hollywood is just a short trip south.
Voices could be heard from somewhere outside the dust cloud. Governor Starbeam even reached outside the dust cloud and above the fog. When his arms came back in, they were holding a good djinn’s turban. Robin Starbeam put the turban on his head. He smiled. Then his eyes crinkled into a smile. Governor Robin Starbeam’s smiling eyes winked; Some said it was his left eye and others said it was the right.
Which ever eye winked; “Don’t shoot anybody,” is what the governor said.
“I guarantee that whoever you shoot will be someone who is a friend or relative of someone in your family or a friend of your entire family.”
Governor Starbeam adjusted the turban one way and then the other. He couldn’t make it fit correctly so he grinned and handed the turban back out of the cloud.
“I am asking you to follow the advice of our field general and remove the firing pins from your weapons before someone is hurt,” the governor said.
Julia turned to Tamara, looked into her eyes and extended her open hand. “Relax, Tamara,” she said.
Tamara took Julia’s open hand in hers and gratefully let herself be held and comforted. Tamara was shaking and Julia held her tight.
Governor Starbeam’s off-cloud coaching was perfect; He appeared to be looking directly at Julia, Gaston and Tamara. They were also included in the cloud projection, to make the story complete for the fleet. The three looked like adoring angels listening to Robin Starbeam from a slightly lower cloud.
“I do not know how long we can keep these dissipating dust clouds color charged,” the governor said. If I disappear, please explain that we provide peace as number one on our list. We are at peace with the entire world at this moment. Business is good. Though much of it needs to refocus.
“Think about it. Exactly who will gain what if they attack the north american pacific coast? We have good homes and jobs. We are moving our cities out of farm land and returning financial security and dignity to the people. It’s a reverse land grab here because it makes big money for everybody.
“Please excuse my rush; I am told the dust is settling rapidly. And, well, frankly, a regional power drain is allowing us to talk. Forget eternal war and austerity that gives the fruits of your labor to the already rich. We welcome you and your families and friends. Listen to the creators, they …” And with that, Governor Starbeam was gone.
Bonnie and Loren joined Tamara the jungle goddess standing with Gaston and Julia at the small-group cusp of nonviolence facing the most prolific killing machine on Earth. Alejandro, Gaston’s new indigenous farmworker friend walked forward and joined them at the lightning rod tip of cosmic powered biology facing totalitarian capitalist wrath.
“You all heard governor Starbeam speaking truth to you from his heart,” Gaston said as soon as the governor was gone. “Forget eternal war and austerity for you while your work goes to the already rich and Earth is poisoned with pollution.”
Gaston began winding up into a desperate speech about healing Earth when a nonviolent state trooper approached and requested to speak.
Julia glanced at Gaston, saw his interest, and motioned the nonviolent trooper forward.
Gaston looked to the US field commander, who nodded in agreement while staring directly into the eyes of the approaching nonviolent trooper.
“Speak.” She said.
Nonviolence replied thus; “Nonviolent troopers and farmworkers have verified reports indicating the Mayor of this town has lived here since a child and is, even so, an illegal alien from Russia. Will you start shooting local police if they attempt to evacuate their mayor to seek legal council? How far does your so called war game go?”
Some of the us storm troops wavered. The nonviolent trooper saw it and pressed forward with his pitch to peers.
“We nonviolent troopers and united farmworkers ask you to turn off all gps links. We request you remove all gps chips and batteries from all phones and other devices, weapons and machinery. That is the rule we go by here. Please remove firing pins from your weapons. Welcome home. You are now an officially welcomed member of operation Peace and Prosperity. Governor Robin Starbeam contacted nonviolent troops directly by telephone and said what I just said; Welcome home.”
What happened next is best appreciated through the eyes of the joint military chiefs, cabinet and the commander ’n chief. Many were eating their second cheeseburger, some were drooling grease, grinning and chomping stringy shit like smiling dogs of war. Second and third 30 oz caffeine pop energy drinks buoyed the spirit of congratulatory awe among the assembled military genii.
Then the red lights began turning off. Fleet helicopters disappeared from the screen one by one, quickly at the end. Joyful boyish camaraderie turned rapidly to isolated sullen egos looking for someone to blame.
“This is an inexcusable fiasco,” The cabinet’s Golden Sacks financial manager blurted in lashing anger. “We have given you a blank check and you have bitten the hand that feeds you.
“Look at that!" the Golden Sacks boss exclaimed, pointing at the wall screen. "All the red lights have disappeared from your war game screen just as I now disappear from this room! My advice to you, gentlemen, is to coax general Surfrider back and put her in charge. She should be president!”
Presidents and generals listen when a supervisor from wall street’s Golden Sacks threatens the purse strings that keep bottlenecks greased with cash. That river of money is funneled through golden sacks accountants from millions of everyday people borrowing money to buy a house or car. If one is a specially licensed financial corporation like golden sacks, every loan is legally counted as an asset used to back more loans. Yes, it is a giant ponzi scheme guaranteed by cash strapped taxpayers, but there is a lot of real money on the table and the pentagonian generals want as much as it as they can get. Custom laws have been written so they don’t even have to count ongoing wars in their budgets.
"It was not easy to pry Payleigh Surfrider out of retirement," interjected general Misery. He glanced nervously around the table and noticed every admiral, general and cabinet member was looking directly at the president.
"Hey!" the president exclaimed. "Why are you all looking at me like that? We all decided together that shock and awe would work one more time."
The military and cabinet said nothing. They usually hated the idea of a civilian president as top dog but at this moment they enjoyed watching the president squirm instead of them. The military empire was glad a popular civilian commander 'n chief was in charge. Two major naval operations by the world's unrivaled super power had just cost over a billion dollars in lost equipment plus a one hundred percent loss of troops and pilots.
"So you want me to do what Golden Sacks says and bring back general Surfrider? the president asked. “Fine. I'll put in a call to her now."
The president was glad to have something to do other than watch the empire's inner military circle stare at him. An aide answered his call button and the president asked to be connected with general Payleigh Surfrider. He knew she was probably too sedated to talk but placed the call anyway. He then asked general Strutmore to begin the negotiations and handed him the telephone before he could refuse.
General Strutmore listened to the phone and his eyes grew wide with shock. Everyone in the room hung on the general's every word as he began to speak;
"No. I'm not the president. I am general Strutmore and I have been told by the president to negotiate with general Payleigh Surfrider. It's a military matter concerning vital homeland interests."
General Strutmore nodded a few times, turned the phone off and gave it back to the president. The general then began putting his files in his briefcase without looking up or saying a word.
"Why are you putting your files away?" the president asked.
General Strutmore's silence was clearly unsettling to the commander 'n chief.
General Strutmore snapped his briefcase shut with purposeful clicks and stood up. He saluted his fellow military officers, the president and members of the cabinet.
"I am following general Payleigh Surfrider into retirement," he said, breaking his silence. "You should all know that general Surfrider has escaped with her arresting officer. One of you should call Golden Sacks so they can put their planning department to work and figure out what the us government should do next. Homeland security has no idea where the wily Surfrider and her guard have gone. Their phones and other gps buttons were all found in a coatroom near the white house front door. We think they smashed and trashed their gps tools, walked out the visitor's exit, and then blended in with millions of tourists."
"Oh, great," the president said. "Now we have a defecting general loose on homeland streets. This story is turning into a reality show chase movie."
The president looked at all the eyes staring at him. Being the historically supreme deal maker that he is, he moved smoothly to his contritely humble dad-self role and said;
"Okay. Maybe I could have done things differently. I take full responsibility for this debacle in all future history books and will definitely sign all of your promotions without questions until my term is up or you retire. Frankly. I'm wondering what to do next. So tell me. What do you think we should do starting from here and now?"
That exact question also hung on the air as general Payleigh Surfrider and lieutenant Costello rode the westbound train for Saint Louis, Missouri. Julius Costello, like his sister Julia, was a quick thinker. He had reported general Surfrider as sedated and ended that call about one second before he removed the battery from his phone.
He and the general had stripped all military glitter and gps devices from their uniforms and sauntered into the tourist world of Washington, DC. They bought suitcases and changed into new clothes at a used good stuff store.
Then they rode a city bus to the train station and boarded the first train going due west to Saint Louis, Missouri.
People at the downtown park in Paso Robles were also asking what to do next. A new and continuing traffic jam of helicopters continued to land as close to downtown as possible. Some were landing in the near-by train station parking lot. A routine was developing; expert military helicopter flight deck crews were helping the pilots land and park the helicopters so they were packed as closely as possible. Troops immediately proceeded toward the downtown city park where they turned in the firing pins of their weapons.
One hundred percent of the invading pentagonian troops had once again accepted the better deal. Medicare for all without copays corrupting the system before it even starts. Cradle to grave medicare insurance expanded to dentistry, eyes, ears and old-age care. Free education at any age was an important added attraction. Peace with every country according to the Nuremberg principles was the main event. Peace instead of eternal war along with savings from corporate graft easily paid for universal medical insurance several times over.
The friends and family welcome clause set off a full-on stampede that began fleeing the empire’s war-game turned invasion. It was self-defense. Nobody wanted to risk moral injury to themselves or their family by shooting innocent civilians who might have been guests at a family dinner.
Helicopters were still taking off from the pentagonian pacific war-game fleet as the entire fleet was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of fishing and recreation boats. Governor Robin Starbeam was grinning down from the clouds above the fleet. He did not talk this time but his message was clear. Every radio frequency offered anyone who escaped a better deal.
Those in charge of atomic bomb weapons of mass destruction were given asylum even though they remained at their posts and guarded the WMD nuclear weapons of mass destruction from use by anybody. Nonviolent troopers rode civilian boats and then boarded the Navy ships to augment the unique forces protecting weapons of mass destruction deemed illicit within state coastal water boundaries.
The entire fleet went dead in the water. Large tugboats were called in to help maintain position and then gradually move weapons of mass destruction to documented refuge and safe storage.
The sky was clear at the desert junction roadblock east of Cholame. The governor had not been able to communicate with pentagonian troops in the desert so the farmworkers did it for him. They moved in with hundreds of kitchen trucks. Side boards opened for customer counters and folding tables were set out. Food choices from around the world filled the air with the scent of Chinese, Mexican, Indian, Thai and plain American burgers.
Thousands of dune buggies and sport vehicles freely drove through the Cholame blockade and gave rides to downtown park. The cost of the ride was weapon firing pins, cell phone batteries, electronic keys and gps chips.
Gaston looked around the park. He was smiling inside and out, “This looks to me like we have lived the moment when world peace and pursuit of happiness became full partners with healing Earth,” he said.
Julia and Tamara hugged him from both sides.
Gaston didn’t flinch. He kissed them both on the cheek.
Julia blushed in her uniform and began to step away but Gaston held her.
“Wow,” he thought. “This is great. Humanity might survive global climate collapse after all.”
Everyone there was celebrating and Julia returned Gaston’s kiss.