The Click

It spread across the Net as fast as digital data could travel. The Spider rooms

around the world generated the news and the protolytes circling the Earth could hardly keep up. The president of the United States was to speak to the United Nation’s General Assembly and any possible invasion of the tiny village in the Jungles of India had been terminated.

The lobby at Hotel DanSheba was filling up fast with villagers and guests, all sitting or standing in front of a big screen brought in especially for the occasion. Barnaby, Elana, Meta, Hitch, Kathy, and Christopher were given the front row of honor.

President Wainwright was to enter the UN from the east side of the public lobby and cross in front of an enormous stained-glass window donated to the UN by French artist Marc Chagall. According to the commentator she would walk from there to the lobby of the General Assembly where its amazing Foucault pendulum prominently hung.

“Meta, what do we hear from Yennie? Barnaby asked. “Do we know exactly what the president’s going to say?”

“I haven’t heard from him since I sent back the executed Verification. I only know they were on their way to see the Ecclesian Ambassador.”

“He does plan to divulge the Smotecal Decretum, doesn’t he?” This came from Nigel Quicksilver.

“Of course,” Meta responded. “And I can’t wait.”

The presidential caravan could be seen on the big screen pulling into United Nations Plaza as Secretary General Heinrich Flum stood at attention, waiting to greet the American president, and no doubt he wasn’t happy, Hitch thought. He and everyone else in the hotel lobby watched the president and secretary general as they walked through the public lobby and eventually into the General Assembly Hall. It was similar to the way she entered congress at the beginning of a State of the Union, the greetings, the handshakes, the kisses on the cheek. And like the State of the Union, there were many who stayed

back, who refused to even acknowledge her presence. After all, she was in the den of the world’s real governing body—the Cūtocracy, and everyone knew she was there to do battle.

It took at least a half hour for the formalities to conclude and the president of the United States to approach the podium at the bottom of the steeply rising auditorium. She stood directly below the UN emblem consisting of a map of the world, as seen from the North Pole, flanked by olive wreaths as a symbol of peace. On the walls to her left and right were large abstract murals designed by French artist Fernand Leger.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of this august body, fellow citizens of the world, I stand before you not as a politician but rather as an aging member of society. As such, I will come to the point and not mince words—time is running out for many of us. I am here to talk about what we all know as the Click and I do so with heightened emotions. You are all aware of the age old controversy between those who believe the Click is God’s way of protecting the Earth and those who prefer to give credit to the natural order of things, Darwin, Mother Nature, call it what you wish. In either case, heretofore, the Click has always been viewed as a phenomenon beyond human hands. However, more recently there has been controversy surrounding the ERAM-V vaccine and whether or not it contains the Click.” The president took a breath and scanned the assembly hall.

“Of course, the idea that the Click is manmade has always been considered outrageous conjecture, that is, until the people of DanSheba leaped onto the world stage and into our living rooms. The DanShebans comprise an entire population of unvaccinated citizens in the tens of thousands now residing all over the world, many of whom are living healthy lives into their eighties, nineties—and well past one hundred years old.” Once again Andrea Wainwright hesitated. She knew how to work a crowd, especially a crowd of cameras.

“So where is the Smotecal Decretum?” Nigel Quicksilver asked.

“Be patient and shush up,” Meta scolded him. “It’s coming.”

The president continued. “Because of that jewel in the jungles of India, the United States Government created a commission including the world’s best minds in

immunological science to study the DanSheban people as well as the ERAM-V

vaccine—its objective to determine whether or not there was any truth to the conjecture. The commission, sanctioned by this body, also included three of the most brilliant scientists from Boston, Massachusetts, Frankfurt Germany, and Beijing, China, respectively, to determine the truth about the Click. It should be noted that those three scientists were independently selected by Secretary General Flum.” The president stopped and turned to her host. “Mr. Secretary General, would you please join me at the podium and read the commission’s conclusion as unanimously verified by your scientists from Boston, Frankfurt, and Beijing.”

“She is one cool son of a gun,” Barnaby piped in.

“And she sure knows how to take credit,” Hitch added looking at Elana.

“The world’s watching; don’t knock it,” Elana pointed out.

“Thank you, President Wainwright,” Secretary General Flum said and slowly put on his glasses. As he did, the camera closed in on the tightness around his eyelids. Clearly a difficult moment for him, Hitch thought.

“I have in this envelope the commission’s report unanimously verified by the scientists selected by this body—by me personally.” He took a red-covered report from the envelope, what everyone in the room at the Hotel knew to be thirty-two pages, and began reading the first page—the Summary/Conclusion. “We the undersigned scientists on the day indicated above completed a detailed evaluation of the vaccine used to immunize against the triple-stranded RNAx3 virus Tricaudovirales, more commonly known as the ERAM virus. Our evaluation focused specifically on the following question. Is the ERAM-V vaccine in any way responsible for what had always been considered the natural demise of human beings, what we refer to as the Click? Our conclusion is set forth below followed by the details describing our analysis.”

Secretary General Flum took a deep breath and continued without looking up from the report. “It is an undeniable fact, the undersigned have unanimously concluded, that the ERAM-V vaccine contains the necessary formulation to and indeed does initiate the programmed demise of any person injected with the vaccine.”

Most everyone in the hall had to know that would be the conclusion. Why else would the president of the United States be there. And yet a shocking wave of solitude filled the enormous hall. It was as if someone had muted the TV at the Hotel. Andrea Wainwright was brilliant. How she got the Secretary General of the United Nations to utter those words was something Hitch could not fathom. The very organization that had been ever-vigilant in its enforcement of the vaccination program for the Cūtocracy was now pronouncing its demise in front of the entire world. The moment of silence seemed appropriate. Let the dead be buried with dignity, Hitch thought, then watched the president take center stage once again.

“So this is where she exposes the Ecclesian Church? Nigel uttered once again. Before anyone could respond, President Wainwright’s voice filled the lobby at the

DanSheban Hotel. “Thank you Secretary General Flum for agreeing to personally disclose such devastating information. I know it was not an easy undertaking.” The Secretary General stepped back allowing his guest to continue—alone.

“Here it comes!” This time it was Barnaby.

“Fellow citizens of the world, history teaches us there are times when the phoenix indeed rises from its own ashes. At this very moment, that golden firebird circles above this great institution heralding a new age of enlightenment, an age when the wisest of our society—our senior citizens—will live longer, when secular principles in government will be protected and all religious values in homes respected, when no single theocratic dogma will be allowed to flourish like ivy strangling controversial thought, poisoning individual belief, sucking the oxygen out of the very air we breathe.” Andrea Wainwright paused and stood erect as if she were a statue, as if she were the symbol of a new world order—and then continued.

“And yet, fellow citizens, it won’t be easy to champion the cause, to keep the phoenix flying high in our hearts. There will be resistance, winds from the east and the west, attempting to bring down the great bird whose plumage glistens with a thousand shades of gold—as the French author, Voltaire, once noted. The old order will fight to maintain the status quo, and it will do so knowing that much of humanity has died

prematurely on its watch. No more, I tell you—not so long as I am still a leader of the free world. Every person on Earth who has been vaccinated against the ERAM virus will receive free the antidote against the Click—and we will start with our oldest citizens.”

With that pronouncement, half those in attendance within the great hall of the General Assembly stood and applauded the president of the United States. The other half remained seated and could be seen cowering under the thunderous acceptance echoing overhead.

Once the hall quieted down, the president continued. “In order to accomplish our objective—to create a Clickless society, a herculean effort that cannot possibly be achieved by government alone will be required. All the people must become involved, in both the public and private sectors. To that end, I have been in consultation with Supreme Minister Pius who has graciously agreed to the following on behalf of the Ecclesian Church. Pastors of all parishes throughout the world will be ordered to make available their churches as places to administer the antidote, without charge, and their parishioners will be encouraged to volunteer their manual labor as best they can. The High Ministers of all dioceses will supervise the effort and the ArchMinisters of each province will report back to the Supreme Minister any and all breaches in his commitment. In addition, on behalf of the Ecclesian Church as a whole, the smotec has agreed to sever all ties, financial and otherwise, with the Cūtocracy in regards to its active and/or passive legislative roles in government.” The president paused once again as a good part of the hall erupted in standing applause.

By then Barnaby, Meta, and Nigel Quicksilver expected to hear about the Smotecal Decretum, no doubt, but not Hitch. He knew what was coming or more accurately what was not coming.

President Wainwright continued. “I have also consulted with the heads of state throughout the world and they have agreed to make available their government facilities and to call out their respective military reservists to staff those facilities. They have also agreed to make their scientific laboratories available for the manufacture of the Click antidote, as we will here in the United States of America.”

Still another standing ovation. In the meantime, the room at the Hotel remained silent. Everyone seemed to be wondering.

“Finally, citizens of the world, you must be patient. I am told it will take weeks before the antidote will be in full production across the globe. And when it is, we plan to devote the first two months, or however long it takes, to inoculate the elderly, those individuals who are at least 70 years old. In order to coordinate this extraordinary effort, the Secretary General and Supreme Minister Pius have agreed to co-chair a United Nations Click antidote team, CAT, along with me. Thank you and God bless this fine institution, the nations of the world, and all the people on Earth.”

Those final words brought the president’s backers to their feet for an applause that seemed to last forever. They also caused Meta, Barnaby, and Nigel to look at one another in silence. No one knew what to say. Meta pulled out her scud and began tapping away at its keys. “Yennie,” she finally said and then just listened. Less than a minute later she clicked off and told everyone in the room to keep watching. The president would be giving a news conference outside the UN shortly.

Nigel couldn’t wait. “I don’t get it. I thought the whole idea was to crucify the Ecclesian Church?” he hollered out causing many in the room to grumble in agreement. Obviously others knew about the Smotecal Decretum and were expecting it to be exposed.

“Just wait,” Meta snapped. “We will have plenty of time to talk after the president’s news conference which should be any moment according to Yennie.”

“I agree,” Hitch said and then walked across the lobby to see how Christopher was doing during a commercial break.

Others visited the restroom or merely stretched. The room was quiet but seemingly filled with confusion and exasperation, Hitch thought as he considered everyone there. A few minutes later, the president could be seen entering the main lobby of the UN. The media all but surrounded her as she stood before a portable podium that had been brought in for the occasion.

President Wainwright took questions for a full forty-five minutes answering each with a great deal of deliberation. Surprisingly, not one reporter questioned the truthfulness of her assertion that the Click was manmade. Mostly, the press corps was interested in knowing how the Click antidote team, CAT, was going to be administered, in detail, and how long she thought it would take to inoculate the entire population. And what about those individuals already in the throes of the Click, one reporter asked. She didn’t have the answer to that and would have to defer to the experts. Another reporter asked how the nations in a Clickless world were going to manage population growth.

In response to that last question, Andrea Wainwright reached for her glasses and glanced at a note. “His Sacredness , Smotec Pius, has assured me he will be issuing a proclamation that church followers are no longer to be excommunicated for practicing birth control or participating in abortions, although any and all such acts will continue to be considered a sin against God. In the meantime, I will work diligently with the political leaders worldwide to cause their governments, and ours here in the United States, to stand aside and let women and families in general decide what is best for them when it comes to both birth control and abortion—and I might add, the smotec has given his pledge not to interfere.”

After several follow-up questions to her last answer which clearly stunned everyone listening and watching, the president was about to end the press conference when one of the reporters in the back could be heard. “Madame President, can you tell us what you know about a Smotecal Decretum having to do with the Click?”

“Okay!” Nigel said, jumping up from his chair. “It’s about time.”

“I’m sorry sir,” the president said, “I know nothing about a Smotecal Decretum.” She then ended the press conference, leaving the world to wonder what the reporter was referring to—everyone, that is, except the crowd in the Lobby of the DanSheban Hotel … and certain others including the Supreme Minister of the Church of the Ecclesia.

“I think we’ve been double-crossed,” Nigel pronounced as everyone else sat in silence.

It was Hitch who finally responded. “Nigel, you’re wrong. What the president of the United States did was nothing less than brilliant. She used the Smotecal Decretum to move a colossal mountain in a way that its exposure would never have accomplished— could never have accomplished. It certainly is true that public knowledge of the Church’s complicity in the history of the Click would have been damaging—but not lasting. Andrea Wainwright used that document to extract important concessions from the smotec, concessions that are needed now, concessions she would have never obtained by exposing the Church to ridicule.”

He looked around to see if his words were sinking in. “And should the smotec, or a future smotec, consider reneging on those concessions, the Decretum will always be a robust reminder not to,” he added and then focused his attention on Elana. “Are you confident the antidote will be effective on people in the throes of the Click?”

“It will be once we tweak the formula some—and yes I am confident of that.”

“In that case, I believe our work is just about done here,” Hitched announced as he took his daughter and grandson in his arms. “I may have a head start, but let’s all go home and grow old together.”

Spider rooms around the world were all but overheating with information on the Click antidote program worldwide. All one had to do was turn on their computation shell or there TV or their scud and there were the streets of New York, San Francisco, London, Rome, and others that exemplified what was happening across the Earth. Lines of people, the Ecclesian clergy, government officials, and volunteers from their various communities brought together to eradicate the Click.

Oliver Hitchcock was happily watching when the keys, Janine Rousseau’s keys on the dining room table, caught his eye. He had been putting that off, but couldn’t do so any longer.

Twenty minutes later he was at Janine’s front door. He opened it with one of the keys she gave him and entered. Everything seemed different, familiar but different, since Rousseau was … Hitch quickly shook himself out of that thought and immediately went to the safe and opened it with two other keys. He stared at the photo next to the safe, the one of Rousseau and a little girl hanging on the wall, then looked in the safe. He pulled out a satchel, opened it, and thumbed through at least a million dollars in cash and credit notes. “Oh, Janine.” He couldn’t help but laugh.

He then pulled out an envelope. It read on the front: Dearest Oliver. He opened the envelope, took out a formal document and note. He studied both. He read them again and moved in front of a mirror. He looked at himself and touched the wrinkles that weren’t there a month ago. He looked at the note again. “I can do this. … I want to do this.”

Two days later he was in a rented convertible on the outskirts of Paris, France, approaching the gated entrance and lush grounds of Bouchaur Academy, a private school. Classical music streaming from French Public Radio was interrupted by an announcement. “Today, the French Institute of Science has confirmed the validity of the recently published findings by geneticists from the tiny village of DanSheba and a consortium of secret labs around the world that together they have unlocked the secret of

aging making it possible for people to live well beyond one hundred years old. Reaction from the UN has...”

“Jesus, not again!” Hitch turned off the radio as he pulled up to a white building and focused on its magnificent 18th Century Gothic architecture. He turned off the engine and got out. As he did, he watched the doorman watch him. He climbed the steps and showed the man the formal document he had been given. The doorman merely nodded without saying a word and went inside with the document.

Hitch paced along the grounds in front until he heard his name called out.

“Mr. Hitchcock, I am Andre Roue, director of Bouchaur Academy. We have been expecting you. We just didn’t know when. … And this here is Olivia Rousseau.

“Bonjour, Papa.”

Hitch smiled. Crouched. They hugged, then walked along the beautiful grounds hand in hand toward a bench where they sat and talked.