Authors: Bobby Akart
Lau envisioned the process like a ripple on a pond. Once a single point of failure was identified, then all of the elements in the power transmission system became compromised.
“How do you restore power?” asked Lau.
“We’re still working on that detail,” replied Fakhri. “Using the 2012 India blackout as an example, the system engineers were able to restore eighty percent of the power within five hours. We consider that to be the worst case here.”
Five hours in the dark, worst case
. The blackout of 2003 in the northeast United States was largely restored within seven hours.
Lau studied the map. The Gamers had a viable, workable plan.
“Do you guys know what chaos theory is?”
“You mean like in the
Jurassic Park
movie?” asked Walthaus.
Lau instantly visualized dinosaurs roaming through Boston Common.
“I remember that scene as well,” said Lau. “Chaos Theory is the science of surprises and the unpredictable. As Julie Chen on my favorite reality show
Big Brother
says—
expect the unexpected
. Our friends at MIT study predictable phenomena like gravity, electricity or chemical reactions. Chaos Theory is the study of unpredictable events and their effect on an experiment. In our case, a slight error or complication in our methodology could be amplified dramatically.”
“Like what, Professor?” asked Fakhri.
“The lights don’t come back on.”
Chapter 49
August 23, 2016
Morgan Vacation Compound
Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts
He was thankful for clear skies and a lack of turbulence. The short ride in the Sikorsky S-76 from Boston was devoid of the sudden sideways movements and occasional rapid changes in altitude typical of helicopter flights. The swooping motions that created a thrill for some presented difficulty for others. He requested the morning meeting to avoid a return trip at night, when the human eye struggled to find a reference point on the horizon. This could result in serious spatial disorientation and motion sickness—and his day did not need the added stress.
The newly designed Sikorsky was ideal for his trips to the Vineyard. Most people thought of the deafening
thump
,
thump
,
thump
sounds of the rotors, but inside the cabin, the redesigned Pratt & Whitney engines and noise-reduced tail rotor barely competed with his thoughts.
Flying over Buzzards Bay, he glanced out of the starboard-side windows, catching a glimpse of the Black Hawk helicopter that had shadowed them since they passed New Bedford. To his left, he observed the lines of cars, full of tourists and gawkers alike, waiting for the ferry trips departing Woods Hole—taking them to the island. Naturally, security was heightened due to the importance of the vacationers, but the appearance of Coast Guard coastal patrol boats throughout Vineyard Sound was a reminder of the state of world affairs.
As the pilot swooped across Menemsha Pond, he thought about the words used in the past that drew so much criticism from pundits—you didn’t build that. There was some truth to the statement. Nobody got rich on their own money. They leveraged their wealth on the backs of others. Similarly, power was achieved through the adept application of your strengths.
Machiavelli once wrote he who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command. A commander-in-chief might be anointed with power, but it did not necessarily provide him the ability to command. He needed guidance. Today, help arrived in the form of a message—one that must be delivered face to face.
The pilot gently set the Sikorsky down on the helipad built by the Corps of Engineers on his property just three weeks ago. Men and women in dark suits surrounded the landing zone, along with several golf carts. The welcoming committee was a little much—especially for his own home.
He loved the Chilmark House. Situated on the southwest part of Martha’s Vineyard, the open floor plan and the floor-to-ceiling windows in each living space accentuated the panoramic views of the South Shore and the Atlantic Ocean.
After the obligatory security check, he was escorted inside as a guest in his own home. It was an odd feeling. He was not accustomed to meetings outside of the sanctity of his offices in Boston.
“Hello, sir,” greeted David McDill, the White House Chief of Staff. McDill was not part of the inner circle. He filled a role as an intermediary, a conduit for the exchange of information. The President’s real confidant, the person whom he trusted the most, was by his side—Valerie Jarrett.
“Good morning, David,” he said. “It is nice to see you again.”
McDill escorted him down the steps into the sunken living room, where the President finished a putt across the carpet to a makeshift cup. The President whispered something into the ear of Jarrett, who looked up at him and smiled. There was something between them—something more.
“Mr. President, your guest is here,” announced McDill.
Jarrett hastily broke away from the President and smiled as she exited the room.
“Thank you, David, you can go now,” said the President.
Silence filled the room as Jarrett and McDill exited, closing the doors behind them. Once the room was empty, the President smiled and spoke first.
“How are you, my friend, it has been too long.”
The men shook hands and shared a brief embrace.
“We’ve come a long way in the twenty-five years since we met at Harvard,” he said.
“I will always appreciate your assistance in landing the summer clerk’s position at Hopkins and Sutter,” said the President. “That summer changed my life.” The summer Saul Alinsky changed your life.
“Well, Mr. President, do you have something against the nine-hole course I built on the grounds?” he asked. “We built it with you in mind—all doglegs turn left.”
“Very funny!” said the President. “It’s ironic. My swing produces a terrible slice, but it plays into a dogleg left perfectly because I’m left-handed. I absolutely love your place. It’s difficult for me to find solace. Somehow, Chilmark gives me the opportunity to think and reflect.”
He set the putter aside and motioned for the men to sit by the windows overlooking the pool.
“Your children seem to be enjoying themselves.”
“Definitely. They start school soon and this gives them an opportunity to relax. It’s not easy being the children of a president.”
“How is your wife?”
“She hates me, to be blunt,” said the President. “But you probably already know this. When I entered office, she envisioned an opportunity to effectuate a new direction for America in a dramatic way. Change isn’t easy. I tried to explain to her there would be setbacks and false starts. She wanted me to crush my political detractors. She thought I was being weak, indecisive. In hindsight, I should have fast-tracked some of my initiatives while I had supermajorities in both houses. Frankly, I received bad advice from political advisors who were more concerned with an upcoming midterm election than my agenda. The party sustained heavy losses anyway.”
“I suppose,” came the reply. Let’s get down to business. “Mr. President, the election is in ninety days. You know why I am here. A decision needs to be made.”
“Here’s the deal,” started the President. “I still have a lot of work to do. When I came into office, I promised my constituents meaningful change. I told them we are greater together than we can ever be on our own. I am running out of time and I know it. I will not leave office without fulfilling my legacy.”
“I understand, Mr. President.”
He decided to allow the President a little more time to speak and reflect. He would encourage the leader of the free world to reach the necessary conclusion on his own. The President rose to his feet and stared out the window. He put his hands in his pockets and stood stoically for a moment.
“You’ve warned me for years of this possibility,” said the President, breaking the silence. “I have watched as you expertly orchestrated events around the world to achieve certain mutual goals. For my part, I have purged the military. I have executed both executive orders and secret directives with a singular purpose in mind. Your associate, Mr. Holmes, has been useful in that regard.”
“He’s a good lawyer and appreciates the importance of our goals.”
“I have spent the last eight years preparing for this eventuality,” said the President. “In addition to advancing my agenda, I have taken measures to allow for a continuation of my work. In order to win the future, I need more time.”
“What do you propose?” he said.
“There is only one way to circumvent the Constitution without a series of annoying courtroom spectacles,” replied the President. “Martial law and the suspension of Posse Comitatus.”
“I believe you are correct, Mr. President. I know you understand the ramifications of such a declaration.”
“I do,” said the President. “The groundwork has been laid. Over the last seven years or so, I have conditioned the American people to accept the presence of our military in their cities and towns.”
“The law supports your approach, Mr. President. Never in the history of our country have we faced so many potentially destructive threats at the same time. Your leadership can guide the nation through a crisis, and if handled properly, a continuation of your presidency will be welcomed.”
“Thank you for that,” said the President. “Difficult times lie ahead and will require shared sacrifice by all. I know there will be pain inflicted upon average Americans. I can focus the government’s vast network of assistance upon those who welcome our help and who agree with our vision for a new America.”
“You will experience resistance from within the government, and beyond.”
“Let me be clear,” said the President with conviction. “This will be an opportunity for all Americans to choose a side. If they wish to be a part of an America that is open to fairness for all, then they will join me. Those who remain loyal to my vision will relish the opportunity to be placed in positions of power. I have no concerns about the American people who have grown accustomed to the benefits my government provides them. They will thrive with the full protection and care for their families.”
“What about your most vehement opponents?”
“Oh, I have a plan for them,” said the President. “Congress gave me fast-track authority for trade agreements last year. Under the TPA, I have the ability to issue domestic executive orders over virtually all goods and services produced in the United States. I can issue executive orders for weapons and ammunition confiscation, prohibitions on hoarding food and necessary supplies, gold confiscation and the required relocation to detention facilities for our citizens’ safety. For those who choose to resist by clinging to their foolish notions of patriotism, guns and hypocritical religious beliefs, they will receive the full weight of my government upon them.”
“Russia and China?” he asked, digging a little further.
“We’ll toss them a bone,” said the President. “And stop opposing them at every turn. What about your end? Do you have everything in order?”
“I do, Mr. President. With your assistance, I have planned a series of carefully orchestrated false-flag attacks this year. Everything is in order for the final collapse event.”
“Perfect. I will be in Hawaii,” said the President.
“And how will the Vice President react?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the President. “He will be in an unfortunate location when it happens. Where will you be?”
“Initially in Boston with my daughter; then we will evacuate together to Prescott Peninsula.”
“I am glad the acquisition worked out for you,” said the President. “We can offer your daughter a position in the new government when things settle down. What about her patriot friends?”
“Their lineage dates back to the founding of America. They will see the big picture, as will my daughter. All of them realize this country needs a reset. They just don’t know what that entails.”
As for you, Mr. President, your entire career is based upon
planned obsolescence
.
Chapter 50
August 28, 2016
National Mall
Washington, D.C.
“In a desperate attempt to generate more excitement from her base, Mrs. Clinton made what has been characterized as a racially charged and divisive speech at the National Mall today on the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s memorable speech—
I Have A Dream
. Let’s take a listen to an excerpt,” said Bret Baier, host of
Special Report
on the Fox News channel. The monitor changed to Hillary Clinton standing on a stage in front of the Lincoln Memorial.
“
This nation was founded on the basis of freedom, but our Founding Fathers left one important task unresolved. They were slave owners and therefore were unwilling to address one of the original sins of this country—the inhumane ownership and mistreatment of African-Americans. While it is true the Constitution provided all Americans equal citizenship under the law, African-Americans were not considered people. They were property!
” Clinton stood back from the podium and nodded her head as the crowd voiced their displeasure with the Founding Fathers’ oversight. She continued.
“
The Constitution did not deliver on its promise of freedom for all Americans and I am here to say our country has failed African-Americans for over two hundred and fifty years!
” She paused for the applause to die down.
“
This nation owes an apology to all African-Americans. This nation owes all African-Americans reparations for the sins of past slavery and the sins of current oppression. Elect me President, and I will see that all African-Americans receive their fair share of the pie that was stolen from their enslaved ancestors!
” The monitor faded out and returned to the Fox panel.
“Charles, what do you make of this?” asked Baier. Dr. Charles Krauthammer, a board-certified psychiatrist, was best known for his political commentary, which earned him a Pulitzer Prize while at
The Washington Post
. Confined to a wheelchair following a freak surfing accident in college, Dr. Krauthammer stood tall, however, among inside-the-beltway conservative pundits.