2040 Revelations (26 page)

‘Surely they know the rest of the world won’t let this action go unpunished?’ Jessica said.

‘They obviously don’t care,’ Simon replied. ‘With their economy the major force in the world and their military might unrivalled, who can stand against them? There is only the United States and their resources are massively overstretched due to AG5 and its fallout; likewise with the EU and other powerful nations.’

‘What about the UN?’

‘The UN is in China’s pocket these days,’ he said. ‘Sadly, this is something we should have seen coming.’

‘Shouldn’t you be getting to some kind of shelter?’

‘We’re already in a basement office. We’ll be going down to a lower level car park after this broadcast.’

‘Are there any reports of retaliation from the Japanese or South Koreans?’

‘The South Koreans no longer have nuclear weapons due to a decommissioning pact with North Korea five years ago. Japan has some, but China has been investing heavily in its missile shield defence system for some time and it’s unlikely anything the Japanese fire at them will get through.’

‘Is this something the Chinese have been planning for a long time, then?’

‘That may well be the case. What better time to launch an attack than when the rest of the world is looking elsewhere?’

‘I can’t see the U.S. standing by and letting this happen to two of their allies,’ Jessica said. ‘Surely they will react?’

‘I don’t know about that, but I do know that many people will have just died and many more will continue to die in the most terrible of ways imaginable.’

The window showing the BBC’s Chinese correspondent faded from view and Jessica Klein once more filled the whole screen, with multiple news tickers flagging up the latest reports from around the world. ‘We have just received a statement issued by the White House of the United States,’ Jessica continued, ‘which reads as follows:

‘“Such a blatant attack on our allies will not be tolerated, now or ever. We will be sending in negotiators to both sides to try to resolve the issue before any further blood is shed. U.S. and NATO forces are on high alert and UN diplomats are also on their way to speak to the governments concerned. Rest assured that this incident will not bring about a world war during a time when upheaval is already upon us. Further updates will be made via the White House when and where necessary. End of statement.”

‘Going back to our panel of guests; Michael, if I may speak to you first, it seems your government is not willing to back up its allies with force. This is an extremely surprising statement, isn’t it?’

The image zoomed out slightly and then focused in on Michael Bailey from the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. ‘I don’t think so, Jessica, as the White House administration has stated quite clearly our position is clear. The United States will ensure that peace is quickly brought about and by any means available to us.’

‘And does that include the use of force?’ she said, pressing him for an answer.

Michael Bailey sat up straighter, his body language defensive. ‘Until I have been properly briefed I am not in a position to comment further.’

Jessica Klein looked a little incredulous at his response. ‘Dr. Mowberry, you have had experience with international affairs; how do you see this military non-intervention policy by the United States?’

‘I think it’s too early to speculate, but considering the arrival of AG5 the U.S. is obviously more concerned with ensuring stability at home than wading into a war with arguably the most powerful nation on the planet. We also don’t know the reason for the aggression and which side is accountable for instigating initial hostilities. Perhaps we should get some clear facts before calling for further action by a third party.’

The newsreader nodded her head as she took in the Archbishop’s answer. ‘I think they are very valid points; however, such an apparently weak statement from the White House is almost unheard of. Am I missing something here? The use of nuclear weapons is a declaration of war, and since it is a declaration of war on America’s allies then it is a declaration of war on America itself, and yet the statement released by the White House is virtually as toothless as those issued by the UN on a regular basis when military action is called for—’ Jessica put her finger to her ear as she took instructions from her producer and nodded. ‘My apologies, we’re going to have to suspend this discussion as we’re shifting to a live report coming out of South Korea where we have footage of the aftermath of one of the bombs. The images you are about to see are from a remote camera and may be disturbing.’

The studio scene once again shrank to one side of the screen and another frame enlarged. Smoke billowed ominously in the initial image and then it cleared to reveal a decimated landscape that had once been a great city.

A reporter, Andrew Stapleton according to the graphic, described what was being shown. ‘This complete annihilation of an urban area laid out below us is the remnants of South Korea’s capital city, Seoul. Untold numbers of people are dead and that figure will only rise, considering many other bombs have ravaged the nation, bringing it to its knees. The bodies you can clearly see lying sprawled out on the street are—’

Rebecca got up and walked to the window, not wanting to see or hear any more of the report. She looked over to where Joseph sat sleeping in a chair after his day’s exertions. She went over to him and gently moved his hair out of his eyes. He looked so peaceful, and as she had before on occasion she envied his innocence. To have such a free mind, albeit one mentally challenged, was perhaps a gift in some respects. Not fearing or worrying about your own mortality or having to concern yourself with the rights and wrongs and evil deeds of others; soon forgetting any stress that you did experience, allowing happiness to once more exert its powerful spell of safety and contentment; life could be so cruel and yet so kind at the same time.

Rebecca sat down next to him to watch him breathe while attempting to forget what she’d just witnessed by thinking of happier times; for a while it helped to ease her mind and soul, when both were weary.

Chapter Fifteen

London, England.

Mark swayed at the bar. Stumbling backwards, he bumped into a couple as they tried to pass behind him without spilling their drinks; he promptly gave them the finger for their efforts. The tall young man, who now found half his pint on the floor, stopped and turned back to give Mark a hard stare. Becoming aggressive, Mark picked up his bottle threateningly. ‘And what?’ he said, speech slurred.

The man, pulled back by his girlfriend, walked away, still angered but relinquishing to common sense.

Mark watched them go before turning back to the bar and calling for another drink.

He’d hit the booze on a nightly basis ever since Sarah had left him to go treasure hunting in Turkey. Tonight he’d had more than usual and in a state of lairiness he’d already insulted a group of women sitting at a nearby table, a barmaid, and a colleague, who’d left in disgust. Some of his other remaining work mates were equally as drunk, but seemed slightly more restrained.

Impact Day was upon them and many in central London got in a drink before the curfew saw them scurrying back to their homes. Some office workers, of which Mark was one, had decided that Impact Day should be celebrated much like any other notable day, such as the New Year, or Friday.

‘Mark, where’s your lovely girlfriend tonight?’ one of his friends asked him.

‘Who? Oh, her. I dumped her; she was getting too clingy and needy. To be honest, she was a pretty weak person; I’m better off without her.’

‘She was a looker, though, and no mistake. Sarah, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah. She wasn’t that good-looking though; you should have seen her in the morning, well rough!’

‘Whatever you say, buddy. Have you got her phone number? I might give her a call since you’re done with her.’

Mark laughed loudly. ‘I wouldn’t touch her, mate. I think she gave me crabs or something. Pretty rotten. I’d stay clear, if I were you.’

‘Really? That’s nasty that a girl like that could be diseased. Hey, Charlie, did you know Sarah gave Mark VD?!’ the man shouted to his mate further up the bar.

Charlie made a face and then went back to talking to someone next to him. Mark noticed something going on outside. He pushed past a young couple who gave him dirty looks which he ignored as he lurched to the open door.

Police walked down the road on either side, shadowing a mass of people as they marched along the street with placards and banners chanting as they went.

‘GMRC OUT!’

‘Unelected government!’

‘GM—RC unelected mon—keys! GM—RC unelected Na—zis!’

He took another swig from his bottle and belched while considering the scene before him. He had been saying for years the GMRC had too much power. What had he told people for years? The GMRC had too much power. They weren’t even elected!

Struggling back to the bar, he downed the rest of his drink, slammed the empty bottle down on the counter and put on his jacket. Not bothering to say goodbye to anyone he ambled out into the street, stepped between two parked cars and fell into step with the marchers.

‘Where are you heading?’ he shouted to a man walking next to him.

‘Parliament Square!’

‘I didn’t think you were allowed to protest outside Parliament these days,’ Mark said, as he dodged the wing mirror of a parked van.

‘You’re not, but what kind of a democracy prevents you from protesting when and where you want?’

‘A shit one!’ Mark said angrily.

‘You got that right.’ The man held his hand up for a high five, which Mark duly delivered with a resounding smack.

‘Protesting never does much good though,’ Mark told him. ‘The bastards just ignore you and do what they want anyway. The people don’t matter, only the corporations matter these days.’

‘It depends on the sort of protest you do,’ the man said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we’re into affirmative action, not this pussy footing about shouting and waving banners.’

‘Isn’t that what you’re doing now?’ Mark said.

‘Now, yes, but when we get to where we want to be, it’s going be a whole different story.’

‘Affirmative action? What, violence?’

‘What other type is there? Violence is the only way to get noticed or to get anything done. It worked for Nelson Mandela and the ANC in the name of freedom and it also worked in Northern Ireland. Christ, Nelson Mandela is hailed all over the world and at one time he was deemed one of the biggest terrorists going. There’s even a statue of him in Parliament Square, you’ll see it soon if you stick with us.’

Mark considered the man next to him. He had a dirty, unshaven face with multiple piercings, and tattoos all over; a typical anarchist type. But then what he said made sense and he was all for affirmative action. Yes, violence was the key to change. He liked the sound of it. ‘You can count me in!’ he yelled as the chanting swelled again.

The man grinned and gave him the thumbs up as he joined in with the crowd once more.

After twenty minutes the protestors had merged with many others who had prearranged a route on the way to the square. Usually the police would have blocked off their entry using an illegal but effective technique called
kettling
. This tactic essentially hemmed crowds of people in to a specific area and then held them there for hours and hours until they had burnt themselves out.

The Met had used the tactic for decades, while breaking their own laws in the process, but no one in the establishment cared much as long as the protesters couldn’t put pressure on the politicians in their ivory towers.

These days, however, the ever-present shadow of Impact Day had stretched police resources to the limit. Combine that with the major cuts in government budgets due to the never ending deficit and it seemed the protestors had chosen the right day to voice their opinions. The military would be out to enforce curfew, but that was still some time away and it enabled the protest to go unchallenged, for now anyway.

More and more people filtered into Parliament Square where at last a sizeable police presence had gathered, ensuring access to the Palace of Westminster itself was completely barred. Mark glanced back to see fresh reinforcements of police moving in behind them, preventing their escape; the kettling had begun. Mark already needed to relieve himself, but he knew the police wouldn’t allow anyone out regardless of their plight.

Darkness descended as the sun went down, and Mark’s new friend had disappeared somewhere. Looking about for a place to drain the lizard, he was pushed hard from behind and staggered into the people in front of him. The crowd compressed, its cohesion buckling as the police moved in to segregate the masses, enabling them to prevent any kind of unified resistance or breakaway. Mark had seen this tactic many times on TV; its use meant that protests were easily broken down and dispersed as the police saw fit. A sudden horn blast sounded off to one side followed by three more all around them. Cheers went up and people slid their placards down their support shafts, turning them into shields. Many also pulled out small visors and large flick extension sticks which they’d had concealed inside their jackets. Peaceful protestors had now transformed themselves into a makeshift army with equipment rivalling the riot gear used by the police themselves. The majority of the constabulary, however, weren’t riot ready; most wore standard uniforms and were armed only with their small batons.

The horns sounded again and various people in the crowd shouted out orders for people to converge and move into a specific formation. Jostled and shoved from place to place, Mark struggled to keep his feet as the protestors positioned themselves according to the ringleader’s instructions. Grim faces surrounded him; feeling vulnerable, Mark snatched a wicked looking stick from someone as they pushed past him. The crowd heaved once more as the police tried to manoeuvre them further, mounted officers using their horses to corral the dissidents like a herd of cattle.