MIND FIELDS Page 33
“So what’s happening in the world today?” Paul said as he flipped on the TV.
“Three months here and you still haven’t left the big city, eh?” Darcy said. “Who cares what’s happening out there. We’re in here, in the shelter of the Rockies, in our own little world.”
“Ah, but if it were only that easy,” Paul said. “God, how do you find anything with this,” he asked Darcy as he played with the remote control. You need a new TV, one that understands English.”
“I’m not going to start talking to a TV,” she said.
“Ah, here we go,” Paul said, ignoring her, as he found CNN and put down the remote control.
“Ohh, that coffee smells good,” Sandi moaned. “I could really use some right about now.”
“Shh,” Paul said, trying to concentrate on the TV.
A picture of President Huntley Forsyth appeared on the screen. “President Forsyth officially announced his withdrawal from the ’52 presidential election today, citing peace of mind for himself and the American people. He still adamantly denies any wrongdoing in the death of Senator Stanton Cole, and both he and Natasha Cole, the granddaughter of the deceased senator, deny having had any sexual relations. However, a smattering of evidence strongly linking the two romantically continues to arouse — no pun intended,” the reporter snickered, “suspicion amongst the American people. Mr. Forsyth has vowed to defend himself vigorously against the allegations, and has chosen to drop out of the race in order to give this matter his full attention.”
A video clip of the president played in the inset on the screen: “I regret that I must withdraw from the campaign, but the American people deserve a president who can devote his full attention to the matters of state. They do not need the distraction of a distasteful case like this. I am therefore withdrawing and throwing my full support behind Henry Addison. I am quite confident that the vice president can continue to lead this country forward in the direction established by the policies of this administration.”
“But,” the reporter resumed, “the American people don’t seem to share the president’s confidence in Mr. Addison. Polls show that if the election were to be held today, Russell Stetson, the young senator from Maryland would win in a landslide. With the election only a few short months away, it appears certain that the Republicans will retake the White House next year.”
“Christ,” Paul shook his head. “And so it continues.”
Sandi handed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” he nodded. “Maybe all this was never really about a plot to kill Forsyth, Jess.”
“What do you mean?”
“The whole thing. The NSA, the neuronanobots, the mind-control...maybe it never was about killing the president.”
“What then?”
“Power. It was all about power. Five-hundred million dollars funneled into BNI as the NSA’s private slush fund for tech research, government control of the top tech research facility in the world, and this,” he said, motioning toward the TV set. “The ultimate power, their own puppet in the White House. It’s all so clean. If they had killed Forsyth, the investigations would have never ended. Sooner or later something would have tied BNI or the NSA into the crime, and even if they had gotten away clean with it, there would always have been a sense of mistrust for the man who rose to power on the heels of a presidential assassination. But this way, Stetson comes off as the proverbial knight on a white horse, the man who sweeps in to bring decency back to the Oval Office.” He took a swig of coffee. “It makes me sick.”
“I’m telling you,” Aunt Darcy said, “shut it off, and shut it out. You’re in Aspen now. Leave the worries to the rest of the world and just enjoy life. You’ve earned it,” she said, scraping the bacon and eggs into the serving dishes. “You’ve both earned it. Now come sit down and have your breakfast. It’s a beautiful day for a ride.”
Paul turned off the TV, and they sat around the table. The clanging of the serving spoon against the plate replaced the drone of the television news reporter, and the smell of freshly crisped bacon brought Paul’s senses back to the present. Washington faded further away with each passing minute, and the placid smile on Darcy’s face pulled Paul into a new sense of well-being. Aspen was starting to get into him.
___
Sandi trotted her horse, Feather, up the trail toward Maroon Bells. The granddaughter of Sandi’s pride and joy, young Feather bore an uncanny resemblance to her namesake.
“You two be careful now,” Aunt Darcy said as the two of them rode out that morning.
“Don’t worry, Darcy,” Sandi called back, taking care never to address her as “Aunt” again, “I’ll watch out for him.”
They rode up the valley toward Maroon Bells, trotting along the wildflowers and breathing in the life that coursed through the peaks and valleys of the Rocky Mountains.
“Slow poke,” Paul called as he raced past her.
Sandi frowned as he blew by. “Come on, Feather,” she said, prodding the young mare on, squinting to shield her eyes from the dandelion-like fluffs of seeds that floated down from the cottonwood trees. She giggled as she whisked past Paul, and turned back to taunt him with a smile.
That was the moment. It was as if life itself suddenly shifted into slow motion as she slipped out of the saddle. Feather could sense that something was wrong as he felt Sandi slipping from his back, but unlike that dream those many years ago, this time Feather slowed and steadied her pace, allowing Sandi to regain her balance and right herself on the saddle.
“You OK, Jesse,” Paul said as he pulled up next to her.
“Never better.” She smiled serenely.
Brad Aiken is a physician in Miami, Florida, and has been recognized by Miami Metro Magazine as one of the top physicians in his field in the South Florida area. He has published several scientific articles, and has presented to both professional and non-professional groups on a variety of topics.
Dr. Aiken has received numerous science awards, including the Navy Science Award, as well as awards from the Army, the Air Force and NASA. He began writing science fiction while in college at Boston University, and published his first book, Starscape: The Silver Bullet, in 2000. His book, The Starscape Project, was published in Nov, 2004.
His short stories include The Hill, which was awarded second runner-up in the 2002 Sffworld.com short story contest, and Billy Dayton, which won an honorable mention in the 2003 national short story contest sponsored by the South Florida Chapter of the National Writers Association.
PADWOLF PUBLISHING BOOKS BY BRAD AIKEN
THE STRARSCAPE™ SERIES
THE STARSCAPE PROJECT
ZONE OF THE TENTH DEGREE
MIND FIELDS
ANTHOLOGIES
NEW BLOOD