Potential Part 22
- 3 years ago
- 24
- 0
War
Mark & Molly
2076
This wasn't the first time that Mark and Molly had sat together on the sofa transfixed by the vision of a huge slowly growing and self-enveloping luminescent cloud tumbling ever upwards into the sky into the now familiar shape of a mushroom. This wasn't even the first time that the couple had watched the image of exactly the same thermonuclear explosion, although there were so many others that could have been shown from either the last two nuclear wars or the current one. It might well be that there were other images that were somehow more dramatic, more evocatively posed or in some other way more striking. The most disturbing aspect of the image wasn't so much its cinematic or aesthetic qualities, but rather where it had taken place.
Somewhere beneath the billowing cloud of deadly radiation was the site of what had once been the world's most holy city. And now all that remained of the City of Jerusalem's three or four millennia of history was being lifted upwards above the atmosphere, towards the troposphere and even the stratosphere. The holiest of the Holy Shrines—the Wailing Wall, the Dome of the Rock and Mount Calvary—were now nothing more than radioactive ash being borne high into the heavens to rain down on the Middle East and, depending on the prevailing winds, over Europe, North Africa and Asia.
Unlike the many other cities that had been incinerated, annihilated, vaporised and irradiated, this was one whose name was known to everyone in the world, whose presence would be genuinely missed and for which many people had a genuine emotional attachment. For Molly it was more from her school day memories of having sung the verses of William Blake's Jerusalem. This hymn was performed everywhere in the period of the Government for National Unity as it was just about the only decent patriotic tune that had any relevance to England rather than Great Britain. For Mark, Jerusalem's significance was more in the hazily remembered Easter story whose events took place around an ancient city long since covered by concrete whose foundations had now been uncovered in the most brutal and radical way imaginable.
And now Jerusalem was no more.
If it was ever to be re-inhabited, it would be only after many generations. By then almost everything about the city would be charred, annihilated and perhaps long-forgotten. The spirit of Jerusalem might outlive the city that was now as totally obliterated as Judaism's most sacred temple in the age of the Romans.
Where now in the world was there a place for veneration shared by all pilgrims of the Holy Scriptures, whether the Torah, the Bible or the Q'uran? Certainly not Mecca, Rome or Salt Lake City. Nor, since the many retaliatory missiles hit their primary target, the city of Tel Aviv.
"I can't believe it!" moaned Molly. "I just can't believe it."
"Doesn't the Bible predict that the world will end when Jerusalem falls?" Mark asked anxiously.
"What, in Revelations?" replied Molly. "That's just a load of hallucinogen-inspired bullshit. St John the Revelator was some kind of First Century smack-head. And, anyway, where was the number of the beast, Gog and Magog, and all the stuff about the Antichrist?"
"Maybe the Israeli Prime Minister was the Antichrist."
"Not a very impressive one, was he?"
"I don't like this programme, Mummy," pleaded Monica who was sprawled across her chair in the corner of the living room. "Can't we watch something else? Aren't there any cartoons?"
"Shush, dear," said Molly. "This is history. You'll remember this day for the rest of your life."
"Why?" the young girl asked, unsure of whether she'd missed something important. "What's so special about it?"
"You see these pictures on television," said Mark. "Those are real. That is what's really happening. It's not a science fiction movie. It's a real nuclear war. And it's happening in Israel and Palestine and Lebanon and Turkey and all over the Middle East. Millions of people are dying. It's really very very important."
"It's boring to watch the same pictures over and over and over again," moaned Monica who wasn't at all convinced by her father's explanation.
The days leading to the launch of all-out nuclear war in the Middle East made the actual event seem strangely inevitable. The term 'sleepwalking into apocalypse' had been used again and again by media pundits as a description of how the logic of Israeli and Arab intransigence had driven them inexorably towards this defining moment. It was a cliché that described a real worry and didn't fully express the complexities of a dispute that involved several nations, some—such as Turkey and Iran—who weren't at all Arabic, and amongst which there had been various states of undeclared war for several years now.
The quarrels had become steadily more heated over the past few weeks and months as both sides tried to bring their competing perceived interests to some kind of resolution. Everyone knew that the real catalyst of the conflict was the presidential election in the fragmented United States. The relatively wealthy North Eastern United States and the Western Union were edging towards electing a president who whether a Democrat, a Unity Democrat or a Reformed Republican, was unlikely to be supportive of the increasingly belligerent Republic of Israel. In contrast, the more populous and politically aberrant Republic of North America was becoming ever more gung-ho for the Jewish Cause, whilst manifestly lacking the financial or military muscle to back up its rhetoric. As Israel's sole backer in the world became progressively more impotent, there was a sense that now was the last chance for Israel to employ its formidable military assets before they became obsolescent and useless.
The unthinkable alternative was for the Republic of Israel and its neighbours to compromise and arrive at some kind of mutually advantageous accommodation.
"I should be going to work," said Mark who was now working on a very peculiar workshift to accommodate the time zones of his employers in the Far East. "I could be late."
"I bet there'll be no public transport," said Molly. "And there'll be no one in the office when you get there."
"Why would that be? Israel's thousands of miles away."
"There's a risk of fallout. Internet communication will be flaky at best. Most people will be watching the news at home."
"I know. I know," said Mark. "But I've got to make the effort. I'll have to walk to the office if necessary."
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I woke up to a text from Amber “Morning baby how'd u sleep?” I got up and headed to the bathroom to relieve myself not texting her back. I was standing there doing my business and remembering the awesome night I just woke up from. I got done and headed to my room to get my crap ready for the hard day before me. Grabbing my phone there was another text. I flipped open my phone and saw it was another one from Amber. “Hey sexy hope I didn't wake you but I need to talk to you.” “What's up...
Straight SexI crept back across the bridge, glad that I wouldn't have to do it again until after we'd found Branka. Seriously with the walking! I sighed, and then crept up past the Emissary, leaning against the wall behind it, daggers ready. I didn't have to wait long until I heard the sound of booted feet marching. I strained to see in the dim light, but soon saw the flickering of moving torches in the middle of a mass of dwarves. They marched five across, the outer rows with shields overlapping,...
Jen collapsed to the bed and fell asleep without a thought. Half an hour later, a light knock woke her. “Who is it?” “It’s Sarah, the maid.” “Come in,” Jen said as she remembered where she was. A smiling face appeared when the door opened, and Jen saw an 18-year-old girl who looked as if she’d freshly arrived from Norway. Blond tresses down the maid’s back, clear skin and bright blue eyes launched mutual smiles. “I’m Jen. Pleased to meet you.” “You, as well.” The Manskers had no use for...
My target was to be a woman, possibly two women if I could arrange it. I cannot explain why but somehow I was more comfortable with that than had it been a man. There is a vast trade in substandard drugs, even substances like chalk sold as real drugs, packaged as if they were the genuine article. Millions suffer or die as a consequence of this vile trade. Katherine Eleanor Porter-Haynes had been the product of a woman of high English birth and an American philanthropist whose vast wealth had...
Lesbian