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THE BOSS, THEODORE Boston called his team together. The group consisted of one. The only person he trusted with anything this clandestine, profoundly immoral, and world-changing was his right-hand man, Joe Mr. Nondescript as christened by Humberto.
“Joseph, it seems our Alpha team is squeamish when it comes to TOTH.”
Joe nodded. “I thought as much. I sensed Fuego wasn’t an ally at that last meeting.”
“Yes, it seems they get all warm and fuzzy about the human race and don’t see the whole picture. Sometimes you need to trim the fat, and I need people on my side who are willing to save the world by eliminating some people.”
“Some people?” asked Joe
“Well, more than some, I haven’t worked out the numbers yet, but we are on the brink of a Malthusian Catastrophe.”
“So soon, sir?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“I’ve been hoping that nature would help us out. A meteor, God, now that would solve our problems. No muss, no fuss. Wham bam. That would take out just a limited area. Of course too big and we are all gone. We need just the right sized one. Maybe several in strategic spots around the globe. No, that’s probably too complicated. Actually, a nice old-fashioned plague would be a Godsend. The Black Plague, now that was beautiful,” murmured Boston as he rocked back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, and with a half-smile on his face, recited the following as though telling a child a bedtime story.
“1918 flu epidemic, 30 to 50 million deaths globally, 675,000 in the U.S. alone.”
1958-1961, China, - due to famine, drought, weather, and politics all rolled into one messy disaster, 15 million deaths per the government, and unofficially the numbers were slightly higher, between 20-43 million.
“1346-1353, between 75 and 200 million people died from the Plague, which took out 30-60% of Europe’s population.” The boss suddenly snapped up in his chair and slammed his hands on his desk. Without breaking eye contact with Joe, he added, “That beautiful little plague reduced the world’s population from 450 million to 350-375 million in the 14th century.”
“All we need now is a diseased rat hijacking a meteor,” Joe told the Boss and immediately regretted saying something so ridiculous.
“Exactly. And, that’s why I can always count on you, Joe, you are always in sync with me and the situation at hand.” Boston snapped his fingers. “I need you to get a team together of like-minded individuals such as yourself and start working on Operation TOTH. I want ideas by the end of the week, and things put into action within a month.”
“Within in a month? Um, yes, sir.”
“And Joe.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I wouldn’t discount that diseased rat aboard a meteor idea.”
“Right, boss, right” smiled Joe as he left the room.
“Outside the office, Joe fumbled for his iPad, mumbling, “He was kidding, wasn’t he? Better put that down just in case...”