CHAPTER 11
In the Countdown Room

T Minus 0 Hours 12 minutes and Counting: (8:18 a.m. EDT)

“Wayne Stuart is on the line, Mister President.”

It was a sentence that Eli Jared both hoped and feared Helen Peterson would announce. It was 8:18 in the morning and the schedule called for Wayne Stuart to send off the programs in twelve minutes. Eli Jared gave a short clasp of his hands and then released his hands to pick up the phone. “Wayne?”

“Yes, sir, Mister President.”

“Are we A-OK?”

“We’re okay, sir.”

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Thank you, Wayne. Thank you.”

“I thought you might like to be here, sir, when I push the send-switch.”

“Oh, you bet! But I hope I won’t be standing in your light.”

“No, sir. I want you here. You have every right to be here.”

“I’ll be there in a minute—as fast as the elevator can take me.”

Wayne’s office looked like the control room of the most modern and well-equipped television network news facility combined with NASA’s Central Control. There were eighty monitors on the wall forming a huge rectangle of eight rows down by ten across, all monitors having a separate digital clock beneath them. Above the monitors was a map of the world with a white LED light at each of the designated sites. In front of that wall was a massive black console with dozens of rheostat controls running vertically and hundreds of different colored keyboard buttons. Sitting at the console, like a master conductor of an orchestra with instruments totally dependent on his touch that could send them into glory or oblivion, was Wayne Stuart.

He turned around in his chair when the door opened by Eli Jared’s unrestricted pass. Wayne Stuart stood up.

“Sit down. Sit down, boy,” Eli Jared said breathlessly.

“That’s okay. Sit down here, sir. I put a chair next to mine and you can not only watch the moment, but you can push the sendswitch when I give you the signal.”

“No, no, no. I’d botch it all up. You do it. But I would like to sit next to you and just watch what you do. You don’t need to explain anything.” Eli Jared walked to Wayne Stuart and both of them sat down facing the huge console.

“Let me just explain what’s going on here, sir. These monitors that are black right now—no image—are the eighty locations around the world. Forty-two of them are major cities in the United States and, as you know, the other thirty-eight are major cities of friendly nations around the world. I know you like to think in our time—in Eastern Daylight Time, but the clocks are all set to each city’s local time and when the send-switch is pressed all clocks revert to Greenwich time in those cities. We have to be on a single time all over the world once it gets to the underground. That first monitor on the top left is London and, of course, London is already on Greenwich time. Right now our time here at Sebotus is 8:22 Eastern Daylight Time. That clock on the north wall is a countdown clock showing hours, minutes and seconds counting down to T-Time. In other words, see those ticking seconds?”

“Yes, yes.”

“It says 0 hours, 8 minutes and 43 seconds. Now 42. Now 41. Now 40. Then, in—39 seconds now it will turn to 0 hours, 7 minutes, and 59 seconds. When it reads zero hours, zero minutes, zero seconds, I push the send-switch.”

“Got it. What do we see when you do that?”

“All the monitors will turn on. Don’t expect to see Big Ben, Times Square, and the Taj Mahal. You’ll see unimposing shots of small rooms, usually in houses, and people you’ve never seen before fiddling with computer-keys, buttons, switches, and controls.”

T Minus 0 Hours 0 minutes 16 Seconds and Counting: (8:29 a.m. EDT)

Wayne Stuart took a deep breath. “15 seconds. 14. 13. 12. 11. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Zee-ro,” and Wayne pressed the send-switch.

And nothing happened.

Wayne Stuart motioned his head to view every rheostat on his console, every computer control, every button, knob, switch, and back and forth at the totally dark monitors and the north-wall countdown clock that was stuck at T Minus 0 Hours 0 Minutes 0 Seconds.

Eli Jared’s head was moving to follow every motion of Wayne Stuart’s head and eyes. It was as though they were connected with Eli Jared on a short delay. “What’s up? What’s up? What’s going on?”

Wayne Stuart’s head and eyes did not stop their motions. “I don’t know.”

Eli Jared stopped his copying of Wayne Stuart’s motions. “What’s up, Stuart?”

This time Wayne Stuart didn’t even answer him.

“I said, what’s up, Stuart?”

“Can’t talk, Mister President. Can’t talk. We’re on a hold. It’s a hold. We’re holding.”

“Is it a built-in hold?”

“No. I don’t have any built-in holds.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Not if we keep talking.”

Eli Jared stood up and started pacing the room. “This is horseradish! This is God awful! This is the fate of our country! This is the future of the world! This is the most important action of world history for God’s sake.”

Wayne Stuart paid no attention, or tried to pay no attention to anything Eli Jared was saying. His concentration was on switches and dials and monitors and clocks.

“Stuart! For God’s sake, we put the lives of millions in your hands. I had faith. I had faith, boy. I don’t know what the blueblazes I was thinking. This is a tragedy! This can’t even compete with other tragedies! Was I crazy? I put everything in your hands!”

“Sit down, Mister President, and be quiet.”

He sat down. And he was quiet.

T Minus 0 Hours 0 minutes 0 Seconds and Holding: (8:30 a.m. EDT to 9:02 a.m. EDT)

A little more than a half-hour had passed spent in absolute silence except for an occasional click of a button. Neither Eli Jared nor Wayne Stuart said a word. Then, at 9:02 a.m. EDT Wayne Stuart made a sweep of his hand as he yelled “T-Time!” and pressed the send-switch again. And the room was bathed in light and color and moving images on monitors and animated digits of the countdown clock as well as increasing numbers escalating on all the clocks below the monitors. The room was a sudden host to a brilliant spectacle.

Wayne Stuart leaned back in his chair as he placed both hands behind his head. “T Plus 5 Seconds and Counting!” (9:02 a.m. EDT) “Now it’s in their hands. Six days to go for them and now they’re counting! It’s 5:02 p.m. in London! Or 17:02!”

Eli Jared stood up. “Take it away, Rosedale, and buck up a buckaroo! Oh, my God, you did it, Wayne! You did it, you did it! How did you do it, boy?”

“I did what I should have done a half hour ago. I just re-booted the whole system. I turned it off and turned it on.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“But how did that computer lock-up, or whatever it was, happen in the first place?”

Wayne Stuart shrugged. “Bill Gates. I guess he’s entitled to make one mistake.”

“A genius. A genius. I knew you were a genius. I always said you were a genius.”

Wayne Stuart turned to him in his chair with a big closed-mouth smile on his face, his head still relaxed in his hands that formed a pillow for him. “Mister President, just minutes ago, I thought you were going to have my head! And I apologize for being rude to you, sir.”

“I deserved it. You said what you had to say, son. I committed the sin of which I never wanted to be guilty. I stood in your light.”

“No you didn’t, sir. There is no way you could do that. You are my light.”