A Collision In Time
Chapter 17 – The Town Council

Success is not final, failure is not fatal, it is the courage to continue that counts. If you’re going through hell, keep going.

– Winston Churchill

May 18, 2289, Sandon, Texas Federation, Northern District

Dov awoke before the sun appeared, rolled onto her back, and listened to the soothing rhythm of Cara’s breath. She let the peaceful cadence comfort her like a cozy quilt on a cool winter night in Pachamama. She aligned her breathing to match Cara’s, inhaling and exhaling. Her eyes became heavy and she fought her body to keep from falling back asleep.

* * *

Dov sat alone on a boulder that overlooked the lake they’d first arrived at, outside Sandon. It was a cool, windless night. A half-moon reflected from the still water. The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. Dov turned her head, expecting to see Cara.

“Dov, how are you?” said Elder Brumion. He held his arms out to embrace her.

Dov leaped off the boulder. She silently received his embrace. “Elder Brumion? This feels real,” she said. “Or am I dreaming?”

“I think you already know the answer.” Elder Brumion pointed to the boulder where Dov had just been. “Please, let’s sit.”

Dov remained standing. “I’m confused, seeing you. I assumed that Pachamama no longer existed—we lost its signals. What happened?”

“It’s complicated. Please, let’s sit down.” Brumion walked to the boulder and sat down, waiting for Dov to join him.

Dov didn’t move. “No, I’m not ready. Tell me what you’re doing in my head.”

“Fine,” said Brumion. “Your mission remains the same, Dov, and I am happy to say you’re making progress. You must do what you can to bring Emerson to your side. He’s angry, undisciplined, yet he has such potential. At the same time, Modi’s desperate and thus dangerous. You need to unleash Emerson’s capabilities and keep Modi’s aspirations in check. Now, will you please come and sit? Let me explain.”

“I didn’t understand what you meant about Emerson.” Dov reluctantly joined Elder Brumion on the boulder. She leaned into him. His familiarity softened her. “Unleash his capabilities? Why is he angry, and how do you know all this?”

“Ah, yes.” Brumion chuckled. “I have the advantage of foresight. I have seen a future—and, I suspect, so has Asmodi—a future which today is in doubt since we have interfered. In that future, Emerson will emerge as a great, but terrible leader.

“Can you explain?”

Elder Brumion smiled. “Once upon a time, as the Old Earth expression goes, not very long from now, after increasingly desperate attacks on Sandon, combined with more pressure as a colony of Texas, he will persuade a desperate population to change course in order to protect his city.”

Elder Brumion shifted on the boulder. His eyes caught Dov’s. He had her undivided attention. “His strategic military capabilities and charisma will not only change the course of Sandon and Texas, but eventually shift geopolitics across North America. He will redraw borders and redefine the course of nations. He has natural skills and a mind that can see patterns that the rest of humanity does not. He is a warrior, but his anger and insecurity may cause harm.”

“But this future is no longer a certainty?”

“Yes, it’s uncertain.”

“Our anomaly has not materialized, though.”

“Yes, indeed, Asmodi has not succeeded.”

She shifted the subject and spoke urgently. “I want to know what is happening in Pachamama. I’m worried sick.”

He ignored her question. “I can’t stay much longer. Your progress is being monitored by both sides. I’m sorry, but I must go; others also need me. I promise we will see each other soon.”

“Wait, what do you mean, both sides?”

Elder Brumion leaped off the boulder. “Dov, you need to support Emerson.”

Dov watched him walk into the forest and out of sight.

* * *

Dov opened her eyes. She was back in bed beside Cara, who mumbled as she slept. Cara must be dreaming. Dov wondered what about.

* * *

Cara sat alone in the classroom and struggled to finish the graduate-level mathematics and philosophy exam. It confused her—not because of its level of difficulty, but because of the context.

The door opened and Mr. Burrows walked in. “Are you almost done, Cara?” he asked.

“No, I’m not even close.” Her admiration for Mr. Burrows passed. “The questions are simple, but I can’t figure out its purpose. Why am I writing this?”

He approached her and crouched to gaze directly into her eyes. “You are perceptive. Your talents are being challenged but I believe in you. One of the aspects I most like about you is your ability to be logical and persuasive. Your strengths will be tested like never before, but you are socially and intuitively wise. Tap into these attributes and help to sway an influencer so he makes the right choices.”

“Who will I influence?” asked Cara. “Why is it important?”

“You already know,” Mr. Burrows responded. “Now I must leave. Your friend needs you.”

Cara fell back into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dov listened to the town awaken. Roosters announced their presence; a faraway conversation of two workmen on their way to the power plant drifted in the window; the faint sound of the kitchen staff downstairs announced that they were readying for breakfast.

Now wide awake, Dov carefully crawled out of bed, headed to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. An attractive woman with turquoise eyes and hair of many colors yawned at her. Amused by the ancient ritual, Dov brushed her teeth, then watched herself while she washed her face. “I look tired,” she said to her reflection.

“No, you look fantastic.” Cara had snuck up on Dov and now stood behind her. “You keep changing your face.”

Dov smiled. “Sorry, yes. A bad habit of mine I’ve picked up over the years. Pachamama fashion. She changed the topic. “Did I wake you?” She studied Cara through the mirror. “I noticed you murmuring in your sleep this morning. Were you dreaming?”

Cara stretched her arms, reaching as high as possible. “I was. It was a strange one. It involved my old math teacher from middle school. Remember I mentioned him? He was an amazing mentor. Funny, though—he advised me to watch after you, or perhaps he meant Emerson. He wasn’t specific.” Cara laughed. “Interesting about our subconscious. Anyway, today is an important day. Lots to plan and prepare for. Are you feeling up to it?”

“I’m feeling slow this morning, but I’ll be fine.”

’Shall we go for a morning walk?”

Dov shook her head. “I don’t know. I think Emerson is our focus this morning, to help him prepare for the council meeting. If Emerson is as pivotal as the data suggests, the meeting today will be significant. We need to make sure he is ready.”

“We can do both. Emerson goes on his morning walks—let’s join him. What do you think?”

Dov smiled at Cara’s reflection, then turned around. “Are you sure you dreamt this morning, Cara?”

“Of course I did…” She stopped. “How come?”

“An old friend of mine communicated with me this morning through my dreams. It was an intentional dream. An implant. Information transmitted by superposition entanglement. Maybe yours was the same.”

“How would I know?”

“Implants are designed to sway you toward an opinion, so there are clues. Were the ideas coherent? Did your dream focus on a single item? Who was in it?”

“Mr. Burrows, a teacher of mine who helped me navigate some challenging times in my life. I think he was trying to motivate me, to remind me to believe in myself and also to help somehow.”

“You know how you forget most dreams, often right away? Was this stable? Do you still remember it?”

“I do.”

“Interesting.” Dov concentrated. “It appears we’ve both been targeted.”

“And?”

Dov’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know yet. I need to think about it, but it seems there are people in my life, maybe our lives, whose roles we don’t fully understand, and who seem to be particularly interested in our travels.”

Cara shook her head. “You are blowing my mind, Dov.” She walked away from the bathroom, then stopped in her tracks. “Imagine the potential of dream implants as a weapon. Is that a problem in your world?”

“We have firewalls on our bionets. It’s impossible to send an unvetted dream.”

Cara nodded. “Interesting.” Her voice faded. “Anyway, let’s go meet Emerson, and on the way let me tell you about my dream this morning. I’d like to hear about yours as well.”

“What an adorable home,” Cara said. They walked up the front steps and knocked on the green door of Emerson’s home where he lived with his parents. The partially covered porch radiated with life—pots and planters held flowers, bedding plants, and tomato vines.

A shadowed face appeared in the window next to the door, then disappeared. A few seconds later Emerson opened the door.

“Hi.” His voice was guarded.

“Hey Emerson,” said Cara, “would you enjoy a walk with us? We thought we’d take a hike, think about the best approach at the town council, and figured we could use a tour guide as we did all that. Also, we’d like to bounce a few ideas off you.”

Emerson hesitated. He stood silent, considering, but didn’t respond.

“When’s your council meeting?” Dov asked to hurry a decision from him.

“Not till two-thirty.”

“So?” Cara asked, “We’d also love your company.”

Emerson nodded. “Okay, sure. Let me just change. Take a seat.” Emerson gestured to the bistro set on the porch. “ Give me ten minutes.”

“He’s not much for words,” Cara said as they sat at the small round table.

“No,” said Dov. “That’s becoming a pattern.”

Emerson piloted them on his usual morning walk, over the creek and up the hill over the old road. During the first few minutes of the hike, they walked in silence marked by an underlying tension. They passed estate homes and acreages, walking until evidence of the town disappeared. The lack of conversation became deafening. Cara and Dov exchanged glances, unsure how to engage Emerson and break him out of his shell.

Finally Emerson spoke up. “The going becomes rough from this point forward—the road reverts to the old logging trail. Sandon doesn’t bother to maintain it since there is nothing for miles ahead and, anyway, it’s likely I’m the only one who uses it. I’m happy they leave it alone, to be honest.” He stopped at a viewpoint. “You wanted to pick my brain or something?”

Dov spoke first. “You’re right, we did want to chat with you. About Modi, to be honest. I know your experiences were difficult and this is a sensitive topic for you. But he used you, Emerson, and we want to figure out why. Do you have any idea? Did he mention his plans? I’m sorry, it’s very important.”

“Emerson,” Cara added, “look, a few days ago, before we came to Sandon, Modi tried to harm me. Seriously, maybe even kill me. Modi bombed the building where I worked. He killed people I was very close to. He victimized me, and I lost a very dear friend. We are trying to understand what’s driving him. I’m sorry that you are now involved, but the stakes are very high.” Cara’s expression had become angry. “If it makes you feel any better, knowing you are not alone.”

“We need you to be safe,” Dov pleaded. “We understand the danger you are in, and we know Modi is capable of anything. You were important to Modi; he went to a lot of trouble to kidnap you, and we need to figure out why and what’s planned next. We need you safe, Em,” she said again.

Emerson sped up his pace. “I appreciate the concern—I do. But I can look after myself. I have all my life. I think y’all underestimate me. Everyone underestimates me.” His voice faded. “I really need to express myself better.”

“We most certainly do not underestimate you,” said Cara in a gentler voice. “You were likely drugged or otherwise compromised by Modi and you are embarrassed. Do you know what I think? I think Modi chose you for a reason. He sees something in you. You’ve proven yourself as a leader, one he can manipulate.”

“A leader?” Emerson laughed.

“Definitely,” said Dov, glancing at Cara. “You sacrificed while in the pursuit of leadership. Jeannie told me about your committee work, your advocacy for a better Sandon. This was your first council meeting, was it not? This is leadership.”

“Sounds fucking noble to me,” said Emerson. He maintained his rapid pace.

Dov cleared her throat and started to talk, then stopped herself.

“What’s that?” Emerson asked.

“You have charisma, Emerson.” Dov spoke quickly. “You have the qualities that could make a transformational leader. Modi must be aware of your potential.”

“How the hell would he figure that?” Emerson snapped.

“And,” Cara interjected angrily, “who, at this moment, is being stubborn and selfish. A leader who’s not tapping into his natural wisdom and skill. You are meant to lead, not die, Emerson. You must let us help you.”

Emerson grew angrier. “I’m not sure you are telling me everything. Why should I trust you? You’re manipulating me.”

Dov grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Listen, we’re your allies here, and you know Modi means to harm Sandon. You know about our technologies and so you know we can protect you and help your town. We’re your friends.”

Emerson held Dov’s eyes. She returned his gaze and his face relaxed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge these last few days. I’m still embarrassed by my reaction to Elinda.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled.

Dov let go of Emerson’s hands. “Let’s talk about strategy, Emerson. I have a thought.”

“I’m all ears,” he said.

She started hiking again. “So what do we know? First, Modi believes you are a pivotal player.” Dov stopped walking and faced Emerson. “You must trust me now, Emerson. Our analysis indicates there will be a crucial event in Sandon sometime in the next few days, and information from New Denver and Silverton proves this is true. We also determined you are an important contributor to the unfolding events. So whatever you planned or whatever moves you take creates leverage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Emerson.

“Listen,” Cara said. “You being here unharmed tells me that Modi wants you alive. He aims to manipulate you for his purposes, and I’m going to guess he means to place you as a leadership puppet, a figurehead, to serve his purposes.” Cara eyed a pink rose on the side of the road, picked it, and inserted it into the chest pocket on Emerson’s jacket. “We can help you. Your speech to the town council can change history.”

“Let him think,” Dov subvocalized to Cara. “I can see him processing. You are doing wonderfully, Cara.”

“Thank you,” Cara replied.

“I almost blurted out that I have seen his future,” subvocalized Dov. “I stopped myself.”

Cara smiled and touched Dov’s hand, feeling the warmth of her palm against her fingertips.

Emerson stopped walking. He sighed. “Fine, but I think you overestimate me and the council meeting. I do agree that the evidence must be presented to the citizens of Sandon. I also agree that the nature of the danger must be better understood. Let’s head home now and you can tell me your thoughts.”

“Turn around here?’ asked Cara.

“Yeah, I just got an idea.” Emerson nodded as he turned around.

“Perfect,” Dov said. “Tell us.”

* * *

The council chamber radiated history. Emerson walked into the hall and discovered details he had not seen before: the elaborate symbols within the town’s coat of arms, decay on the inner walls, and the titles of books embossed in gold letters on the oak bookshelf. He wandered to the head table and paused in front of the mayor’s chair in the center. As the guest speaker, his chair was placed farthest from the left of the mayor. Not a commanding position, yet at the head table. It was step one.

“I’ll stand and approach the audience and be confident and command attention.” He spoke to the empty room, scheming out loud. “This is your moment, Emerson. You got this.” Emerson rehearsed his tactics and considered his plan, his art of persuasion. The less he needed to think about logistics and his presence, the more likely he would look natural and be successful in delivering his arguments. He examined the chamber to absorb the atmosphere one last time, requesting wisdom and that his memory would serve him well. Shortly the room would be buzzing with debate driven by ego, talk meant to distract, and conflicting points of view. There would be much speaking, little listening, and almost no communication.

His ideas would be challenging for the council. Some councilors would react with rejection and others would be defensive, threatened. Questions would be asked about Emerson’s state of mind. Jeannie, of course, would support him, but more was required, and he only had himself to draw from. “May the ghosts of this chamber bless me with the wisdom of Solomon,” he muttered as he took his seat on the far left at the front table. The survival of the town required intervention, and if the right decisions were not made, the fate of the town would fall to Asmodi.

The first of Sandon’s citizens entered, an elderly couple who took seats near the front of the hall. “Hi Emerson.”

“Good afternoon, Jane and Cheryl. Thanks for coming,” replied Emerson. “Hello James, nice to see you again. Hannah, hi. Allie, welcome…”

At 2:30 p.m. precisely, the mayor glanced at the old clock. With a nod of his head and scan of the council, he hammered the gavel to begin. “Councilor Jeannie Smith, you called this special emergency session today, on this fine afternoon, to address a request from Emerson Wright. I am sure many attending here today would rather be tending their garden, or at work. Please tell us what the emergency is. Has this anything to do with Citizen Wright’s alleged seduction by a pretty young woman from Silverton?” The mayor chuckled into the microphone.

Jeannie stood to address the council, shaking her head to ensure the audience observed her displeasure with the mayor’s comment. She positioned herself to address the townsfolk rather than the mayor. “First I want to recognize y’all who, as the mayor points out, interrupted their day, especially those who came from work. Emergency meetings are rare and I didn’t call this meeting lightly.

“A few days ago, Emerson Wright and I and several colleagues attended a meeting in Silverton. We were collectively shocked at the tone and belligerence of a man whom none of us had met or seen before. He refused to participate in serious discussions and worse, demanded that Sandon surrender its resources, and allow representatives of the Silverton and New Denver regions unfettered access to our town. The report, which we are now handing out, details the list of demands.” Jeannie paused as the report was passed out to council members and townsfolk.

“As y’all can see, the demands are absurd. They are meant to disrupt the delicate balance in the region. We left the meeting early and expressed our outrage.

“Later we found out that this man is a known agitator, and in fact, part of the reason we’ve had visitors in town. They’ve been following his actions closely, and are here to help protect Sandon and prepare for whatever he may have planned.”

Emerson took note of the white lie. It was half true—Dov and Cara had come here to protect them, but only later did they put two and two together regarding Modi’s identity. Nonetheless, the comment was generally accurate, if not specifically.

Jeannie stopped to let the information sink in before continuing. “He kidnapped Emerson, likely using a cleverly concealed drug or some mind-altering trick. Thank god we had our guests here to help. With their sophisticated equipment, we located Em and conducted a rescue operation. So with that as background, we invited Emerson to provide additional details. Emerson Wright, please stand and inform the council and the citizens of Sandon what else we found out.”

Emerson rose. He smiled, ignoring an unpleasant glare from the mayor. “Jeannie, thank you for the overview.” He cleared his throat. “As Jeannie just alluded to, our guests arrived in Sandon not just as tourists but as part of an intelligence team sent to help us. Their intel detected a significant threat to us, led by a man named Asmodi. If I may get straight to the point, the bad news is that this man has obtained an abundance of weapons and ammunition, and has mobilized men, who we believe will raid us by May 20th —”

“—that’s two days from now,” a voice yelled out.

“With how many men?” Another voice.

“What proof do you have?” the mayor said, seeming to leverage the interruption to cast doubt.

“Why should we trust these strange visitors?” yet another voice.

“Maybe we should send the mayor to meet Modi?” It was the same man who interrupted Emerson at the beginning. “I don’t believe y’all represented us well.”

“Let him speak,” shouted a woman in the second row.

Emerson sensed he was losing the audience and anticipated the sound of the gavel to bring order, but clearly, the mayor was not going to accommodate. He raised his hand and spoke loudly. “Order, order.” He waited for calm and raised his voice again, not in a tone of alarm, but rather in a controlled voice. “Order.”

It worked. The room quieted. Perhaps it was out of surprise, or perhaps a newfound regard for Emerson, as he stood calmly in front of “his” citizens. Emerson lowered his hands and began again. “Thank you. Now let’s have some respect. Please spend a few minutes reading the report in front of you. I’m sorry we couldn’t share it earlier, but it’s information that’s only hours old. It contains the facts you need to know.” Emerson glanced over at Jeannie, who nodded to him.

One by one the townsfolk finished reading the report but remained silent. They studied Emerson and waited. Dozens of eyes fixed upon him, some skeptical, some anxious, but most seeking answers. He gambled.

“Listen, this is tough. I won’t sugarcoat it. I am embarrassed that I allowed myself to be incapacitated. But what happened to me shows who we are up against. A cruel and manipulative, immoral man.” He scanned the audience. “I realize y’all may be hearing about this for the first time, though the gossip here is something to behold, so I doubt it.”

There was laughter in the audience and even a chuckle from the council chamber.

“Y’all worked so very hard to accomplish our miracle in the Kootenays; compare us to thousands of cities and towns across old Canada and the United States. From our mining operations and our power plants, food resources, and healthcare, we brought education, health, opportunity, and a better future to our children and grandchildren. Our prosperity allows us to be free and make choices unavailable to others. But now we are threatened by a man willing to go to any lengths for power. This is a potential evil we’ve not witnessed before. In just a few days he has manipulated our neighbors using division and hatred. So now we must prepare. You must ask the council to vote to ensure we ready soldiers and weapons to protect us. What have we got to lose but—”

“A lot of money, our neighbors’ wrath, and our respect,” the mayor interjected. “Instead we should send a peace delegation to speak with Modi. I am very sure he will listen to reason. War should always be the last option.”

The crowd murmured, and there were whispers of agreement.

“But only from a position of strength, Your Worship,” countered Emerson. “Trust me, evil men like him only respond to strength. They consume weakness. The evidence is clear.” Emerson began to feel frustrated. “Did y’all not read the report?”

“Or maybe,” said the mayor, “this is an attempt for you and Jeannie to take control of council?”

“Stand down.” Jeannie glared at the mayor. “You apologize immediately and strike that comment from the record.”

The crowd became unsettled once again.

“PLEASE,” Emerson bellowed. He held up his hand again. “I have the floor. Please show me the respect this council chamber deserves.” Again, the audience settled down. Emerson wasn’t sure he had it in him to continue, but he knew he had no choice. Emerson took a breath and calmed himself. “Even now, Modi sows division amongst us.”

He needed the mayor to be onside, at least for the next few minutes. “Mr. Mayor.” He pivoted to address him directly. “Under your leadership, Sandon has flourished. You worked tirelessly on our behalf. Our desire and hope are to preserve what you built, not force it down. Mr. Mayor, I propose a new idea. Let us—”

The back doors of the chamber flew open. A soldier walked briskly toward the city council. He scanned the mayor and councilors, then spoke urgently. “We are under attack. It’s a substantial threat.” He addressed the stunned townsfolk. “Please assemble your families at your homes, gather food and water, and find a safe place to shelter, away from windows, preferably in a basement. If any of you are in the volunteer safety or fire department, we are arranging a meeting at the front of the firehall. Also please fan out this message to your contacts. Now please move quickly.” The soldier left as quickly as he had arrived. For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Emerson grabbed the gavel from the mayor. “Who votes that council take all actions necessary to protect itself?”

There was a roar from the crowd. A few maintained their silence despite Emerson’s plea.

“Carried,” yelled Emerson. “You heard the soldier—go home, and take appropriate action to protect your family and your property.” Emerson banged the gavel on the podium. “Meeting adjourned.”

As they prepared to leave, Emerson approached Jeannie. “Can we catch up later? I’m going to head home to my parents. I’ll message you, I promise. Good luck, Jeannie, and thank you.” With that Emerson sprinted out of the council chamber and headed home.

He noticed people springing into action as he walked. Word had spread quickly and the town of Sandon buzzed with activity. A hum from above interrupted his anxious thoughts. Three drones passed overheard. He felt a twinge of frustration with himself. He should have warned the security committee yesterday—not that they would have listened to him. If he had been in charge, things would have been different. He would have ensured the town was prepared.

Gunshots in the distance brought him back to reality. He thought of his mom and dad and ran up his front stairs and through the green front door.

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