Kiss Off, We're Gone

On a small mountaintop in West Virginia, a NSA computer picked up on two trigger words,"chosen" and "interface".
A recorded telephone conversation days old, but the spook words never-the-less, . . loud and clear. The re-scan verified the data, then automatically generated an e-mail message to Department 45. Location : Georgia,USA.

The beginning of Part II.

For the next two weeks Ryan and Hanna laid low, waiting for things to return to normal. A county maintenance crew had come out and repaired the damage to the Guidestones monument caused by the lightning strikes. You couldn't find something wrong even if you knew where to look (and they did), because of the great clean-up and restoration effort . . . and in that they were very happy.
Their curiosity concerning the Interface grew daily and they found themselves testing its potential. At first they realized that it would only power on now if they touched it and willed it. It would only shut down the same way. They could do it alone by themselves, each using the mental fortitude gifted to them when they were born. And, they could do it together without touching it if they used their combined thoughts as a control mechanism ! The Interface seemed somehow attached to them, as if they were finally the masters . . and liberators of its power and use.

The strangest thing about the Interface occurred when they both used it at the same time. Ryan held on to the left side, Hanna the right. Immediately it sprang to life and held them both in a frenzy of white light. Ryan looked at the chair by the door and got another idea of how to test the Interface. "Concentrate on the chair", he hollered over to Hanna. "Let's see if we can make it dance!"
The chair slowly began to move, and as it picked up speed it appeared to dance away from the door and out into the middle of the room. It danced in circles, until they nodded to each other to stop. The chair became still. Now Ryan had another idea. "Let's make the chair disappear!"
Still holding on to the Interface, they willed the chair to be gone. Blue sparks flew out from the Interface . . . and they experienced such a jolt that they were forced to let go, both slumping down onto the floor in a sort of panic!
It was as close to an electrically-induced orgasm as one could get. The feeling, just no other way to adequately describe it ! Unreal !
And the chair . . . the chair was gone !

They tried other experiments, the results basically the same. A hat . . gone, a shovel . . gone. A glass of water . . gone! Feeling confident that they could make just about anything disappear if they wanted to, they then tried bringing some of the items back, and were unsuccessful. They couldn't make anything come back! Whatever they made go away . . was gone. Hanna and Ryan became more serious about their disappearing trick, realizing that their decisions, as far as they could tell, were . . . final!
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A memo from Department 45 to Alpha I : Proceed with caution. Energy bursts measured above normal limits.
Repeat, energy bursts exceptionally potent. Proceed with caution.
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They took their time setting the table, sipping wine as they put a fresh garden salad in the middle, a loaf of warm bread at one end and a small, but deliciously-smelling meatloaf at the other end. Hanna lit two candles, switched off the lights, and sat down across from Ryan with a smile on her face that reflected more than just the flickering flames. She was excitedly happy and it was easy to tell. "We've done it, we've learned how to use the "face"! Are we ready for the list now ?"
"Yes I think we are." He stared at her beautiful face, enjoying her smile, her eagerness. They had grown closer than he would've thought just a few months ago, their purpose just the same as it was, but clearer now. They were a team, a team of two mentally-gifted mutants, who now also happened to be lovers. It was probably inevitable anyway !
He raised his glass for a toast. "Here's to the list. May it be the right thing to do!" Hanna clinked her glass against his and said "Here here . . .here here!"

The night got blacker as the helicopter dropped off its load of fourteen elite Alpha I soldiers and flew away. In less than five minutes they were vectored and headed up the hillside, looking for the house believed to be the last known generating point of the alien energy bursts. They were extremely silent, moving as one through the trees.

Small talk over, Ryan leaned over to kiss Hanna on the lips, and found her veering off to the left, blowing out the candle nearest her with one quick puff. Immediately he blew out the second candle. They sat there in the dark, inches apart, listening. Something was up ! The usual night sounds that they had become accustomed to were no longer discernible. It was eerie, unusual, and they were both suddenly on their guard. Something was moving outside !
A bright beam of light flashed in through the window, followed by multiple red laser dots. Ryan and Hanna sat still, watching the beam of light work its way across the room, to where they sat. A voice hollered out "Hello the house, hello the house!" They remained still and silent.
A smoke grenade smashed through a window and landed just in front of them, filling the room quickly with bluish-gray smoke. And then a concussion grenade exploded, knocking them from their chairs onto the floor, ears bleeding slightly as they groped for each other. Crawling over to the counter, they reached up and grabbed the "face" and pulled it down to them. Unwrapping it, they each touched one side and willed those outside away!

And outside the fourteen elite soldiers from Alpha I disappeared.

Ryan climbed to his feet and rushing to the door he kicked the still-smoldering smoke grenade out into the yard and slammed the door shut again. Hanna's eyes were watering profusely but she was up and held the "face" out to Ryan, just in case he needed it again. He shook his head no, and walked around the inside of the cottage taking stock of everything he could. Satisfied that they were okay, he went over to Hanna and hugged her close.
"What the hell just happened?" "What the hell was that all about?" he asked.

"Jesus Ryan, do you think they were on to us that fast ?" "How did they know?" "How the hell did they know so quickly . . they . . it has to be the "face" Ryan, it's the "face", its power . . . somehow they're monitoring its power! " "What are we going to do now?"

"The first thing we have to do is get the hell out of here, and quickly !"

Department 45 to Alpha I : Report situation, over.

Department 45 to Alpha I : Report . . over.

Can you hear me Alpha I ? Can you hear me ?

Packing up took a whole ten minutes. Ryan and Hanna stashed what little they had into their vehicles and were driving down the dusty, dark road five minutes later. They drove slowly until they reached the paved highway, then upped their speed to about seventy MPH, merging in with the normal flow of traffic. They were heading north, away from Georgia and the Guidestones, to a place Ryan talked about in upper Maine that offered peace and quiet. A little town called Eastport that sat on its own island. Moose Island !
Ryan had the map and GPS so he led. Hanna followed in her vehicle, the precious "Interface" tucked in the passenger seat beside her. It would be a good two-day drive if they didn't push it, and that would give them some time to mellow and come up with a plan once they got there.
Both of them began to think about "the list" as they drove on.

"The List" was exactly what it sounded like, a list. But it was specific to them alone. They had decided on the contents only after many rough drafts forged over the past weeks. It was a list of things that had to be eradicated from society! Infectious, evil, corrupt situations or individuals that had to be dispensed with. Their purpose, especially after obtaining the "Interface", was to do just that. Get rid of them!

Ah . . . . still collaboration-less . . . after all of this. What's one to do, to do, to do, to do, to do,? But go on .
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Moose Island offered them an abandoned lighthouse for rent. They took it without a second thought. The new paint job couldn't hide the fact that the lighthouse had seen better years but they didn't care, it had other amenities more important to them at the moment. It was isolated, and it was big enough to work in without feeling cramped or limited. The bottom floor had been converted into a garage and they were able to get both of their vehicles inside and still close the door tightly. A spiral staircase attached to the wall wound up to the second floor, where the kitchen was located on one side and the bathroom with a large closet on the other. More stairs led to the third floor, which consisted of a small living room with a fireplace and a single bedroom off to one side. This would be their living quarters for the duration of their mission.
Another set of steel stairs led up into the now dysfunctional light room, where the giant lantern sat surrounded by thick-pane windows, quietly waiting for another call to duty that would never come.

Hanna and Ryan unpacked and talked back and forth about the list.

Hanna and Ryan agreed that government lobbyists had to go. Their bribery was corrupt and disturbing.

In the tiny living room, they broke out the Interface and positioned it evenly between them. Ryan reached out with his left hand and touched one end. Hanna reached out with her right hand and touched the other. Immediately the "face" came to life, sending out small but very visible streaks of white light. They concentrated. As soon as it began, it was over. They let go together. The "face" went silent and still. Ryan and Hanna retired for the evening.
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Morning News : SOMETHING STRANGE HAS TAKEN PLACE IN OUR NATION'S CAPITOL OVERNIGHT. MANY PEOPLE EMPLOYED IN THE CITY ARE SIMPLY NOT SHOWING UP FOR WORK THIS MORNING. THEY HAVE EITHER LEFT TOWN EN MASSE OR HAVE DISAPPEARED WITHOUT A TRACE. WASHINGTON'S FAMOUS "K" STREET, HOME TO OVER 12,000 LOBBYISTS, IS DESERTED. AUTHORITIES AND FAMILY ARE BAFFLED.

They went out and walked around town, hitting Dastardly Dick's around 10:30 for a cold Bloody Mary and any hearsay or rumors that might be developing. Little or nothing was all they got. Seemed like there might be a few jokes about the missing lobbyists, but no great sense of loss or sorrow. They headed over to Quoddy Bay Lobster and ordered bowls of New England Clam Chowder, eating slowly and listening to the idle chatter there. Still nothing of any great magnitude ! It was mostly just small town business as usual .
Ryan and Hanna finally made it back to their rental around 4 P.M. and turned on the news to see if anything else had been learned about the disappearances. They were stunned to find that a growing cross-section of society was heralding the loss as some kind of sign, or omen. A positive sign . . of change. Talk shows and talking heads ran with the stories, caught up in the strangeness of it all. Interesting times, to be sure !
Ryan and Hanna sat there knowing that even more interesting times were just ahead.

It was surprising how the world began to change, especially for those living in North America. The military- industrialized complex of corporate America, baffled beyond expression, seethed with impotence. There were no explanations for why things were changing, just empirical evidence that they were. People disappeared, seemingly for no reason. People of all ages. People from every ethnic background. People in well-known circles. People of power and position. And lesser-knowns . . they too were disappearing ! It felt like a . . . like a "purge" of some kind. Paranoia reigned supreme !

Hanna and Ryan sat together on the couch, watching the rain sweep into Eastport from across the bay, driven by a heavy wind. High tide was hours away but the surf beat relentlessly against the rocks even now, tossing frothy debris everywhere. The view from their rented lighthouse was spectacular and they were caught up in the natural fury of it all.
Over the past several weeks they had exercised their Interface cullings multiple times. Each time they followed the news on T.V., wondering if the disappearances could somehow be linked back to them. Evidently the authorities still didn't have a clue.
With every use of the Interface they achieved better control. As a matter of fact, after they had dispatched the 12,000 or so lobbyists ,they willed the energy bursts' footprint to immediately dissipate after each use, thereby destroying any brief trails that might have been monitored. So far, it seemed to be working.

"The List" had provided names and organizations aplenty. Many names on the "List" were entirely personal, derived from past experiences, witnessed and noted. Ryan had his primaries, Hanna had hers. Politicians, CEO's, shadowy departments with shadowy department heads, military personnel, corporate bigwigs, religious zealots, leaders . . . . and, followers.

Their biggest "coup" to date, however, was the complete disappearance of Area 51. Yes, that was them! They had made the whole Area 51 base . . . "go away". The nightly news aired all of the stories, creating a constant apprehension within its audience. For years Area 51 had been exploited by all. Now, it was impossible to locate, even for the past users. They couldn't find it. It simply wasn't there anymore ! So far, that had been their biggest achievement. They took pride in that ! And more was to come.

Hanna : Siege, how ya holding up ?

Siege : What do you mean ?

Hanna : The fact that you have no collaboration on this so far, except us.

Siege : Well I'm not sure if anyone even reads collaborative writing anymore, let alone participates.
I haven't seen any new entries to anything in this forum in a long time.
Ryan : We're with ya brother !
Hanna : Ditto !

Siege : Thanks guys, let's continue tomorrow.

Cabin fever set in and Hanna and Ryan found themselves restless and moody. They grabbed umbrellas and left the warm confines of the lighthouse behind, opting for a walk in the rain. The beach was completely deserted as they made their way through the sand to the craggy rocks above the surf. Seagulls and Sandpipers raced back and forth around them, fighting for attention and whatever scrap of food these foolish visitors might offer. The rocks faced directly into the approaching gales, and Ryan and Hanna quickly found themselves soaked to the bone. They closed their useless umbrellas, letting the rain pelt them at will, feeling the coldness and wetness, and maybe a bit of cleansing as well. They needed a cleansing ! A mental cleansing, if you will.

"Do you think we've done the right things ?" Hanna asked Ryan.
"What do you mean ?"
"The banishments. Were they all warranted ?"
"Yes, so far, I think they were all necessary and all justified."

"All of those people . . . a damn shame is what it is, a damn shame, . . . but necessary."

Sometimes you're chosen to perform, based on your innate abilities. Hanna and Ryan knew that they had been.
Mutants in a specific era, supplied with visions of each other's attributes and the visions of a shared task, they were literally impelled to use the Interface in culling the bureaucracy stifling the world.

Maybe now it was time to go public !

Sitting there in the rain, they discussed their next move. It would be, by far, their most dangerous move yet. It would almost surely reveal their location and identities. But the time had come to share their task with the people of this country. They would "enable" the people . . . to act ! A huge wave broke over the rocks below and splashed them with salty, cold ocean water. As one, they rose up and headed back to the lighthouse, hand in hand. There was time enough, for love.

A television station in Los Angeles received the first letter a week later, explaining its purpose and asking for honest participation by the station's management should they decide to be part of the disclosure. They were told a second identical letter would be received by a sister station of theirs in Boston, two days later. The two stations would then be asked to get in touch with each other, compare letters, and decide on their respective limits of involvement. They were to solicit requests from their viewers, requests for the "culling" of our country's impotent bureaucratic machine. Once a week, at a given hour during prime-time, they were to air the two most requested entries for a full fifteen seconds, and then return to regular programming.

Well, it didn't work! Not as planned anyway. The requests and suggestions from the first week consisted of pleas to do away with certain family members or local gang members. The second week is when the irony popped out in an even greater manner. One out of every three requests now asked for the elimination of the eliminators ! By the third week, almost all requests asked for their elimination. Ryan and Hanna were stunned at first, then deeply disturbed.
Had they missed something here ? Had they not rid the country of cheats, liars, and the corruption they wreaked ? Wasn't the country and its people better off now than they were before the culling ? If so, then why were the people so anxious to now get rid of them ? They were scared ! That was it ! They were scared !

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The lighthouse in Eastport exploded into a thunderous fireball. Pieces flew hundreds of feet into the air, only to slowly twirl down into the choppy waters off the coast.

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Anna : Hey Siege, you know they're on our trail right now, don't you ?

Siege : I know. They must've traced those damn letters somehow.

Ryan : Siege, we've got to get the hell out of here !

Siege : I know. You two get going !

Anna : What about you ? You know there hasn't been any real collaboration on this thread Siege.
Collaboration is non-existent ! Come with us !

Ryan : Yeah Siege, let's all go together and see what's on the other side ! Come on Siege !

Siege : If I go with you . . . well maybe we can continue to collaborate . . . on our own . . . the three of us.
Okay, I'm in.
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The Interface lit up as Ryan touched one end and Hanna the other. When I placed my hand in the middle, the light changed color from a fiery white to a dazzling, deep blue. I shuddered with excitement. Whew !!

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"We tried to right a wrong . . .
KISS OFF, WE'RE GONE ! "

" . . Puff . ."