"We ran that power plant," the sergeant continued,
"for thirty years, never had a problem, not a hint of trouble!
We'd known about the problem with the emergency cooling system for ten
years, but had kept it quiet. Then, one of the old technicians died,
and the guy that the company hired was a Spir. We kept him away
from the cooling system for two damned years, then, without telling
anybody one day he ran a computer simularization and found the
fault. The computer told him that if the emergency cooling system
had to be used it would fail. The pumps installed would not be
strong enough to handle the back pressure, and blow out.
We tried to explain to him that it was a misprogram
in the computer, that we'd known about it for years and it was nothing
serious. But he went to The NRC! The experts came in and
declared the plant unsafe. It would have to be shut down, until
the pumps could be replaced, and it was just economically unfeasible to
replace the pumps. So they shut down a perfectly good nuclear
power plant, devastated the economy of three states.
We were desperate. The guys on the shutdown
crew knew that when the plant closed for good there was nowhere they
could go. I guess that's what made us listen, when the North Koreans
showed up...all that weapons grade plutonium in our bunkers! So
eight of us got in on it; six technicians and two security
guards. We modified a van, loaded the plutonium canisters in it,
and four of us headed for the coast with it.
Damn! God damned drunk driver hit them, killed
them all! Two of the canisters were broke open. They hauled
the stuff to a junkyard in the middle of Los Angeles up wind of a
kindergarten and a high school, and a hospital. By the time
anyone knew what was happening fifty thousand people had been
contaminated! Even when they knew people continued to be
contaminated. In the end there were seventy-eight thousand
dead! And there's parts of Los Angeles that no one will be able
to live in for fifty-thousand years!
I was on death row when they came looking for
volunteers. I didn't think they'd take any of us. But when
I offered they said fine. If the damned Spir had left us alone
left the power plant alone we would have never been that
desperate. We just wanted to keep providing for our families,
that's all!"
The sergeant fell silent, and continued to eat his
beans. The silence was finally broken when another sergeant spoke
up.
"Yeah," he remarked, "The Spir won't leave anybody
alone, even if they're not bothering anybody else. My brother was
gay. It wasn't anybody's business but his. He never
bothered anybody. He had a good job. Then this guy started
working there, showed all the signs that he was gay. My brother
started hinting. The guy told him to take a hike. My
brother really liked him, kept trying to be friendly. The guy
told him he was Spir, that they didn't believe in that sort of thing,
and to knock it off.
Well, this guy told his priest, or whatever in the
hell they are, that my brother was gay and working for a company they
were doing business with. The priest came to the office, told my
brother's boss that my brother was not to handle any of their business,
that he had been propositioning one of their people and they didn't
appreciate it.
The boss called my brother in, asked him if he'd
been harassing another employee.. My brother said he hadn't been
harassing anyone, just hinted a couple of times that he'd like to be
friends with the man. The boss warned him there was to be no more
of it, to keep his sexual preference at home. Some of my
brother's friends heard about it, saw this Spir guy on the street one
day, and started mouthing off to him, telling him he was an asshole
'cause he wouldn't understand somebody else's feelings.
A fight ensued. The Spir guy and one of my
brother's friends ended up dead. The Spir went crazy, came down
on the gay community in our town real bad, 'til finally most of 'em
just picked up and left, or, went real deep under the covers. My
brother blamed himself for the whole mess. I came home one day
and found him hanging in the garage.
The next Sunday I stormed into The Spiritist Church
and went after them damned ministers with a baseball bat. They
gave me fifteen years for aggravated assault! This ass ruined my
brother's life because he was different and I get fifteen years!
The world's screwy, it's just completely screwy!
These babies I fire now do a hell of a lot more than
a baseball bat! I'll make an impression tomorrow...a BIG
one! They'll learn to leave other people alone! God damn
it, they'll learn!"
A murmur of agreement went around the circle and
everybody nodded.
"How 'bout you, sergeant?" the major spoke up.
"Jose, isn't it?"
"Sir!" the sergeant answered, 'Yes sir!
It is Jose, Geraldo Jose. I'm Mexican Catholic. We were driven
out of Mexico after the Spiritualty revolution. I had served with
General Vafiades. They accused me of taking part in
massacres. I escaped, fled north. Have lived here ever
since. I went to a company picnic, didn't realize they were
taking pictures. They were put in the company newsletter.
We have a sister plant in Mexico. The newsletters were passed
around down there and one of the victims of these so-called massacres
saw me, recognized me.