Bo Jon slept that night-under the open-sky to relief any exerted-stress… He had brought-along necessary-packing equipment and sleeping-bags, hiking for 8-miles into roughed backcountry. Beyond the ‘limits’ of civilization, where he could feel, smell and taste the fresh-air. Though the night was cool, it invigorated him and helped to un-open the strain of bared-nerves. Beyond which he could let go of the stoic and staunch-air of stuffy-bureaucrats. But Bo’s mind didn’t sit still, he inhaled deep-breaths calming his-heart, mind and body. With each, the native-Indian was taught the ‘truth’, over-riding of hardship. By dead-of night he was sedated before a campfire-watching the flames glow hearing owls, wind and trees. Harmonizing with Mother-Earth, who knew all things as the stars in Father Sky shined-in acknowledgement. Growing stronger with every spirited-moment until intense-things fell away and profound truth then stood ‘naked‘…
Awakening to the call of Osprey, and the sun’s bright warmth. …By time the sun was full-spot to the Pantauch along the Bison Lake, he entered his resident-hostel. The steward in-charge of his welfare looking-in on him telling of his next-invitation to make a detail-explanation in the future of what was to occurred and what was the next-stage, in future-outcome. In the throes-of fears, pre-imminences and interstitials in allusion he was easily, succinctly, boding-to complete... Ahead lay functional permutations and productive-provisions, to him, was the annulling-call… The day consisted of the flying-down the water-ways that lead to Bear Creek and was a scanning and scoping detailing the system... Among other-intentions, might un-expose a new-‘light‘. Preparing his-records, notes, documents of research-study and accounting-provisions in atoning commercial and professional-vista... Emerging-to form an compiled assortment as to exposing facilitating coordinate-‘pacts’ and dimensional ‘pinions’, and oracle-to the digests of convincing and concrete-visional.
Replaying bits-and-pieces of the entire Time-line of evidence. Slowly, put peg-to-hole, then the essential-enigmatic, strapping-of the ‘crossbeam‘, and further preparing the free-standing structure that was a symbolic of further investigative-convention. It fell-into Bo Jon’s meticulous, ‘brain-span‘. He had several spots, quite out-of the ordinary.
***…Un-reported expelling of a certain-group of facility-buildings…properties… Which had a unrenowned, aversive-implication; he’d looked at several impudents for fish, game, river-works and streams-usages, while studying well-kept recording-banks in ‘over-head’ books. Which few-of the accounting commissioners had come to expose. …Pursuing fish-hatcheries, scientific-bioengineering and water-developments…and now, he put-into plot: plan-B which had the zeroing-in on: ”three”-sites… Having an established back-country residency, they were a well-equipped extricate on experiment-grounds; maintained for regenerating-forms of ‘Trout’…
***
It turned-out that two-twin facilities had high-bred Trout hybrids which had been accidentally, released. The government closed both facilities and placed a fine of $500,000 for clean-up and removal. The USFS issued an area-wide temporary closure period for the residents and offered replacement of all diseased-fish for the future. Bo Jon received a ceremonial-celebration and given standing-status as an honorable-Lead-Steward of the Inuit-native tribes…
The End
The Wilmington Project
[Three]
“I’m telling you, sir…” -“And I’m telling you, Steve. The mega-server can not be accessed-at this time.” “…To do so, would mean off-loading immense-loads of data, for one-single entry-portal.” …”If you think I’m going to risk this-operation that has taken years of government and commission red-tape to sponsor, I can’t do-it.”, said his head-supervisor for the meteorological-space observer-project, known as the Wilmington-Project… He continued his-requesting of his superior-in the motive of finding “one”-entry track, began the night-before… He was an associate, in his early-thirties, he knew his job-well. Hired-from M.I.T. three years ago, as the new-spearhead of space exploration-experimentations. Endorsed by the incoming-President; deciding-space was a rational, national-objective. While he was still a graduate, being asked if he would join the crew-of-elites, he jumped-at the chance. Scientists from around the country, where brought-in to take part-in the new-project. Known by its creator’s name-sake: Joseph W. Wilmington, one-time Nobel prize-winner in Astrophysics, Quantum Studies and Planetary-Science… …Steve Rheinstad, PhD.-Nuclear Physics, masters of Space-Studies and an honors as intern-at the Smithsonian-Institute…
***
4:06 a.m., Satellite-Navigator observer-709;entry-scientist:Steven Rheinstad… It had been a long-night. When Steve was at the entry/phenomenae/portal-located 4o lattitude, 21o longitude. An average night, he sat keeping-track of incoming, meteorological-data from rain-clouds to storm-cells to cold-fronts… This one was over the area of about upper-New Mexico… He expected nothing, unique. Carefully, inputting-data when the strange-phantom, appeared. An especially, hot-aberration lasting a number-of seconds, then disappearing. Steve, astonished that the ‘heat‘-rating went-through the roof… He quickly, jotted-down the detailed-information. Then, recorded it in the super-computer, deciding-it was worth uploading to the mainframe-processor and researchers’ technical-system…
His years, as a meteorological computer-bank specialist-nothing, with this great-power or strength ever-occurred. Seeing an intensely, huge heat-giant then drawing-back in its enigmatic-immensity. Steve looked with first-incredible astonishment then, disturbing-foreboding. Something he didn’t want to remember, or express… This amazing-entity he, not fully-comprehending or realizing. This, being of a rationale, he knew was his-job. He was accountable-now, responsible and the viable-operative…
…Spending hours peering at the featuring-screen-un-enveloping, data satellite-images. Focusing and reorienting scanned-portrayals: Nexrad, space-Telstar and tandem-rotating-random orbitals… In search of any-bit of evidence. If the head team-leader knew, he’d put-in such power-intense work he would be either put-in for a raise, or reviewed for level-reassignment…~
The amber light-screen reflected-off his spectacled, chiseled-face; glare-by sectional-maps, Trans-coordinates in-fast and repeated-action. Properties, in computer-data, was trying to reinvent regional-events as central down-time was approaching. Downloading 2 deka-seconds and closing-over 30-files… The file, was exquisitely-held in private-operator-cachet in certain, determination aspects; holding physical-”entity” only himself-aware of, for all he-knew… He would meditating more tomorrow, for what it would bring,(‘it’ or, him)…
“Ah, my comrades.” “…You have done-well, a virtuous accomplishment…” “…I announce to you gentlemen an achievement never-fully completed, till now… We, the ‘Durids” of post-Russian Red absentia have come-back like ‘Temeran-Warriors’ though we-hide, and have not taken the helm... We now, take the ‘command‘…”
“Iye, my-General.” “Ya’a, my propagator-absolver.” “Yosh. My Vos-Commander…” -They said, in turn. 18-men in outer-Siberia. Invited-by once, the Red Guard, now-defunct Soviet Republic, now long distant in-time…
Holding-together as a ragtag-team, with support from private eastern-block compatriots’… Who were knocked-out of leadership and left-abandoned; ‘ties’, bringing-together in a unified-force… Proud and unyielding, forging-anew a ‘reunion‘. After, a master-mind plan to amass supporters by renewed-socially, active-participants. Having little-trouble, being long left-in the background. They were eager-investors and diabolical-engineers. It had taken time… Careful and well-thought out, the tedious-’network’ that could-evade ‘suspicion’, a crafting of utmost, equalized exaction.
Vladimir Kokoff Dirmirtrec, socialist-general of the former-Soviet Special-Forces. Head of operations, so patriotic and in-fervor that he was never, de-ranked. Probably that his-respect ran so deep that men in the “new” stand-down was given ignored-passage anywhere-in Eastern-Europe… His supervisor answered to no-one… This, served him and his personal-‘will’, and competent capabilities… From hidden-funds, organizations and perhaps, most empowering-implication of a circle-of-Communist honored-factionalists. Merely, a matter of brain-power, planning, and easing-into final-result; no single-force could bring-into existence. That would be the “Serriot”-insurgence… Passed-over for years, a stern, but quiet devoted-party; faithfully& quietly, in the shadows…
…The pandemic politic-disturbance grew and hiding-it’s interests underground, without-ever being-found-out… Joining the Socialist governing-belief to keep an eye-on their separate-colleagues, and informing-on active-representatives. Open, in a installed-elected variably-mockingly, informing-upon them… ‘Bands’ in technical, governing-politics, and social-espousers; expose-to venerate, and fellow-stridently alter-venerate, propitiates… Erudite, scheming till having inside-‘insight‘ into projects, plans, poised-valued interpretations; formulated, in-seminal. Until, plan came-together; that, was ‘now’. As construction-designs and execution were done, as hoped…
[Eastern-Siberia: longitude 21o, lattitude 4o]:
***The abandoned, “Corie” facility for arms and missiles-station.-
“Sir, the report from ‘Seer-Enforcer’.” “Tuitat…sir.”
“Oritiat, my Lariat continues verifying, parameter-override of our Russian-orbital…”
“…Ah. Now, we conserve with our-basic predicates… It would not have been purchased in our ‘conundrum’. If not, for the installed-skills…”
He walked into a state-of-the-art hidden-facility, based in a central-building on the inset defunct out-post… Within, brought at the black-market, stolen in high-places, and through military-purloined spies… It had taken 7-years for the secretive enterprise fully, established after structural-‘gutting‘, by retreating Red-Army forces. To the moving-in of special commandoes, sector-emergent constructionists, and the professional-staff; fording, the master-plan’s specifications-of the mission... “Serriat-Operation”, was conceived and executed. It fell-into place, being Russia, with its vulnerable government and under-economy. …It was like shooting-’fish’ in a very, easily overcome socially, iconoclast-scrounged ’barrel’…
***~The general, was not only in-charge, but intelligent. Rising to the cause, and fully-competent to their precepts-beyond new Republic’s interests… Serge Operoff was a popularly, seared-official; liked by all members of the hidden-rebellion’s cabinet…
…The “Chairman”, and his subordinate Serge Operoff , where the spearhead-insurgents in the rebellion in a pact to revitalize the Cold-war. Infrastructure, by men and credo… After the down-fall of Red-Russia the rise of Peroestroike in the multi-state U.S.R. Some thought it a ‘step-down’ from power, and a step-back in Russia’s greatness. The long states-union had grown to one of the world’s Super-powers with its own self-rule, before abandoning strict Kremlin over-rule… In the early 90’s, destruction of the last stronghold: the White House, by the military-there, it began a subversive-reemergence of Soviet-recognition…
Many wanted the under-ruling, society returned to its former-order, ways and stridencies. There were men and women through-out the many Pact-nations, gathering and sharing this-belief that had lost national-control; military-men, bureaucrats, government-officials, found-shared support for a return, under any circumstances… Many people joined-forces there came a ‘nexus’ that going across Russia and a fundamental-grass-roots society; within and without, the new-culture and politic… Carrying-on occupational and acceptable-careers keeping the former, re-enacted-connectivity and increased-substantial, functional-flow of ideas, renewing-impetus, and directive-affirmation; resolving to return former unilateral-Pact... Dirmirtrec, ran the Moscow-unit, being-in the capital ‘overtly‘, an office-holder; gave-opportunities for him to gather-information and “insider”-data…used by assigned-operatives given duties in the Soviet-underground… Power and prestige, made him most ‘important‘-leader… Able to invite others in high-office to join, or give funds-to keep the system-going… He-was preparing to leave from his-home, in the suburbs of the city of Gorky. He had a comfortable-house; given a wealthy official-status. Dressing himself to go to the park, outside of town. He had a valet bring around his-limousine and gave him his-destination.
-He had his laptop-computer along-with him. They pulled up-to the guards at city-limits’-checkpoint. Explaining where he was going, and looked at one of the head-guard-men watching, conversing with other guards. He traveled-on. He drove ahead 12-yards, within minutes the officer knocked-on his vehicle-window. He did not say a word but glanced, at his computer-screen. He seemed to have found what he was looking for, said “Doestekdonia”, and walked-back to his-gate post. The message was known; Serge, now performed a transfer-of data. Dirmirtrec, telling the driver to return-to the house… The message was an order-of-declaration, “valuable”-to those, within for its exponents. Within 8-hours, at the hidden-site, in Siberia… It spread-across the union-of-devotees, congregates, and in-hours of approval and congratulation was expressed. Many underground-constituents had been making a plan to retake the Socialist-Republic, by overthrow. An immense-project now, would be activated from deep within the “cold” of former Soviet-Russia. A chosen few knew of it and as well, could curtail action to carry-out its plans…
***
Steve Rheinstad, sent an all nation-wide flyer e-mail-alert to respond by sending any-‘known, sightings’ to what having occurred… How and why, it might be explained. He was a serious researcher, assistant associate-researcher for Wilmington project. Began studies, over years of multi-regional climate, and geographic changes… He’d originated himself, a worthy-researcher working, his present-position. Given 4-hours, under master-system-control center-database… Then, he would return to his-duties… Looking for evidence, in what had occurred was not as potentially, simple as it-seemed. The bright blue-screen reflected-off his-glasses; he, trying to make sense of it-all. A silhouette screen, then nothing. He went-over it several dozen-times, unable to understand it all… He decided to take measurement-data. It had begun at 4o lattitude and 21o longitude, in a satellite-position well, above any orbital-in the vicinity…
***
At Maryland Conservatory, Chris was a military-meteorologist where he-was assigned. “So, Chris what have you come-up with lately?” Chris’s supervisor was fond-of him. He became an Armed-Forces weatherman after getting his associate in meteorology with the G.I.bill. He had a wife and a daughter in a marriage of 6-years, he was happy and respectable. And worked 3-years, to level of assistant regional-inspector: dependable, reliable and accurate. He was proud and content… …A regular, procedure-making monitor-patroller, registered details and logging in 4-hour increments… Phenomena trans-networked to air-ports, weather-stations and recorded for scanning-properties. At the terminal for 2-hours, when startled by something ‘almost cosmic’ in proportion! He wrote down: time, and put report into storage: ‘usage, in-study’… He reexamined it, in resurface. …held for military-weather climatologically reports, in armed-services and nati
onal-relevancies.
*** After a life in the Far-East, he’d become domesticated and well-oriented to his new life. He was professional and very attentive to all-parts of his-work… 40-minute intervals, came and passed-without any such new profundity. He had status, it was a considerable reference-representative‘s position. Beginning a descriptive annotation, profiling and analysis… A sincere-worker, studious at his job, duty and family, kept his nose to the “grindstone”. Staying an efficient, weather-observer. The responsibility, a spirit-of-contentment now, made as compilation…
[Three-days later:]-…He told Bo Jon, meticulously and straightforward-about Bo’s help and how he would be of assistance… “…Well, Bo that’s my story…” “We have work to do…if I and my boss our assured of this unique phenomena, could mean something really serious and important...” Chris was obviously, excited about what he had found. He told the whole-story from first-occurrence to future travel. New Mexico, and on to Malparaiso. Being the next-step. Chris, with assistance of the Bureau, he and his equipment brought were applicable to the project; mentioning how& what was to be done. He was well-prepared…
…The two were to go by hard-terrain-vehicle as “official-vehicle” to reach the spot, over rough-terrain. Bo-asked specifics, and what his-part identifiably, would be. “You are an official-liaison to N.W.A.” “That entails a hefty stipend, all amenities and a site-research-addendum…” “I will guide you, all the way...” But knowing your solving-skills, I don’t think I could do-it alone. After all, I had used them once, I thought, I’d return the favor.” “Okay, amigo let’s get started…” The early evening diner-meeting went into the night, they worked-out the steps began the next-day. Over 4-cups of coffee and several-sandwiches they adjourned to the nearby hotel to sleep the night. Bo rescinded his well cleaned ‘57 Cadillac to a car-porter and stowed his baggage; he had readied and they headed-South to Malparaiso. They conversed-over how he’d fared since his return to the states, and how he dedicated his life to the stateside, family, job and self-improving.