Chicago Illinois,
Saint Ann's Long Term Care Facility
March 22, 1998.
7 PM.

Rich was a not very good looking Caucasian man in his late 40’s. He had brown hair and eyes and several facial scars on the left side of his face. His left hand was gnarled and he didn’t move it’s fingers much. He said,

"And let's see what we have next. Ah, it's an article on Dinosaurs and new evidence on how they became extinct. That sounds interesting."

Rich turned the page on his "Economist" magazine and clipped it to a clip board. Then he started reading out loud. There were two beds in the middle of the room; one had a pretty 13 year old girl who was apparently asleep. There was some family resemblance between her and both the men. Without the wear and tear Rich might have been pretty in the past. In the doorway to the room Bob rolled his eyes.

After Rich finished Bob commented, “Dinosaurs?”

Rich replied, “Hey, all kids like dinosaurs. And that includes Emily, right honey?”

The 13 year old in the bed didn’t move.

Rich continued, “Besides, Dinosaurs and the Economist has to beat Cosmo or those teen magazines which talk about nothing other than boy bands and clothes.”

There was no family resemblance between Bob and Rich, but the ease between them suggested that this was a conversation they’d had before. Bob might have been in his mid or late 60’s. His hair was white and he was carrying a cardboard box. He asked,

“Any change?”

Rich replied, “Her eyes moved a bit ago. I thought I saw her hand twitch as well… about the same time I read Sam’s email. Guess who wants to be a model?”

Bob said, “Her mother tried that on me at about the same age. I kept harping on how she needed a backup plan. She’s pretty enough, but being a model doesn’t take ‘pretty’, it takes ‘luck’.”

Rich said, “Agreed. I think it’d be good for her to hear that from both of us though. She doesn’t have to be an Atomic Engineer, but being a model really stacks the odds against her.”

Both men didn’t comment on who else had odds stacked against her. Rich nodded towards the box Bob was carrying and asked,

“What’s in the box?”

Bob said, “New concept: Talking books. Someone else read a book and recorded it.”

Rich said, “Hmm… sounds like cheating. Sounds pretty good actually, at least for when we’re not here. I doubt her people will mind.”

Rich nodded towards the other bed and both men frowned in disapproval. The other bed held “Sue”, a woman in her early 20’s who was also in a coma. Neither man had ever spotted any family visiting her but the staff had said she had some.

Rich asked, “What’s the first one?”

Bob said, “The Lord of the Rings.”

Rich said, “Fantasy. I don’t suppose you have American Engineer in there?”

Bob said, “Nope. I’ll leave that one to you. Speaking of which, what’s next?”

Rich said, “New advancements in fiber optic technology. This is the Economist's technology review issue.”

Bob said dryly, “How exciting”.

Rich ignored him, sat back down, adjusted his clipboard, and started reading again.

At 10pm, there was a light knock on the door. Erin, the night supervisor, stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Stevenson...," she said.

Rich closed his Economist on his finger.

"I know, lights out," he replied, "just finishing this article."

"Ok, Mr. Stevenson. Good night." She retreated.

"Good night, Erin."

When the article was finished, and he had kissed Emily on her forehead, he stood for a moment looking at her.

Her eyes were closed, her face in gentle repose. She simply looked asleep. And, in fact, that is what the doctors kept assuring him. Minimal damage to the brain initially, already completely repaired, there was no reason she shouldn't wake up any minute.

She has changed so much since she was seven. God, six years. He could barely wrap his mind around that fact. Six years. She has hit puberty, soon she will be a woman. And yet... Her arms were curled in a foetal position, normal in coma patients but it made her look unnatural. She was very thin, again normal for people in comas, but he remembered a solid toddler, and a kid who had a round baby-fat face. This young woman had well-defined cheekbones and slim shoulders. She looked...

She looked like Alice.

He took a deep breath. Again.

The nurses were going to bodily remove him if he didn't leave soon. They had done it before. He kissed his daughter again.

"We'll save Tolkien for tomorrow, honey. I have to leave for Lancaster in the morning, but I'll come by and put one on before I head for the airport. Have a good night. Love you, Em."

He left the hospital quickly, as usual full of emotion.

It took Rich 13 minutes to get home from Long Term Care Facility, after Sam had moved to college he'd changed appartments. Smaller, cheaper, and closer to Em.

Walking in he glanced at the eye sore of six moving boxes stacked against the wall. After more than a year he still hadn't completely unpacked. As always he decided he would do something about them... later.

Rich fixed himself a snack and reviewed his travel plans for tomorrow. He was already packed, he'd done this dozens of times before. Up at 6, then O'Hare, then it was off to Lancaster Pennsylvania. There he'd rent a car and go to "Peach Bottom" where he'd start the 'routine' audit. Peach's safty record was good but not perfect, and when it came to atomic power plants "not perfect" had a way to come back and bite you.

Rich yawned and decided against turning on the TV. He didn't have cable and he did need his sleep. With practiced effort he undressed and was quickly asleep.

The alarm went off at six am. He was all packed, so a quick shower was all he needed. He was dressing when he caught the flash in the mirror over the dresser. He turned towards the mirror, but it was gone. He bent and tied his shoes, grabbed his bags and headed for the door. He climbed in his car and backed out of the driveway. As he drove, he saw some of his neighbors on their lawns in their bathrobes, looking up at the sky. He reached North Farrell, and turned right. He braked.

Traffic was stopped as far as he could see. People were out of their cars. Some talked excitedly with each other. Some seemed angry about the delay. Most, simply stared at the sky. He turned on the radio

Rich considered,

*Car is still working. No EMP pulse, so no close nukes going off. Eclipse? UFO? One of those mass social things where everyone looks in the sky because everyone else is looking in the sky? Some marketing company faking an 'war of the worlds' thing?*

*Maybe the radio will make this a little clearer.*

*That's Clinton's voice*

...mourning the loss of nine men and women of the greatest courage and dedication. Hillary and I are disturbed and shocked by the tragedy of the space platform Galatea. We know we share this pain with all of the people of our country, and the world. This is truly a global loss. ... Just over twelve years ago, the nation lost six astronauts and one civilian observer...

*Oh. So that's what's going on.*

Rich stepped outside and watched the sky with everyone else for perhaps a minute.

Millions of people world wide witnessed the aftermath of the world's worst space disaster, as fallout from the satellite’s onboard nuclear reactor created a shockwave that circled the globe. The danger from falling debris is minimal, according to sources at Johnson Space Center in Houston, TX.

...

NASA officials insist safety remains their top priority and there was no indication that any safety measures failed.

*Nuclear safety isn't really their thing. Time to get out the cell phone and start making some calls. I strongly suspect we're going to get dragged into this mess... and I'd better check with the boss that they really want me in Peaches.*

Rich got out his phone, flipped it open with one hand, and using the same hand started dialing.


*This post was by Courier, moved from the Headline News Thread*

Richard gets through on the phone,

"..."

"Yeah, it's me. Put me through to him. Yeah, it's about the Galatea."

"..."

"Dave, it's Rich. Yes, I know the Galatea just blew up. OK, NASA's already saying there's no danger but that's fighter jock talk. NASA isn't known for their nuclear expertise."

"Worse case? The worse case is if the rods some how make it down mostly intact. Not everything will burn up on re-entry."

"Yeah, I know. It was always a bad idea. ... Dave, we need to have someone head to NASA and try to figure out where the rods are, and we need to have someone show up where ever something comes down. It doesn't need to be me, but we need to send someone. Given everything that's happened, do you really want me to go to Peach Bottom and count paper clips?"

"Rich, I haven't given it a lot of- ...I mean, my God, we never thought.." Dave seemed to flounder, then steadied himself.

"No...No, Rich, of course not. Peach Bottom can wait. I want you on standby. Something falls out of the sky, you be ready to move. Nice catch, by the way. I hadn't thought that far ahead yet. That's why we count on you. Thanks, Rich. I'll call you."

Rich hung up the phone. Started to climb back into his car. A flash in the sky caught his eye. He straightened, and saw a streak of light coming straight down. Mentally, he calculated trajectory. Damn close...

Instinctively, he took a step back. The falling object streaked down about twelve cars ahead of him. The concussion was massive, throwing vehicles and people back. Richard blew back several feet, stumbled and fell. When he found right side up again, he levered himself up on his elbows and saw the edge of a crater ending right at his nose. He stood shakily. A trench led back from the crater at least sixty feet. He leaned over, and looked down into the crater.

A nude woman lay at the bottom of the molten blacktop and rock. Around her neck and wrists were twisted metal bands. There was no mark on her, and as he watched incredulously, Rich saw her chest rise and fall.

Rich stared at the woman and tried to make sense of everything.

*She fell from the sky? No, impact was next to her. Shockwave ripped her clothes off. And she's able to lay in liquid rock because... um...*

*Do things first, think about the 'why' later. And don't mention some of the wilder parts to 911.*

Richard reached into his wallet and took out his I'm f*cked card, looked at it, then clipped it to his shirt. If it changed color that would indicate he'd been exposed to radiation. Of course unless he paid close attention it'd only warn him *after* the fact. Ideally he'd be in a group of people who also had cards so he could watch theirs. Of course ideally he'd be reading about this in the paper and not on site.

Rich got out his cell phone again and dialed '911'. Assuming he gets through he says,

"This is Richard Stevenson, I'm at [location as best he can], and there's been a large explosion here. I think a piece of the space lab fell here, but that doesn't really matter. There's dead an injured here, and there's a woman trapped at the bottom of a pit."

"No sir, I'm a safety inspector. We don't have senses of humor about these sorts of things."


Regardless of whether he gets through to 911, Rich dials his boss's secretary again.

"Yeah, it's me again. We had an impact here... and something really odd is going on. You kind of have to see it to believe it, but we're going to want some kind of containment crew here. I don't see any radiation yet..."

The 911 call goes through. So does the call to Dave. Then his cell dies. He glances down at the radiation counter tag, and is dismayed to see it turn black in front of his eyes. A quick look at the crowd confirmed his worst fears.

Already, the people in the crowd were scratching at their arms and necks. Faces were turning reddish. Some were mopping their brow. As he looked, a woman fainted. His skin began to itch.

A dull throb started behind his left eye.