Chapter 4: Gears in Motion
March 10th , 2014, 3:30AM EST
The Pentagon, Arlington, VA, United States of America
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming at such an early hour," President Obama began as he addressed his Cabinet. Hagel insisted that this shouldn't be shared with all of his team, but Obama, for the sake of both transparency and trust, swiftly shot that idea down as the two of them and General Dempsey rode to the Pentagon. With the end of that conversation, Secret Service agents were deployed across the metropolitan area to pick up all the cabinet members.
"Now what I'm about to tell you is deemed classified, though given the nature of this information, that classification will soon be irrelevant." He looked over everyone, all seated in the crammed briefing room, their attentiveness high, if not strained, given that some of them were woken up only an hour ago. "About five hours ago I was informed of an event so incredible, so impossible, that I couldn't believe it myself. I wouldn't expect any of you to believe what I am about to say, either… so I'll let the following images appear. Please hold your questions until I'm finished."
Taking a breath, Obama nodded to Hagel, who pressed a button on a remote to dim the lights and activate an 80'' plasma screen television, illuminating the wall just above Obama. On the screen was a satellite image of the floating island in clear detail; the image shrunk a bit and shifted to the left as a 3D render of the island appeared to the right, statistics rolling beneath the graphic. Based on visual evidence, comparing the size of the floating mass with surrounding geological and political landmarks, it's been determined that the island is about 800 miles from east to west and about 432 miles from north to south. Though the numbers were sketchy, sound pulses indicated that the island had a few mountain-sized features up to 5,000 feet tall, though most of the land was broken hills and what appeared to be artificial sewer-sized pipes. A single notable area at the peak of one mountain stood out, though the features on it were too small to be rendered clearly.
Hagel advanced through additional images, from the fires around Dubai International Airport, taken a few hours ago, to a satellite image taken just before the meeting started: a large, scalene triangular island now covered most of the northern Persian Gulf, all of Kuwait, and most of central Iran, the northern tip of the island about 60 miles from Tehran. Murmurs began filling the room before Obama put up his hand, silencing them.
"We estimate that around 8PM yesterday this island… appeared… over the Gulf of Oman. The United States Navy lost contact with the Fifth Fleet moments after the island's appearance. We also lost all contact with most of the Arab Peninsula, presumably because of the power outage." Obama looked over the crowd, noticing John Kerry leaning forward on the table, hands clasped, indicating that he already had a lot to say. "The loss of power wasn't just confined to cities in the area, but vehicles on the ground and in the air… judging from the damage, we estimate nearly ten thousand dead in Dubai alone, the numbers expecting to only go up once we can get people there to assess the situation."
A new image appeared, a world map in black with glowing purple outlines denoting nations and continents. It zoomed over the Middle East, centering over Saudi Arabia. A red dot, accompanied by a radar ping effect, dropped over Dubai while a yellow dot dropped over Riyadh. "Around 3AM Eastern Time we lost contact with Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia, and all of Kuwait, suggesting that the total communications loss was because of the island. We don't know for certain, but visible evidence suggests that the island… somehow negates electrical energy."
With an image of the island now on-screen, various cabinet members started groaning in disbelief. "Mr. President, are you really saying that an island that's larger than the state of Texas appeared over the Middle East, an island that is causing all electronics to fail? Is that right?" John Kerry looked at Obama, barely believing what he was seeing and hearing.
"This greatly strains credibility on every level," Jacob Lew, Secretary of the Treasury, said. "Even with images from our own satellites, how do we know they haven't been tampered?"
"I wish I could be laughing," General Dempsey shifted his standing position slightly as he responded. "All indicators show this island is as real as you and me."
"Not only is it real, but it's moving," Obama interjected. A series of numbers appeared next to the island, along with dashed lines across the world map in a stretched sine wave pattern. As the line expanded, it crossed over Italy and France, sliced through a sliver of the eastern seaboard of the US and Mexico, and traced a path through southern India and northern Australia. A triangle dropped over the current position of the island, blinking white. "Approximately 74 miles an hour from east to west, along this trajectory." Obama pointed at the dashed line on the world map behind him. Thick lines began drawing themselves vertically in equally-spaced positions along the dashed line. "If this trajectory is accurate, we will lose contact with our allies in Israel within the next 17 hours, along with Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria."
Obama stepped away from the podium and slowly walked to his seat at the head of the conference table, feeling himself age faster than he rightfully should, but ignoring the slight pain in his joints as he gripped his chair and sat down. Tenting his fingers and sitting upright, he continued. "In less than three days we'll lose contact with several of our Western allies in Europe. In five days, the island's effects will start to be felt along the northeast coast of our nation."
The room is silent at that, some looked at the world map, reading off the list of cities affected. Others held their phones tightly, as if they were electronic security blankets. Looking around and seeing the expressions on almost everyone's faces change from disbelief to grim reality, Obama glanced at Joe Biden, who sat upright, cross-armed, and with a look that, as always, instilled confidence in what Obama looked to implement, even in these impossible times.
Breaking his tented hands, Obama leaned back slightly and spread his arms on the table. "Are there any questions?"
March 10 th , 2014, 4:55AM EST
New York, NY, United States of America
"I would like to, ah, purchase your latest gazette, good man," Edgar said to the newsstand owner as nicely as he could without letting his curiosity of the surroundings overstimulate him.
A spark burst from the Greek man's radio speaker as he tried to replace the light bulbs that went out only a few moments before Edgar approached his steel box near the corner of 34th Street in Midtown. The rest of the city flickered briefly a few minutes earlier, though most of those awake barely noticed.
"A whaa? You mean the news?" The man didn't even look at Edgar, his concern for getting his stand visible again in the bright midtown area more important to him.
"Yes, I'd like to know –"
"Just leave money on counter – no funny business!" His frustration was fueled more from confusion than anything else, though he was glad to hear the sound of a paper being freed from the stand and some change dropped on the counter. When he looked up, his mouth dropped as he found himself staring at a couple of gold coins instead of quarters. He swiped the coins into his hand as he pushed himself over the darkened counter to find the source of the coins, but nobody other than a homeless person, some drunken partygoers, and a cop were to be seen amongst the moving cabs and trucks around him.
The Blackjack, Above New York City
The air crackled with the sound of popping embers as a space about the size of Edgar glowed blue, where he materialized a few inches above the top deck of the airship. Strago Magus welcomed his return by taking the handful of newspapers that Edgar purchased from the surface. "Excellent work, young man!" Strago's white mustache arched up slightly as he smiled, the wrinkles on his cheeks curved around his hidden lips. Despite the freezing wind, Strago's red cape and loose-fitting clothes consisting of yellow-and-green polka dot pants and a black shirt, stayed warm thanks to the air dampening field – a slightly modified Protect spell - that shielded the deck of the ship from extreme temperatures and weather conditions. Stroking his white beard, he began reading one of the papers as he walked below deck, with Edgar behind.
"Why did I buy these again?" Edgar looked at Strago with a smile as he watched him become absorbed with the text on the paper. They walked side by side in a pipe-lined hallway that led to the casino, where everyone else – mostly everyone – conversed.
"The best way to learn about a culture is through its current events!"
"Don't you mean books?"
"Bah!" Strago threw an arm in the air. "Do you even know what a bookstore looks like on this world? We're lucky that you were able to stumble on a merchant as fast as you did!"
"You gotta give me a little credit." Edgar jokingly acted like he was hurt by Strago's words. "Besides, I'm sure I could've gotten the information from one of the dashing young women I saw down there."
Strago groaned loud enough for Edgar to hear as he swung open the trap door in front of them, moving quickly to be rid of this man, though he remembered the times he played chess against him; the man was not all bad.
They entered the casino, a two-floored deck that spanned most of the ship. Well-lit by ceiling lights that were powered by the same energy that moved the ship, the upper floor, which outlined the lower, is laid with oak wood paneling with stairs at numerous points to access the lower floor. With several blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and a large craps table in the center, the lower floor had deep emerald tiling throughout. The windows on the lower floor were bordered with thick, ornate curtains, which looked outward to the vast city far below and in the distance. A few merchants manned the upper floor desks while the rest of the Returners – and Shadow – were scattered on the lower. As Edgar and Strago rejoined the group, everyone gathered around the craps table.
Terra Branford: an 18-year-old girl who was a former slave to the Empire. She wore a red, form-fitting dress with purple shoulder pads that brought out her white skin and mint green hair. Her apprehension is close to the surface, as the desire to transform into her esper self has been strong since they arrived on this world.
Sabin Rene Figaro: Edgar's twin brother, who gave up the throne to lead his life on his own terms. Very muscular and wore his short blonde hair in a ponytail, he wore only white pants with the bottoms tucked into boots.
Mog: a small, cream-furred creature with cat-like ears, small wings, narrow eyes and a single antenna that ended with a spherical, yellow poof. He was proven to be a very good dancer and poker player. He has brought a chair over to stand on.
Cyan Garamonde: the last of the Kingdom of Doma which was wiped out by the Empire at the hands of Kefka. Standing tall, his muscular body was covered with a blue armor adorned with the crests of his people, a katana strapped to his side. His black hair was tied back, his neatly-trimmed mustache covering his upper lip.
Gau: a teen that was found on the Veldt by Sabin and Cyan, his wild eyes belied a friendliness that only those on the ship truly experienced. He had long, unkempt green hair while he wore a loose-fitting, tattered tunic with several belts and talismans around his neck, the only ornaments covering his bare chest.
Relm Arrowny: a spunky ten-year-old girl with dirty blonde hair that was usually covered by a large red hat, she wore a black tube top that ended with colorful, puffy pants that were tied around her ankles. She always had a set of paintbrushes strapped to her belt. She was also Strago's granddaughter.
Locke, Celes, and Setzer joined the table as well, putting their game of poker on hold now that Edgar and Strago returned. Shadow leaned against the wall by one of the windows, looking towards the floor.
Terra smiled as she rested one hand on the raised edge of the table. "I'm glad we aren't affecting the people below this time."
"It seems that as long as we're about thirty thousand feet above the surface, our presence won't interfere with their magic," Setzer said, playing with an Ace of Spades card between his fingers. "They'll be fine."
"How was it on the surface, brother?" Sabin inquired, his curiosity as strong as Edgars. At that, the others at the table looked to him as well.
"Very… bright." Edgar laughed briefly. "Lots of lights in the buildings and vehicles of all shapes and sizes moving about. Whether they were powered by combustion engines or a form of magic, I couldn't tell. Quite fascinating!"
"I'm surprised you didn't disrupt their power source," Cyan looked at Edgar with some surprise.
"Well, does making the lights go out on a merchant stand count?" Edgar gestured to the two newspapers spread out on the craps table, one of which had some sections removed by Mog and the other briefly picked up by Relm before she slapped it down.
"Whoever made the paintings on this paper's really good – how dare they try to upstage me!" Relm exclaimed, more to get attention than in any sort of seriousness.
"Hey! Don't rip that paper, young lady," yelled Strago without looking up from his paper. He backed into one of the nearby chairs soon after he initially stood by the table. "Who knows when we'll get more sources of information!"
"Fussy old man!" Relm pouted, turning away from Strago and crossed her arms.
Mog slapped his section gently, getting a sharp look from Strago in the process. "The news here is the same as it is back home, kupo! One empire trying to assert itself over another, kupo!"
"Uwaoooo!" Gau howled, stomped and jumped in place while he gripped the table from excitement, his nails scratching the varnished wood.
Cyan patted Gau on the shoulder, calming him somewhat. "Indeed, Sir Gau. Sir Strago, hast thou found anything useful in their tabloids?"
"I'd certainly like to meet this fellow," Strago said as he flipped his paper around to show everyone a picture on the page: a black man with greying hair in a dark suit in front of a red-and-white striped flag in an assertive pose, clearly in the middle of speaking. Tapping the image, he continued, "Apparently he's the leader of the Americas, a free land."
"Free land, huh," Edgar nodded slowly while he reached for a newspaper section with 'Technology' titled along the top. "So this American Empire might be a good place to get answers…"
"Why would they have answers?" Celes asked. "They weren't responsible for bringing us here."
"We don't know that," Shadow said flatly.
"What DO we know, exactly?" Setzer stopped manipulating the playing card and looked over at Shadow.
Shadow's eyes, betraying nothing of the thoughts behind them, shifted to Celes.
"Well… we know that our magic greatly interferes with whatever powers the machinery and lights on this world," Celes began. "The Blackjack can knock out the energy from a small town, but Edgar walked in the middle of a giant city without his magic stopping machinery in their tracks. Therefore…" Celes snapped her fingers, thinking about the matter for a while. "…the more powerful the magical source, the more disruptive are the effects!"
"If that's true, we probably shouldn't let ol' gramps loose," Relm joked as she stuck her tongue out at Strago.
"You can't go down there either," Celes said to Relm. "Nor can I."
"Or me…" Terra said softly, looking away from the table as she thought about the other side of her, the chaotic esper that she worked hard to control, but still didn't fully understand.
"Look, none of us can really go to the surface without disrupting something – this isn't our world," Strago stood up and tossed his newspaper onto the table, its front page article with the pictured American leader faced towards the ceiling, the headline reading 'Obama Rallies Youth Voters Against Midterm Apathy'. "However, we aren't going to get any answers by hiding in the clouds."
"I hate to say it, but the old man's right, kupopo!" Mog said, his antenna swayed to and fro.
"Judging from some of the pictures in this paper and what I saw on the surface, I believe we're over what they call 'New York'," Edgar observed.
"If that's true, then this 'District of Columbia' capital city shouldn't be too far," Strago said. "From there, we can talk to this king… O-bah-mah."
Locke waved his hands while he shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait… We can't just walk up to a king and ask for help – not without knowing more about the castle where he lives and the surrounding premises."
"Talking like a true treasure hunter," Edgar said with a deadpan expression.
"If we send someone to the surface, they'll have to blend in long enough to gather particulars," Cyan said as he gripped the hilt of his katana lightly. "Particulars on the king, his whereabouts, and whether or not he has honorable intentions."
"Especially after what happened the last time we trusted a certain emperor," Sabin nodded towards Cyan as he cracked his knuckles.
"Then it's agreed," Locke said, smiling in anticipation for seeing this world himself.
Everyone looked at each other, contemplating the decision they were about to make, realizing that they had little option if they were to learn more about this world and possibly find a way home.
Setzer, deciding to speak for all, fished a blue chip from one of his coat pockets then flipped it onto the craps table, the token spinning briefly before it landed on Obama's picture. "Another chip in your pile! Ante up!"