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The Senator peered over the top of his specks at the husky man and young woman seated across and to the right of his desk. Then he
focused again on the document they had delivered for his review.
While the Senator read the report, the young woman stared out the window at the small pond where the mallard gracefully led a newly born
set of ducklings. The view of the small stream feeding into the pond made her fidget even more. The Senator glanced down at the young
woman’s legs as they flittered up and down nervously.
“Ms. Dickerson, do you have a problem?”
“No sir, there’s no problem here.” The young woman replied and tried to divert her attention away from her dilemma to the rustic
surroundings of the large log house. She scanned the twenty-foot ceilings with exposed wood beams and cedar stained tongue and groove
natural wood planks. The Senator caught the motion of the young woman when she turned toward the massive stone fireplace that
consumed half the wall.
“The chimney and mantle come from right here on my farm. Those are water worn granite stones from the river that runs through my lower
eighty acres.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it, and the copper inlays over the mantel are exquisite. Is that image engraved in the top picture the view from
your window?” the young woman asked.
“Yes it is. My daughter is an artist. She did that inlay for my birthday several years ago.”
The Senator returned to the report, but remained aware of the discomfort that the young woman continued to endure.
After a few minutes, the Senator could no longer bear the young woman’s obvious predicament. “Young lady, I recognize when a woman is
in distress. It’s okay, there’s no need for you to suffer. Go into the hallway and turn left, it’s the third door down on the right.”
Both men smiled while the young woman scurried out of the room and pressed her hands securely to her sides.
The senator noted, “She reminds me of my youngest daughter.” Then he removed his glasses and tossed them gently onto his desk pad. He
pulled the document to within six inches of his eyes and returned to studying the details printed on each page. Every few sheets, the elderly
gentleman would shake his head slowly as he interpreted the significance of the results. After he finished the last page, the Senator placed the
document down in the center of his desk and turned his attention outside to the large collie that strained at its chain to devour the ducks
swimming in the pond.
Without turning his head, the Senator pronounced, “What I have feared for so long, it’s finally here, but much sooner then anyone expected.”
“I’m sorry Senator, but we can’t discuss the specifics of the report in this unsecured environment. Maybe you should request a mobile
secure enclosure for discussing classified material.”
“I probably won’t be here long enough to justify expending the taxpayer’s money for a mobile SCIF. We can just discuss in general what all
this means to us as a nation.”
The senator looked back at the report lying on his desk, and then toward the only other person in the room, “Mr. Harris, tell the Director I
appreciate what your team has done for us. The question still remains, what are we going to do about it?”
At that moment the young woman reentered the room, just as Mr. Harris responded, “I’m not sure Senator, but something has to be done
before it’s too late.”
“I agree Mr. Harris; however, the solution will be very complicated technically, politically and socially. There are global ramifications to this,
and the way we approach the problem could explode in our faces.”
The room became silent as each person searched for something profound to say or share, but nothing was there.
The Senator stood up, rubbed his left leg, and walked over to peer out of the wall of glass that formed the entire south side of his house, “I
want to thank both of you for driving down here all the way from Langley to see me.”
Mr. Harris noted, “It was a pleasant trip, Senator. I love your farm. It’s very peaceful and serene. The mountains seem to reach up and
envelope you from all sides.”
The elderly gentleman turned toward the scenic view just outside his window, “I searched for years to find this place. We’re nuzzled at the
far northern edge of the Shenandoah mountain range. To the right you can see the eastern ridge of Brown Mountain, and off in the distance
to the left you can see the tip of Massanutten Mountain. The South Fork of the Shenandoah River forms the lower boundary to my
sanctuary. In the winter, when the snow blankets this side of the mountains, the view is simply breathtaking. I can sit here for hours and
watch nature slowly paint a white canvas along the ridgelines of the surrounding mountains. The pines along the ridge form fingers that
stretch down from the sky. I can’t get enough of it. No matter how long I stare out this window, it always consumes me. Regardless of
how much pressure and tension they send my way, this view grounds me to what really matters in the grand scheme.”
The Senator paused for a moment, and then limped back toward his desk to pick up the report, “Have these results been validated? Are you
sure they’re correct?”
Mr. Harris stated, “I wish the report would have turned out differently, Senator Robertson, but we ran the projections several times. There’s
no mistake. It will happen, and soon.”
The Senator shook the hands of the man and woman from Langley, “Tell the Director I am in his debt, and I will stop by when I get back to
DC next week. Also, I request that these results be tightly held to a small group of people. I’m sure they will eventually be leaked to the
press, but I would like some time before the report becomes the Sunday morning media frenzy.”
The stout man in the three-piece suit walked over to the desk and placed the report in the courier pouch. Then he locked and secured the
contents for the trip back to Washington, placed the key in his pocket and offered, “No problem, Senator. The Robertson report has already
been designated Top Secret.”
The elderly gentleman escorted the two guests to the door, and called into the hallway, “Davis, I need you.” The Senator walked over to his
rocking chair and sat down. While he watched the two visitors from Langley depart along his long driveway, he rubbed his left leg
vigorously, “Damn these old bones are really starting to ache any time I move around much. I guess I’ll have to go back to the doctor and
have them checked out.”
At that moment, a young man in his late twenties knocked on the door and entered the room, “Yes, Senator Robertson. You wanted to see
me?”
“Brian, pull up a chair and watch the evening activities with me as we figure out what our next move should be.”
“How did the report turn out, Senator? Was it anything like we discussed?”
”It’s worse than I expected, Brian. I thought we would have more time, but it will be upon us sooner then anyone has imagined. I hope I
have enough time left here on Mother Earth to get them to do something before it’s too late. Now that we have data that proves I’m not just
some silly old crackpot, I want to establish a study to help evaluate potential solutions to our dilemma. We need to determine our best
strategy for dealing with this situation before it gets here. If we act immediately, we may still have time to delay the catastrophe until a more
prolonged solution can be derived. At least, that’s my hope.”
“Senator, what should we call the analysis, the Robertson study?”
“No, I want no credit for what we have to do. Besides, Langley has already dubbed this one as the Robertson report. It would get confusing
as hell. You studied ancient history. What name do you think would be appropriate?”
The young man thought for a few seconds, “How does the ‘Osiris’ study sound?”
“I’m familiar with that Egyptian myth about life and death. I think it fits well. Osiris it is then.”
focused again on the document they had delivered for his review.
While the Senator read the report, the young woman stared out the window at the small pond where the mallard gracefully led a newly born
set of ducklings. The view of the small stream feeding into the pond made her fidget even more. The Senator glanced down at the young
woman’s legs as they flittered up and down nervously.
“Ms. Dickerson, do you have a problem?”
“No sir, there’s no problem here.” The young woman replied and tried to divert her attention away from her dilemma to the rustic
surroundings of the large log house. She scanned the twenty-foot ceilings with exposed wood beams and cedar stained tongue and groove
natural wood planks. The Senator caught the motion of the young woman when she turned toward the massive stone fireplace that
consumed half the wall.
“The chimney and mantle come from right here on my farm. Those are water worn granite stones from the river that runs through my lower
eighty acres.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it, and the copper inlays over the mantel are exquisite. Is that image engraved in the top picture the view from
your window?” the young woman asked.
“Yes it is. My daughter is an artist. She did that inlay for my birthday several years ago.”
The Senator returned to the report, but remained aware of the discomfort that the young woman continued to endure.
After a few minutes, the Senator could no longer bear the young woman’s obvious predicament. “Young lady, I recognize when a woman is
in distress. It’s okay, there’s no need for you to suffer. Go into the hallway and turn left, it’s the third door down on the right.”
Both men smiled while the young woman scurried out of the room and pressed her hands securely to her sides.
The senator noted, “She reminds me of my youngest daughter.” Then he removed his glasses and tossed them gently onto his desk pad. He
pulled the document to within six inches of his eyes and returned to studying the details printed on each page. Every few sheets, the elderly
gentleman would shake his head slowly as he interpreted the significance of the results. After he finished the last page, the Senator placed the
document down in the center of his desk and turned his attention outside to the large collie that strained at its chain to devour the ducks
swimming in the pond.
Without turning his head, the Senator pronounced, “What I have feared for so long, it’s finally here, but much sooner then anyone expected.”
“I’m sorry Senator, but we can’t discuss the specifics of the report in this unsecured environment. Maybe you should request a mobile
secure enclosure for discussing classified material.”
“I probably won’t be here long enough to justify expending the taxpayer’s money for a mobile SCIF. We can just discuss in general what all
this means to us as a nation.”
The senator looked back at the report lying on his desk, and then toward the only other person in the room, “Mr. Harris, tell the Director I
appreciate what your team has done for us. The question still remains, what are we going to do about it?”
At that moment the young woman reentered the room, just as Mr. Harris responded, “I’m not sure Senator, but something has to be done
before it’s too late.”
“I agree Mr. Harris; however, the solution will be very complicated technically, politically and socially. There are global ramifications to this,
and the way we approach the problem could explode in our faces.”
The room became silent as each person searched for something profound to say or share, but nothing was there.
The Senator stood up, rubbed his left leg, and walked over to peer out of the wall of glass that formed the entire south side of his house, “I
want to thank both of you for driving down here all the way from Langley to see me.”
Mr. Harris noted, “It was a pleasant trip, Senator. I love your farm. It’s very peaceful and serene. The mountains seem to reach up and
envelope you from all sides.”
The elderly gentleman turned toward the scenic view just outside his window, “I searched for years to find this place. We’re nuzzled at the
far northern edge of the Shenandoah mountain range. To the right you can see the eastern ridge of Brown Mountain, and off in the distance
to the left you can see the tip of Massanutten Mountain. The South Fork of the Shenandoah River forms the lower boundary to my
sanctuary. In the winter, when the snow blankets this side of the mountains, the view is simply breathtaking. I can sit here for hours and
watch nature slowly paint a white canvas along the ridgelines of the surrounding mountains. The pines along the ridge form fingers that
stretch down from the sky. I can’t get enough of it. No matter how long I stare out this window, it always consumes me. Regardless of
how much pressure and tension they send my way, this view grounds me to what really matters in the grand scheme.”
The Senator paused for a moment, and then limped back toward his desk to pick up the report, “Have these results been validated? Are you
sure they’re correct?”
Mr. Harris stated, “I wish the report would have turned out differently, Senator Robertson, but we ran the projections several times. There’s
no mistake. It will happen, and soon.”
The Senator shook the hands of the man and woman from Langley, “Tell the Director I am in his debt, and I will stop by when I get back to
DC next week. Also, I request that these results be tightly held to a small group of people. I’m sure they will eventually be leaked to the
press, but I would like some time before the report becomes the Sunday morning media frenzy.”
The stout man in the three-piece suit walked over to the desk and placed the report in the courier pouch. Then he locked and secured the
contents for the trip back to Washington, placed the key in his pocket and offered, “No problem, Senator. The Robertson report has already
been designated Top Secret.”
The elderly gentleman escorted the two guests to the door, and called into the hallway, “Davis, I need you.” The Senator walked over to his
rocking chair and sat down. While he watched the two visitors from Langley depart along his long driveway, he rubbed his left leg
vigorously, “Damn these old bones are really starting to ache any time I move around much. I guess I’ll have to go back to the doctor and
have them checked out.”
At that moment, a young man in his late twenties knocked on the door and entered the room, “Yes, Senator Robertson. You wanted to see
me?”
“Brian, pull up a chair and watch the evening activities with me as we figure out what our next move should be.”
“How did the report turn out, Senator? Was it anything like we discussed?”
”It’s worse than I expected, Brian. I thought we would have more time, but it will be upon us sooner then anyone has imagined. I hope I
have enough time left here on Mother Earth to get them to do something before it’s too late. Now that we have data that proves I’m not just
some silly old crackpot, I want to establish a study to help evaluate potential solutions to our dilemma. We need to determine our best
strategy for dealing with this situation before it gets here. If we act immediately, we may still have time to delay the catastrophe until a more
prolonged solution can be derived. At least, that’s my hope.”
“Senator, what should we call the analysis, the Robertson study?”
“No, I want no credit for what we have to do. Besides, Langley has already dubbed this one as the Robertson report. It would get confusing
as hell. You studied ancient history. What name do you think would be appropriate?”
The young man thought for a few seconds, “How does the ‘Osiris’ study sound?”
“I’m familiar with that Egyptian myth about life and death. I think it fits well. Osiris it is then.”
Excerpt 3
Copyright 2007 by Michael W. Davis
Michael W. Davis
Stories to touch the heart and mind
