NASA and Riley had a huge press event scheduled. Instead of heading for the farm, the landing shuttle transported us to Duluth. We left the cats on board until we could bring them back to our cabin. We landed at the Air Guard Base and convoyed down to the Bay Front Park. Under the tent was a raised dais with a long table. Schmitt, Manning, and the NASA shuttle crew were in the middle. On the left were the four construction crew members. And on the right were Tabby, Jorge, and me. The military men were not to be found and Felix joined the security men on the perimeter of the dais.
Schmitt handled most of the questions and introductions. It was ten minutes into the reporters questioning before Schmitt asked Tabby to answer a question. A reporter had asked why we had cylinders as the main body of the ship and why were they placed sideways and not length wise with the kantele dish.
“We wanted to make as many components of the ship as we could on earth. It is just simpler and cheaper to bring up completed sections and assemble them in space. The best shaped pieces that could be transported into space are rectangular or circular cylinders. The circular ones are stronger. We sent out specification sheets to manufacturers and the five-meter by twenty-meter cylinders from a Winnipeg pipe manufacturer matched what we wanted.
“We didn't want to cut large bay doors into the sides of the cylinders so we put access doors in the ends. The cylinders had to be mounted lengthwise so we could use the doors."
“Mrs. Karpinen, why was the ship painted yellow?"
“We decided we needed a coating..."
My mind drifted from the talk. This was my first chance to watch so many people at one time in nine months.
Santa watched everything unfold according to plans. Hamlet was in position. The stage was set. All they needed was the right timing.
* * * *
The reporters in the front rows fidgeted, each struggling to get their questions answered. Some were science reporters and they seemed confident that they would be heard. The national network reporters were commenting from the back waiting for the small one-to-one news segments after the panel discussion ended. The most fun to watch were the locals. They struggled to keep from jumping up or were intimidated by the network people. Behind and to the sides of the news people were the local politicians and a few others with enough pull or money to make it close. And in the back were the masses. The unruly deliciously varied masses. Small children were fighting at the feet of their parents bored with all the talking. I soon spotted the FBI, state police, and Secret Service men watching the crowds. The Secret Service men were here because of the senators and cabinet members sitting to the side and the state police were for the governor. The security men were more interesting than the politicians to watch. They were at least paying attention to what was happening.
* * * *
Romeo was ecstatic. Hamlet passed the security personnel with ease. Romeo was the only other member of the Cell to be near the park. Santa and the others were watching live on CNN. Romeo had to watch everything happen in person. It was his plan. The rest of the world will remember Hamlet as the killer but all in the Cell would know that the real anarchist was Romeo. He smiled and watched.
* * * *
All the riotest variety of people, each different, each with their own set of unique actions; I was awash with sensory overload. It was the first time in my memory that I was happy in a crowd.
A little thing tugged at my mind. Too many people too much action. What was that? Schmitt was saying something about a presentation to me. The Brule Sioux from South Dakota was going to give me a flute. What was that tugging for my attention? It was over near the politicians. No it was next to the politicians. It was a man looking not at the dais or boredly watching the rest of the crowd. There was hunger with his watching. I followed his gaze. He was watching a cameraman.
I turned to Felix and stared at him. I couldn't see his eyes with the dark glasses he had on but I saw him tense. I turned and looked at the watching man. Felix talked into a small mike attached to his lapel.
Secret Service moved closer to the man. I knew I could depend on Felix.
The Sioux medicine man walked up to the dais holding a beautiful wooden flute with a red woodpecker head panted on it. I got up and walked around the end of the table watching both the Sioux and the cameraman. The cameraman moved closer as well positioning himself to film the exchange of the flute. I reached out my left hand for the flute. The cameraman tensed as if to brace himself and I saw a finger shake as it stretched to pull a small black lever.
The cameraman was down. My puukko was sticking out of his arm. The man scrambled for the camera with his left hand. He tried to bring the heavy camera back up. Tabby's throwing knife went into his throat and he stopped moving.
I had pushed the Sioux medicine man to the ground, turned and looked at the man who was watching. Behind me, I heard a security man say, “There's a gun in the camera.” People were screaming and running. I saw the watching man's face drop in surprise. I started to him. A gulp and he turned to leave but was stopped by a Secret Service man. He turned and another grabbed him. He started to struggle and they took him to the ground.
I was standing over the man. I felt Felix by my side. One of the Secret Service men put his arm up to push me back but Felix stopped him. The handcuffed man had the wide-eyed look of a deer caught in car headlights. I never knew why I did it or how I did it but I started to chant. Chants like the ones my grandmother would tell me about when I was little. I started with Finnish. Finnish seemed to give my words strength. But I somehow I switch the words to English. The chant started so soft no one heard it at first.
“...Kunnella, kunnella.
Listen, listen.
Listen to the cadence
Listen to the tone
See my eyes
Katse sininen
See the shades of blue
Look deep and see your soul
Tell me why
Tell me how
Tell me who
Listen to the quiet waters speak Hear the sound of the quiet waters See the water's blue Talk before you drown Vainamoinen sing Kantele breathes Flute whispers
The man of quiet waters sings
The waters of the earth demand an answer
Talk, talk, talk...
Kunnella, kunnella..."
The man was near a catatonic state but he started to talk. “The Cell ... I belong to the Cell ... We change history by deed...” I left.
Felix whispered, “What did you do?" “I just asked him why?"
“You know what I mean. You hypnotized him into talking. How the hell did you do that?"
“Do you really want to know?"
I saw him hesitate. He shook his head yes.
“When I was little my grandmother told me about singing runos. In Finland if you knew the right chant or runo and sang it correctly, you could make magic. I don't know if I made magic but I think I understood enough of the man's rhythm to put him in a trance.” I didn't want to talk anymore. My words seemed to satisfy him for now. I grabbed Tabitha and said, “I want to go home. I feel older than dirt."
Tabby replied, “You're actually five minutes younger."
“What do you mean?"
“We synchronized an atomic clock on board with one on earth before we took off. It was five minutes twenty-seven seconds and some change slower than the earth clock when we got back."
“Okay, I am five minutes twenty-seven seconds and some change younger than dirt. I don't know about you but that still sounds old to me.” She hit me.
We were left alone after what had happened. I caught on the news later in the week that a dozen members of an anarchist group call the Cell had been arrested. The TV showed a heavy-set man with a Santa Claus beard being lead away in handcuffs.