ATOMS WITH AWARENESS
Once again, Major Richard Blaine finds himself forced to beard the mighty in their center of power.
ATOMS WITH AWARENESS
“Without reflection, we goblindly on our way, creating more unintended consequences, and failing toachieve anything useful.”
– Marcus Aurelius
After my question, there was a long moment ofsilence from Sentient, the alien entity who shared my consciousness,
and then, as she so often did, sheanswered incomprehensibly:
‘This life of yours which you areliving is not merely a piece of the entire universe, but it is, in a certainsense, the whole of it. Yet, sometimes it is hard even for me to remember thatyou humans are merely atoms with consciousness, capable of music and of murder.’
‘I repeat: what have you done?’
‘What I said I would do: healthat tribal chieftain.’
‘How?’
“Have you not been payingattention? Repeatedly, I have told you how your body has been altered, itsbiochemistry enhanced, your very atomic structure bolstered and reinforced.’
‘And?’
Her sigh breezed through thecorridors of my mind like a misunderstood ghost .
‘And your saliva isno longer sterile nor chemically neutral. Your spit acted as a catalyst totrigger a healing cascade within that tribal chieftain’s body.’
‘He’s healed?’
‘Not immediately, of course. But withinweeks, his legs, his heart, his lungs will begin to reassert themselves. Pity thepoor maidens to whom he becomes attracted.’
‘Pity his poor wife, you mean.”
“No. That one has brought most ofher grief onto herself by enlarging the normal isolation of a Gilded Agechildhood and minimizing her reasonably required duties as a mate and mother.’
I quipped an echo Harry Hopkins’ earlier comment.‘But do you like her?’
The President’s personal physician,HowardBruenn, jumped up and glared at me. “What did you do to him, Major?”
“Nothing, doctor,”
wanly smiledthe President, showing the patience, fortitude, and humility that he had slowlylearned over his long years trying to recover from the polio that was not poliobut was really Guillain-Barré syndrome.
Dr. Bruenn produced a stethoscope likea medical Houdini and began listening to the President’s heart while Roosevelt’ssecond physician, Dr. Draper took his pulse.
Buzzie, his pale young face mostly wideeyes, asked me, “Is Grandfather going to be all right, Major Blaine?”
I nodded. “Yes, he is.”
The Major General snapped, “Youcan’t make promises like that, soldier!”
I winked at Buzzie. “I do it allthe time, and I made you a promise, didn’t I?”
He bobbed his head in anenthusiastic “Yes.”
I dug into my left blouse pocketand drew out a glowing Spartan Helmet pin. “As long as this glows, you will knowwe of the Spartan 3oo still live.”
“Another promise you cannot possiblymake true,” said the Major General.
I wrinkled my nose at the boy. “I’mbeginning to think he doesn’t like me, Curtis.”
I was pleased how the boy’s chestswelled when I called him by his given name. I had guessed correctly.
Called nicknames by adults often make the young feel devalued, not worthy of respect ... inferior.
Roosevelt laughed along with theboy. I pulled a folded piece of heavy bond paper out of the same pocket and slipped it into Curtis’sleft jacket pocket.
“Here is the address of the firstyoung man I gave this Spartan Helmet pin to. He lost his father at Dunkirk. I think hewould appreciate you as a pen pal. His mother and he were mighty thin when I firstsaw them. The mother more than her son, Richard Widmark.”
Curtis frowned. “Why was that?”
Louise sighed, “She was givingmost of her food to her son, wasn’t she, Major?”
“Yes, ma’am. But no longer. I gaveher a leather bag that never runs out of silver dollars that were minted ….”
“On the year of Major Blaine’sbirth,” finished the President.
I looked shocked, and PresidentRoosevelt gave an almost back-to-normal chuckle. “Major, I read Agent Cloverfield’sdossier on you every night.”
“Why every night, sir?”
“I have quite a fondness formysteries as you might know, and your dossier is the most puzzling mystery, I haveever stumbled upon, for it keeps changing night after night.”
Curtis swallowed hard. “I-Itdoes?”
Roosevelt’s chuckle was normal. “Itdoes … Curtis. I can hardly wait to read the new section tonight.”
Fala padded to me, and I felt a weightlift from my chest as I petted him. I was going to get a dog if I survived thisdamn war.
I turned to the boy, no, young man.
“A dog teaches a boy fidelity,perseverance,” I winked at the President, “and to turn around three timesbefore lying down."
He rumbled, “You, sir, are incorrigible.”
“That was one of the kinder wordsHelen Mayfair had for me, all right.”
His face saddened. “I would nothave sent those F.B.I. agents to her had I known she was still grieving foryour apparent death.”
“It’s done and over, sir.”
His eyes grew hard.
“From what I have read in your dossier,I would not have been so lenient to General Eisenhower as were you had ourpositions been reversed.”
“I always thought of him as KingSaul to my David, sir.”
“Do not lay hands of violence onGod’s Anointed, is that it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are a hero, Major,”murmured Louise.
“No, ma’am. But, just so youknow, Sentient has healed your husband of cancer.”
“Why would she do that?”
Roosevelt looked at me oddly. “Becausehe asked it of her, Louise.”
Curtis cleared his throat. “Ah,what were your orders for Spartan Widmark?”
“That he obeys his mother and standwatch over her.”
“That’s it?”
“Trust me: in bombed out London that’senough.”
“A-And what are my orders?”
I smiled. “That you obey your motherand stand guard over your grandfather and keep him safe from Cerberus.”
“Who?”
I smiled, “Your grandmother.”
Roosevelt almost choked on hislaughter and managed to get out,
“The hound of Hades, a three-headeddog guarding the gates of the Underworld to prevent the dead from leaving.”
His eyes were wet with tears oflaughter. “You, sir, are quite the character.”
I shrugged. “St. Marok’seither built character in you or made you one.”
I smiled at Curtis. “I guess youknow what it made me.”
Roosevelt gasped through hislaughter,
“And once or thrice this past week, Curtis, your grandmother has more than earned that particular sobriquet.”
Photograph by Oscar Jordan.August 1932
The entry door swished open. Ilooked up. I had never before seen a door swished open. But the doughty EleanorRoosevelt had managed it.
With the two doctors still at hisfeet, the President looked up and beamed a beatific smile.
“We were just talking about you, mydear.”
