text: Michael Pennington Zhena (Sample Chapters) 
   
   
     
   Prologue: 
     The old bureaucrat walked through the dimly lit 
  halls. He didn’t know what was in the majority of 
  the folders he carried, nor did he care. He only 
  knew it was his job to put them back in their storage 
  space. The modern world had long since gone to 
  electronic records. However, no one had the time or 
  resources to digitize these moldy old files. Nearly 
  all of them still had letterhead from agencies that no 
  longer existed, KGB, GRU, whatever. Most of the 
  people he worked for neither knew, nor even cared 
  that he or the files existed. The one thing he did 
  know was, bosses were all the same. No matter 
  what political masters they answered to, his life 
  hadn’t really changed. 
     Whether they called themselves communists or 
  democrats, they were still the same corrupt fools 
  who took the money. At least in the old days, his 
  pension may have been worth something. Now, 
  with prices going crazy, he feared he would 
  probably have to work until he fell over. When he 
  did, it was possible no one would notice for days. 
  For all he knew, they would find him in some 
  storage room half-rotted. 
     Hardly anyone wanted to see the information 
  stored in these ancient archives anymore. He’d 
  heard a rumor about wanting to fill the whole 
  complex with concrete, similar to what had been 
  done in Romania. But like most things, it had 
  probably fallen off some higher person’s to do list. 
  On the other hand, maybe someone actually decided 
  the information could be useful someday. Although 
  he believed that was about as likely as being given a 
  dacha in the country when he retired. 
     No, it was more likely the records, like he, had 
  been forgotten. At least he still got his paycheck. He 
  had been there so long; no one else understood the 
  ancient filing system. Occasionally some fool 
  would request an old manuscript and they would 
  need him to search through rooms of cabinets 
  looking for the one that was needed. When they 
  were returned, he would generally wait until a pile 
  of them built up and then just make one trip. The 
  documents requested were always from the 
  unclassified section. No one was crazy enough to 
  request information from the classified side. If 
  anyone did request a classified document, he was 
  required to notify security personnel immediately. 
     “Ah, this is where most of these go,” he said, 
  stopping in front of a non-descript door, one of 
  many on this level. He started jingling through a 
  large ring of keys looking for the right one. 
      Then he noticed the light in the stairwell. 
  Someone was down in the lower levels, the 
  classified section. He himself hadn’t been down 
  there for years. He had no reason to go. Most of 
  those files were from defunct programs or agencies 
  that no longer existed. He didn’t even think anyone 
  else was in the complex. Who comes three floors 
  underground if they don’t have to? Maybe he 
  should go notify his supervisor? No, the fool would 
  probably not even know who the old bureaucrat 
  was. He would have to take hours just explaining to 
  him who he was and why he worked for him. The 
  name of his boss had changed four times in the last 
  eight months. Once when he tried to contact his 
  boss to discuss a holiday, it took him six hours just 
  to find the right person. He considered just walking 
  away and ignoring the light. No, then if something 
  came up missing, he would be investigated and that 
  was the last thing he needed. Hopefully it was just 
  some idiot who didn’t know the system and had 
  come in and gotten lost looking for a file. 
  The door to the stairwell was locked. However the 
  light being on made him certain someone was down 
  there. He looked through his keys and found the 
  right one. He passed through the door and started 
  trudging down the metal stairs. The sounds his feet 
  made as they landed on the steps seemed ominously 
  cold. Maybe the concrete would have been a good 
  idea. 
     When he reached the bottom of the stairs he 
  entered another corridor that looked identical to the 
  one he had left previously. He knew it was different 
  though. These rooms contained files dating back 
  over fifty years. These were files no one wanted 
  released, but were afraid to destroy. As he began 
  walking down the hall, he peered under each door 
  trying to see if a light was on. If he was lucky, the 
  person had already left and he’d be able to get back 
  to his lunch and forget coming down here. None of 
  the doors had identifying markings other than nondescript numbers. Each carried the standard 
  disclaimer about severe penalties and prosecution 
  for disclosure of state secrets. 
       As he turned a corner at the end of the hall, he 
  saw light coming from under a door. From the 
  moment he saw it he wished he hadn’t. He had no 
  idea what was in that particular room. He had only 
  been in there once, and it was several years ago. In 
  the past, someone from one of the more classified 
  agencies would come them self and retrieve or file 
  the information stored in there. Today, all the 
  agencies associated with that room had been 
  replaced or renamed and now retained their own 
  records. No one had come asking about the files in 
  that room for what, eight years, ten? The bureaucrat 
  had only been shown the inside of the room once in 
  case he had to enter in an emergency. He kept a key 
  to the room, but he had certainly never used it. 
      As he stared at the key he had never used, 
  contemplating what to do, someone exited the 
  room. He was at least thirty years younger than the 
  bureaucrat. He wore a nice suit and was very well 
  groomed. He had a non-descriptive folder in his 
  hand, which had no markings on it. The old man 
  thought he was most likely one of the new 
  capitalists who had recently gotten rich. The young 
  man was obviously surprised to see him. As he 
  turned around after shutting and locking the door 
  quietly, he almost ran into the old bureaucrat. 
      “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” 
      “What were you doing in there?” 
      “Oh, just gathering some old files for my boss.” 
      “What files?” 
      “I’m really not sure, he just gave me this key and 
  told me to come to this room and retrieve some 
  things.” 
      “I’ll need to verify this. Do you even have 
  clearance to go in there?” 
     “Of course I do, my superior, a high level official 
  I’m sure you’ve never heard of, wouldn’t have 
  given me the key if I didn’t have the proper 
  clearance.” 
      “Listen, I need authorization for anything 
  removed from this facility, particularly from this 
  floor, particularly from that room.” He said 
  emphasizing the last portion. 
      “I see. Well, I’m obviously taking valuable time 
  away from your lunch. If we go through all the 
  trouble of verifying this, neither of us will get 
  anything else accomplished today. My boss only 
  needs to see these files for a few hours. He’s a very 
  impatient man who hates to be kept waiting. I 
  promise to have them back before the end of the 
  day. Perhaps you could go out for lunch and let me 
  pay for it, as an apology for your trouble.” 
      As the young man said this, he held out his hand 
  as if he wanted the old bureaucrat to shake it. He 
  could see the money inside the young man’s hand. 
  It was more than enough to buy his lunch. It looked 
  to be enough to buy a month of lunches. In the old 
  days, he would have walked away and turned the 
  young man in immediately. This could be a test, or 
  a trap. At one time, he knew these halls were 
  continuously monitored. Today, most of the 
  cameras were broken and no one bothered to fix 
  them. The guard upstairs was a friend of his and 
  was probably asleep anyways. 
      “All right, but I need them back here before the 
  end of the day, like you promised.” He shook the 
  young man’s hand and quickly pocketed the money. 
      “Certainly, my friend. After all, we are both just 
  hard working employees answering to our idiotic 
  masters aren’t we?” 
      “I do understand that” said the old man sourly. 
      “Fine, fine. I won’t wait for you. The sooner I get 
  out of here, the sooner I’ll get these back.” He 
  quickly turned around and hurried up the stairs. The 
  old man watched him go with deep suspicion. 
      “If he’s a low level employee, I’m Vladimir 
  Putin,” Even if he never brought the files back, no 
  one had been in that room for years. He doubted 
  anyone even had an accurate inventory anymore. 
      As the young man exited the complex, the guards 
  questioned him. His ID immediately ceased them 
  from asking any further questions and let him leave. 
  Visitors were normally searched. He was an 
  exception. His car was waiting for him outside. 
  After getting in the back, he dialed his cell phone as 
  the car pulled away. 
      “Yes?” said a deep but powerful voice. 
      “It exists.” 
      “And do you have the information we need?” 
      “Yes, and it’s more than we imagined.” 
      “Excellent, were there any problems?” 
      “Possibly, I ran into some old man while leaving 
  the storage room. I was able to bribe him, but he 
  could be a liability.” 
      “I know this man,” pondered the deep voice. 
      “Perhaps it’s time for his retirement.” 
      “I understand. I can have it taken care of, and no 
  one will suspect anything.” 
     “Good. Make sure it is painless, he has always 
  been a loyal servant, despite taking bribes from 
  corrupt officials.” 
      “I don’t find that the least bit amusing,” snapped 
  the young man. 
      “Sergei, if you can’t laugh at yourself, you have 
  no place in this organization.” 
  CH 1 
     Susan knew someone was sneaking up behind her. 
  She also had a pretty good idea who it was. That 
  was a gift she had always seemed to have, among 
  others. Whenever someone entered the room, she 
  could almost “sense” it. She wasn’t psychic. 
  Instead, it seemed that no matter how quiet 
  someone was, they were never able to sneak up on 
  her. 
      She could hear the person slowly moving toward 
  her. She continued intently working on her task, 
  waiting until the last possible moment. Then, when 
  she knew they were right behind her, she struck. 
  She wheeled around and wrapped her arms around 
  the attacker. 
      “Mommy!!” screamed the little girl. “I almost had 
  you that time.” 
      “Yes you did” she lied. “Now what are you up to 
  you silly goose?” 
      “I wanted a snack.” 
      “Michelle, you know dinner will be ready soon. 
      Can’t you see mommy’s making it?” she said 
  pointing to the vegetables she had been cutting on 
  the counter. 
      “I know mommy, but Janet went home and now 
  I’m bored.” 
      “Where’s your brother?” 
      “That’s a silly question, he’s on his computer.” 
      “Okay,” she sighed. “Go tell him I said he needs 
  some time away from that machine and that he 
  should play outside with you until dinner’s ready.” 
      “But Mommy, Tommy’s boring to play with.” 
      “Just do it young lady. He needs time in the sun 
  and I need you out of my kitchen.” 
      “Okay Mommy. Tommy!” she screamed as she 
  ran out of the kitchen. 
      Well that ought to keep them busy for at least a 
  few minutes. As she went back to her chopping, she 
  could practically count down to the inevitable 
  argument. 
      “Mom!” yelled her twelve-year-old son. “Do I 
  have to take the brat outside?” 
      “I am not a brat!” 
      “Don’t call your sister a brat. Now both of you go 
  outside and play quietly until dinner or there’ll be 
  no computer or TV for either of you!” 
      The inevitable groans ensued, but she knew the 
  argument was over. On only a few occasions had 
  her children tested her to see if she was serious. 
  They had quickly learned that she always was. 
      “Mommy, when’s daddy coming home?” asked 
  her youngest as she and her brother walked past her 
  towards the backyard. 
      “Sweetie, you know the answer, just look at the 
  calendar.” 
      “I like to count the days left with you Mommy” 
  she giggled. 
      “Oh brother,” moaned Tommy as he trudged out 
  the back door. 
      “Oh well,” Susan thought, “He is almost a 
  teenager.” Tommy was just starting to hit puberty. 
  He had grown several inches while Bill had been 
  gone. Bill probably wouldn’t recognize him. 
  Tommy had brown hair and blue eyes like his 
  mother but he would definitely have his father’s 
  thin build along with his extremely good memory 
  and ability to reason. 
      “All right sweetie, let’s look at the calendar. What 
  is today?” 
      “There!” she said pointing at the date. 
      “Yes, which makes today what?” 
      “Tuesday, the 26th of September?” 
      “Very good, and what day is Daddy coming 
  home?” 
      “Monday the 8th of October.” Her six-year-old 
  daughter had memorized the day as soon as her 
  father had left. 
      “That’s right honey. Now, how many days are in 
  between?” 
      “Fourteen?” 
      “Try counting on the calendar.” 
      “Oh, twelve,” she said after counting out the days. 
      “That’s right. Now go and play with your 
  brother.” 
      “Only twelve days to Daddy!” she screamed as 
  she ran out the door. Unlike Tommy, Michelle took 
  after her mother. She had brown hair and brown 
  eyes and similar facial features to Susan. There was 
  no doubt she was her daughter in spirit and 
  appearance. She also had Susan’s personality and 
  agility. She was very outgoing and had a lot of 
  friends. She had also recently shown an interest in 
  gymnastics and her coach said she had a lot of 
  potential. Although she was still a child, Susan 
  already knew what a handful she would be when 
  she became a teenager. 
      Yes, just twelve days until Bill gets home. This 
  was part of the life of being married to a 
  submariner. Six-month deployments were 
  something you had to deal with. Although she was 
  used to them, she certainly didn’t like them. At least 
  this would be his last one for a while as he was 
  nearly done with his XO or second in command 
  tour on the USS Hartford. 
      After returning, Bill would be on the phone with 
  his detailer. They had recently learned he had been 
  selected for promotion to Commander as well as 
  command of his own submarine. Although that 
  would be a few years off, it did set his career path 
  for quite a while. He first had to negotiate a shore 
  duty for the next two years. It would probably be 
  something around Washington DC. Neither of them 
  wanted to go there, but it was a necessary evil. The 
  traffic and the housing prices just did not appeal to 
  her. She’d definitely miss living in Groton, 
  Connecticut. 
      During the whole time they had been married, she 
  had never considered any other life. While she 
  hated for her husband to be away, this just seemed 
  so natural. Even when they met, she just knew he 
  was the man for her. They had both attended Purdue 
  University as engineering students and met at a 
  party. Bill however was also enrolled in the ROTC 
  program, which stood for Reserve Officers Training 
  Corps, and as a result, he would become a naval 
  officer after graduation. After they were married she 
  followed him around the world and never really got 
  to use her degree. She had grown up in an 
  orphanage so she had no family tying her to any one 
  location. It didn’t bother her though; she knew this 
  was what she was meant to do. It was funny how 
  that always seemed like a mantra. 
      As she continued preparing dinner, she looked out 
  the window and waved to her friend Lois Arlington. 
  Lois was also a navy wife. Susan lived in 
  government housing, so everyone was somehow 
  connected to the military. Lois’ husband, Al, was on 
  a different submarine and unlike Bill had spent most 
  of his time in the shipyard. Susan had always 
  encouraged her husband to stay operational to help 
  his career. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. 
  Submarines were supposed to be at sea right? 
      “Hey Susan, I hope Janet wasn’t too much 
  trouble,” said Lois and she walked by. 
      “Of course not. She kept Michelle busy and let me 
  get some housework done. I even got in a workout.” 
  Susan always worked hard to stay in shape. For a 
  thirty-eight year old who had two kids, she felt she 
  looked pretty good. She was five-feet nine with 
  dark brown hair that she normally kept stylish but 
  short. She could run five miles while barely 
  breaking a sweat and also lifted weights a few days 
  a week. She had blue eyes and was often told she 
  had a pretty face. She wasn’t gorgeous, just pretty. 
  Bill always told her she was the most beautiful 
  woman in the world, which was fine with her, but 
  she never liked to stand out. She preferred to look 
  nice but blend in with the crowd. She always felt 
  comfortable dressing as the stereotypical soccer 
  mom but she knew with a little work and makeup 
  she could turn herself into one of the hottest women 
  in the room, though she rarely did. 
      “I wish I had your figure,” said Lois. Lois was a 
  few years older than Susan. Her husband had started 
  as an enlisted man before becoming an officer so 
  they had more time in the Navy even though Bill 
  was a higher rank. Lois was by no means 
  overweight but she was never able to stay in as 
  good a shape as Susan. She was five-eight with red 
  hair and brown eyes and wore glasses. Sometimes 
  she tried to give herself a makeover but always 
  seemed to end up looking like what she was, an 
  ordinary woman trying to look like a supermodel. 
  On more than one occasion she commented on how 
  Susan seemed to look right for any occasion but she 
  herself always seemed to look the same. She wasn’t 
  really jealous. They had been friends too long for 
  that. Instead she was just a little envious of Susan’s 
  inherent ability to know what to wear and how to 
  act in any situation. However, since they spent most 
  of their time shuttling kids around and seeing other 
  Navy wives their situation rarely changed. 
      “Say, do you want to go and get a coffee later?” 
      “Sure. Do you think Alison can baby sit?” 
      “Sure she will. She won’t like it, but she’ll do it.” 
  Alison was Lois’ older daughter of sixteen. It was 
  Tuesday night so she most likely wouldn’t have 
  something keeping her busy. “Should I pick you up 
  around seven-thirty?” 
      “Sounds good, see you then.” 
      Iosef knew the time was right. He had spent 
  several days conducting reconnaissance and 
  reviewing procedures. There was a bottle of vodka 
  and a blank folder on his desk. He knew which one 
  he wanted to reach for, but he also knew which one 
  he should reach for. He thought for a few moments 
  about his father and his grandfather and how proud 
  they would be once he succeeded. This allowed him 
  to force down the urge and reach for the folder. 
  It had taken several days to track down the first 
  three subjects. He had spent several days in 
  Washington at the embassy conducting research. 
  Officially he was there as a data miner on American 
  demographics. This allowed him to use their 
  database of names and addresses to look for the 
  people he needed to find. It had taken three weeks 
  but he found the location of all the original 
  members. Luckily, two of the first three lived near 
  each other. He then decided to shift his base of 
  operations to Connecticut. He had decided to 
  contact Sasha first. Her file said she was designated 
  to be the lead primary. If something went wrong 
  one of the other two could take over, but the 
  preference was for her to take charge. After 
  spending several days observing her and monitoring 
  her communications he was convinced enemy 
  agents weren’t monitoring her. It appeared the cover 
  had held all these years. 
      He opened the folder and reviewed the procedure 
  again. He had read it at least a dozen times in the 
  last few days. He wished he had someone else to 
  back him and double check the procedure. That is 
  what he had always been taught, never trust 
  yourself, and rely on your comrades to ensure 
  success. Only through teamwork and a 
  relinquishment of individuality could true success 
  be achieved. However he was alone. The 
  importance and covertness of the mission required 
  this. 
      When he was convinced he could recite the 
  procedure forward and backward he knew he was 
  ready. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself 
  but he was nervous. He told himself the shaking in 
  his hands as he reached for the phone was 
  excitement not fear. He glanced at the vodka bottle 
  again, but quickly dismissed the idea. After he 
  dialed the number he attached the handset to a 
  device and picked up a stopwatch. It was finally 
  beginning. 
      Susan returned to preparing dinner. Just before 
  she was ready to call the children, the phone rang. 
  The caller id showed it as an unknown number. It 
  was probably a telemarketer. They didn’t get very 
  many because they were on the national do not call 
  list. Normally she would simply ignore such a call 
  and let the machine answer it. However, she was 
  getting tired of them so she intended to let these 
  people know their calls were not welcome and make 
  sure they didn’t bother her anymore. 
      “Hello.” 
      The person didn’t answer right away. It was 
  definitely a telemarketer. The computers normally 
  dialed several different homes at once and 
  connected to whoever answered first. That caused a 
  few seconds delay in them answering. She waited to 
  hear some unknown voice say they were looking for 
  Mr. or Mrs. Anderson along with the low hum of 
  numerous other people talking in the background. 
  Instead, she began hearing a strange series of clicks 
  and whistles. It was similar to a fax machine, but 
  somehow different. At first she was sure someone’s 
  machine had simply dialed the wrong number. But 
  then, she began to feel strange. It was as if a veil 
  was being pulled away from her eyes. The room 
  began to spin and it was all she could do to stand. 
  She wanted to pull the phone away from her ear, but 
  somehow her arm felt locked. She used her other 
  hand to brace herself on the counter. And then 
  suddenly, the line went dead. It was as if she had 
  been released from a vice. She fell to the floor and 
  the phone fell away. She had an image of a man 
  standing in front of her. She was strapped to a chair. 
  He was wearing a white coat and speaking in a 
  language she didn’t understand. Yet somehow she 
  knew what he was saying. 
      “Are you prepared for this?” 
      “I am prepared to do anything for my country.” 
      The voice was hers, but it was again speaking in a 
  language she didn’t understand. 
      “You are the best, you are the primary. Without 
  you, none of this will succeed.” The man reached 
  towards her and began to place some sort of mask 
  over her face. 
      Iosef looked at the stopwatch. He was unsure 
  what to do. The call had ended six seconds too early 
  and he didn’t know why. He checked the equipment 
  and verified it. It appeared to be working properly. 
  Somehow the call had been cut off on the other end. 
  He wasn’t sure how the subject would respond in 
  this case. He checked his notes. The procedure 
  didn’t say anything about what to do if a call ended 
  early. He checked some of the original research. It 
  took some time but he found the notes used when 
  the procedure was created. It was determined 
  twenty-three seconds was the optimal time period 
  for recovery. Different period of time could result in 
  “unusual outcomes.” 
      He threw the page with disgust. It would have 
  been nice if they had mentioned that in the original 
  procedure. Moreover, he couldn’t find anything 
  about what to do in the event of these “unusual 
  outcomes”. The original notes were still very 
  disorganized. He had spent some time trying to put 
  them together in a usable format but his resources 
  were limited. If he had someone to help he could’ve 
  used them to organize all this. His only choice now 
  was to approach the subject and determine what was 
  meant by “unusual outcomes.” He reached for the 
  vodka bottle and wished he had started there 
  anyways. 
      “Mommy!” 
      A voice was yelling for her. It was a voice Susan 
  knew but suddenly somehow didn’t seem right. 
  Reality began to collapse back into place. She was 
  being pulled back into her kitchen from a faraway 
  place. And yet, part of her didn’t want to go back. 
  Part wanted to stay in the room with the man in the 
  white coat as if that was where she really belonged. 
  “Mommy, I hurt myself,” yelled the voice. 
      Now the pull back to her kitchen was even 
  stronger. Someone needed her, someone she cared 
  for. The kitchen came back into focus. 
      “Hey Mom, the brat fell down and… whoa are 
  you okay?” 
      Susan was still lying on the floor with the phone 
  next to her. As her vision cleared, she saw Tommy 
  coming in the back door. 
      “Mom what happened?” He ran up and knelt next 
  to her. 
      “I’m not sure, I got this weird phone call, and then 
  I felt dizzy, and don’t call your sister a brat.” 
      “Do you need me to call the ambulance?” 
      “No sweetie, I’ll be fine. What happened to your 
  sister?” 
      “She just tripped and skinned her knee on a rock. 
  Are you sure you’re okay?” 
      “Yes I’m fine.” She started to get up. Her strength 
  was quickly returning but something was different. 
  She felt more acute, more aware of her 
  surroundings. It was like someone had flipped a 
  switch and turned on parts of her senses she wasn’t 
  previously aware of. She walked out the back door 
  and saw her daughter lying on the ground. Michelle 
  was crying and her knee was bloody. Susan 
  immediately focused on the blood. As she ran to her 
  daughter her brain was working at breakneck speed. 
   Assess the damage, determine the liability, and 
  determine if she can continue the mission.  
   Wait, 
  what mission? She shook her head to clear it. 
      “Honey, are you okay? What happened?” 
      “Tommy pushed me down on a rock.” 
      “Did not! We were just playing tag and you 
  tripped.” 
      “After you pushed me!” 
      “I was tagging you!” 
      "All right enough, let’s look at this.” The cut was 
  long, but not deep. There was some dirt around it, 
  but nothing serious. Some soap and water, a 
  bandage, and a kiss should fix both the physical and 
  psychological damage. 
      “All right, let’s head inside and get this cleaned 
  up.” 
      “Cool!” said Tommy as he ran back toward the 
  house. She knew where he was going. He spent way 
  too much time on that damn computer. She was 
  worried about his social skills. 
      “Where do you think you’re going? With your 
  sister hurt I need your help with dinner.” 
      “Ahh Mom,” he sighed. 
      “Get inside and finish making the salads. I’ve got 
  pasta on the stove and it’ll be done soon.” 
      As she walked back toward her house she heard 
  Lois yelling out her window. 
      “Hey Susan, did your phone stop working?” 
      “Actually yes, it went dead in the middle of a 
  call.” She didn’t mention what a strange call it was, 
  or the strange results.  
   Stay focused on the task, minimize the damage, don’t divulge unnecessary information.  
   She had no idea where these strange thoughts coming from. 
      “Maybe it was that construction up the street?” 
  said Lois. 
      “You could be right. Now we don’t even have 
  phones to complain with.” 
      “Oh I’ve got my cell phone and I’m using it. Say, 
  are you okay? You look a little frazzled.” 
      “I’m fine. Michelle just skinned her knee pretty 
  bad.”  
   Stay on target. The mission comes first.  
   She had to get these thoughts out of head and tried shaking it again. 
      “Okay, are we still on for seven-thirty?” 
      “See you then.” 
      She soon had her daughter in the bathroom and 
  was washing the cut.  
   Superficial wound, minor damage, no direct impact on mission.  
   This wasn’t making any sense. She needed to clear these thoughts from her head, so she decided the current mission was dinner. That seemed to quiet the voice. While she certainly didn’t understand what was going on, it somehow seemed natural, which did 
  concern her. “I need to figure this out,” she thought 
  aloud. 
      “Figure what out Mommy?” 
      “Nothing sweetie.” She put a bandage on the knee 
  and gave her daughter a kiss. 
      “Thanks Mommy” 
      “Good, now can you go be a big girl and set the 
  table?” 
      “Okay.” 
      As she went back to preparing dinner, she focused 
  on what had just happened. It was probably just 
  someone’s computer trying to contact Tommy. But 
  they had DSL. Hardly anyone used dial up 
  anymore. It may have just been a fax machine. She 
  had heard of people responding strangely to 
  different combinations of light and sounds but those 
  people usually had epilepsy or some kind of 
  neurological disorder. Maybe she needed to 
  schedule an appointment at the base hospital? 
      “Mom, the salads are ready, what kind of dressing 
  should I put out?” 
      “The usual dear.” 
      “I’ll deal with this later,” she said to herself. 
      “Right now I need to focus on the current mission, 
  dinner.” 
   
   
   Publication Date: July 7th 2009 https://www.bookrix.com/-submarine670