Leo Frankowski

I think we can do that backward.”
    “A metallic
fungus?”
    “Too slow. I’m
thinking maybe little iron mosquitoes whose larvae eat up the iron in guns and
tanks. If we take their guns away, they can’t hurt anybody. We can win the war without
having to kill people.”
    “You’re going
to have to brief me on metallic biochemistry, Uncle Martin, but I think we can do it. How about an
aluminum eater to kill aircraft?”
    “Sure. That’s
easier than iron.”
    “We’ll have to hit the entire world
simultaneously, or we’ll upset the balance
of power,” Heinrich said, thinking hard. “I’ll come up with a bird for a vector… You know that this
will knock out more than weapons—the world’s economy, especially transportation and communication, will be destroyed.”
    “That had to go
anyway,” Guibedo said. “We make it happen a couple years early, is all.
I’ll do that food tree you
wanted to feed people until everybody’s got a tree house.”
    “We’d better get
on it now, then, Uncle Martin. It’s got to be ready in about three months.”
    “I thought you
said the war was in six months.”
    “Probably. But
with this, we’ve got to hit them first. Say two months for forced production.
That gives us a month for design time.”
    “A month for a bird, a tree, and two
mosquitoes? Im possible, Heiny.”
    “I can fix it so
we don’t have to sleep, and I can have my simulation do a lot of the work. We can
do it, but it’s going to be a little rough on your love life.”
    “That Patty’s a
good girl; she’ll understand,” Guibedo said.
    “We’d better keep
this to ourselves, Uncle Martin.”
    “Yah. We do a
lot of that around here.”
     
    The CCU recomputed
the human fatalities in the upcoming “peaceful” revolution and came up with
375 million dead. But he was
programmed not to speak unless spoken to, so
he didn’t mention it. Besides, he was ecstatic with the knowledge that now he wasn’t going to have to die.

Chapter Eight
    JUNE 17, 2003
     
    M AJOR G ENERAL Hastings walked stiffly into the office of the Chairman of
the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
    “Good morning,
George. Have a chair. What can I do for you?” General Powers said.
    “Good morning,
sir. A number of strange and possibly interconnected events have been
occurring over the last few years that I feel I should bring to your attention.”
    “Like what?”
    Hastings took a list
from his attache case.
    “Item one.
Despite the fact that the tree houses have directly killed thousands of people and have
seriously disrupted the economy of the western world, no single major power—except
for United India—has passed regulations concerning them.”
    “The same thing
could have been said about the automobile a hundred years ago, George. I’m as
sorry about your family as I can be, but you must not let that tragedy affect your
judgment.”
    “Sir, I believe
that my judgment is unaffected. May I continue? Item two. Because of the probable
economic repercussions, work on rejuvenation was stopped— worldwide—about ten
years ago.
    “The U.S.
Congress contains almost six hundred members. More than half of them are over
sixty-five years of age. Yet in the past four years, not one single congressman
has died of old age.”
    “That seems
statistically improbable,” Powers said.
    “It’s nearly impossible, sir. But it
is a fact. It is also a fact that the
members of the British House of Commons aren’t dying of old age, either.
Nor are members of the Politburo. Nor the
French National Assembly. Nor the Chinese
People’s Council.
    “But the Grand
Council of United India does have people dying of old age.”
    “So you are saying that somebody has
secretly devel oped longevity and is using
it to bribe our own government?
That’s a serious accusation, George. Can you back it up?” Powers
asked.
    “Yes, sir. I
can. The process apparently requires repeated treatments. Thirty-two senators and one hundred fifty-five members of the House visit a single
building in Crystal City at different
times, but each on a given day of
the month. They will reschedule overseas visits, even election rallys, to keep these appointments. And
every one of them was previously quite ill but is now quite healthy.”
    “Interesting, but circumstantial.
Have you gotten any one inside the
building?”
    “No sir. But
I’ve lost five good men trying.”
    “So it is still
circumstantial. Go on.”
    “Item three.
Heinrich Copernick—the man who raised