All Gone

The Security Meeting was tense with unspoken fears. Not seen in the unflinching, inscrutable  expressions…. but elsewhere. Hidden from view under the table, a drumbeat of feet as frog-like tongue extending then retracting, the forgiving wool carpet closed over the anxiety in a darting visco-elasticity; clenched hands scrunched the thighs of workaday suits; heels strummed in silence along one calf, one shin then changed legs.

The President spoke. “Any suggestions how the people can be brought on board? Compliance with whatever we decide is crucial. The survival of humanity, not to mention our intergalactic standing, is at a crossroads. Could go one way or the other” 

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H.E.A.L. Your Happy Ever After

Roscoe Manning’s rounded Devon drawl faltered. He gasped as burning sand trickled down his windpipe. Standard issue military full -face visor was powerless against the inexorable seepage of desert dust.

Not a good idea this open- air presentation, he thought.

Hawking an ochre flume of spittle, he re-placed his face- mask and resumed.

“Imagine….. I didn’t know what a Hesco was before this deployment and now I’m training you.”

Experience had taught Roscoe that modelling his own learning curve built trust with the trainees. So necessary in the field where operational success and minimum casualties depended on orders being instantly obeyed. 

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