Young Writers Society

     The year 2023 had almost gone by uneventfully. In fact, many were astounded at just how peaceful it had been until then. The Middle East had somehow simmered down. North Korea seemed to have mellowed. It truly felt as if a new era of international stability and brotherhood were about to be ushered in. Unfortunately, it turned out to have been the calm before the storm.

     The announcement that a missile had been hastily launched and the destruction of a non-threatening aircraft and that ten lives had been lost soon shook the world from its peaceful lethargy. The shocking news of the disaster was all over the TV networks as soon as it happened. An investigation had immediately been launched within twenty-four hours and those responsible had been assembled in order to be questioned. Meanwhile, a somber, almost unbearable grief had descended on societies all over the world. The gravity of the situation could be seen in the way those accused of being responsible were treated.

     No sooner had he entered the interrogation room where the responsible missile-combat-crew of four were was seated, than the interrogator’s seething anger burst forth.

     “Ok who did it? Who was the imbecile responsible for launching that ICBM?"

There was no immediate response from the crew members, only downcast faces as if a horrendous mistake had been committed.

     “Don’t think that silence will help you get away with it because I will get to the bottom of this, one way or the other, even if I have to use Guantanamo methods! So it’s best that you come clean,” the Tactical Action Officer said as he paced the room in front of the missile-launch combat crew responsible.

     “Sir, there was no way of knowing what was exactly involved,” Macmillan, the senior officer present responded. “The radar blip indicated an incoming, rapidly-descending object at approx twenty-thousand feet approaching from the northwest. It didn’t respond to our inquiries on any hailing frequency, failed to identify itself and was heading right for the Eastern Seaboard at approx Mach two. We only had a very narrow window in which to to react sir.”

     “So I take it that you are assuming full responsibility for this fiasco MacMillan?”

      Macmillan’s uncanny slight resemblance to Alfred E. Newman, the iconic character displayed on all Mad Magazine covers, didn’t exactly help his case was evident by the few muffled snickers from the security guards as he rose to answer the question.

     “Yes I am sir! Full responsibility sir,” the young man responded nervously with a look of profound grief on his face. The tension of the situation had taken its toll and he had dark shadows under his eyes and a harassed look of utter exhaustion. The other three looked more or less the same but he seemed the most affected.

     “Very well then, since you are, how do you propose we explain this garbage to the American public? Eh?”

     “Well sir, the American public should understand that it is our duty to place their safety above all other considerations.”

     “Under different circumstances, yes, of course, I agree. The American public is fairly reasonable. Especially with our young men in the armed services. They would understand and maybe even recommend that you receive a medal. Maybe even a ticker-tape parade. Even I would be patting you on the back right now for a job well done. But under these circumstances, I seriously doubt that you will gain much sympathy son. In fact, you are lucky they don’t string you up and hang you.”

“I was only doing my patriotic duty sir!” Macmillan replied on the verge of tears.

     “Dam it son! Why didn’t you recommend an intercept to make visual contact instead? That would have avoided all this embarrassing mess.”

     “Well sir, that would have been gambling with the lives of the American citizens. The suspicious and potentially dangerous target could have taken evasive action. You know, used low altitude to confuse our radar tracking. It also had supersonic capabilities sir and its speed limit was unknown. It also moved in a strange way sir. A dangerous way.”

     “Be specific! The more specific you are the less blame we will get. You were informed of that in your briefing. So don’t go brain-dead on me now.”

     “Yes sir. Sorry sir. It seemed to lose altitude rapidly over populated areas, disappear from all radar detection and then reappear and resume its general trajectory. It had done this approx five thousand times in its course from the northwest Alaska through Canada and had continued the same suspicious, evasive maneuvers over American soil sir."

     “Suspicious maneuvers? Is that what you just said? Suspicious maneuvers?”

“Yes sir, suspicious maneuvers sir!”

     “The question is why you still considered them suspicious maneuvers when reports from Canada had already identified the object which you so much suspected as an enemy aircraft as non-threatening. You see, I have been informed that you were indeed thoroughly apprised of these visual-confirmation reports-were you not?”

     “Well sir, yes I was apprised sir. But those reports didn’t make any logical sense! Read the reports for yourself. They seemed like gibberish. Utter nonsense sir. Maybe even part of some ploy to get us to lower our guard sir.” Macmillan replied in a tone resembling a child pleading to be forgiven by a parent.“Unfortunately for you, the wreckage doesn’t show that the reports were nonsense.” the tactical Action Officer said while somberly looking at the written reports on his desk and then displaying a video taken of the wreckage found scattered all over a pasture in Montana. The place had been immediately cordoned off with electrified fences, national guard troops had been posted and surveillance helicopters patrolled the area to keep curious crowds at bay.

     “Unfortunately true sir, and for that I sincerely apologize--”

     “No Son, it isn’t to me you need to offer an apology for this. It is the the whole world that you owe this apology, to all those kids who believed that Santa Clause existed and awaited his visits each year. Those are the ones that you must apologize to for having shot Santa Clause down.