Prologue

 Throughout history great men have been called upon, whether by fate or circumstance, to guard the light of humanity against the darkness of oppression and destruction wrought by the tyranny of evil men.  This paradox is manifest in the conscious nature of all things contrived within the realm of human perception.  As mankind exists so does the balance, the scales tipped by the will of those who govern.  While the world was slipping further into darkness, thirteen elder Bhikkhu-the high lamas of the Gelupga Monastery-gathered in a circle on the bank of the sacred waters of the Lhamo la-tso, a tradition they had been entrusted with for more than three thousand years. The eldest lama positioned himself in the center of the circle and together they chanted:
    "Palden Lhamo, guardian spirit of the lake.  We invoke you to fulfill your promise to our people and aid us in our search for the new Dalai Lama.  We call on you to reveal his reincarnation so the balance of life and death may be restored," their voices echoed, reverberating against the rocky canyon above the sacred lake.  The gray mountains  rose high in the cloud filled sky behind them.  Situated deep in the Himylayas, this impenetrable fortress, rivaling the fabled walls of Troy, had guarded their way of life since long before the war that broke the world.  The thin crisp Himylayan air prayed mercilessly on any unfortunate flesh left exposed by the monks.  The ancient water of the Lhamo La-tso shimmered like a polished jewel in the moonlight.  Suddenly a gust of wind blew fiercely across the surface of the lake and it began to ripple faster; sending small waves crashing against the grassy bank.  The aqueous form of a woman rose and floated above the glossy pool.  The high lamas had stopped chanting and looked on in awe of her magisterial arrival.    
     "Gyelmo Maksorma," the eldest lama whispered in disbelief.
    "The Victorious One who turns back enemies," another whispered reverantly.  The spirit then spoke in an ominous and commanding tone that howled like the wind.  
    " I am known to you as Gyelmo Maksorma.  You are my devoted Bhikkhu.  Every man among you has honor, and therefore, I honor my promise to you.  You must find the "Chosen One" for the answers you seek.  You must look to the West for a young man with a pure heart.  Only he can restore the balance," the spirit commanded.  
    "But Victorious One, how will we know it is him?"asked the eldest High Lama as he stepped forward.
 "He will reveal himself to you when he shows the light of mercy before the world,"  the spirit replied.  "You must hurry, for he is in grave danger.  The balance must be restored and the Dalai Lama must be reincarnated or all of mankind will be destroyed." The spirits body turned to mist and sank back into lake as the high lamas looked on in silence.  
    The eldest of the Bhikku, Lama Denjai,  moved outside the circle quietly signaling the others to follow him back to the monastery. As the others fell in line behind him he reflected on the words of Palden Lhamo, 'You must look to the West for a young man with a pure heart.... He will show the light of mercy before the world.  Only he can restore the balance ...He was in grave danger....darkness will overtake the light and mankind will destroy itself  if the Dalai Lama was not reincarnated.'
     The rest of the journey back to the monastery was made in soulful silence.  Lama Denjai's eyes feasted on the deliciously soft glow of the stars on the snow covered hilltops as they ascended the final path to their destination.  The serenity of the moment faded quickly however, and Lama Denjai looked away when they passed the empty ground where the Dalai Lama's living quarters once stood.  All that remained was a patch of burnt grass.  It had been three years since the last Dalai Lama, "Gendan Gyatso," had tragically died in an explosion leaving his body burned beyond recognition with only his chromo-tag to confirm his identity.   He was Lama Denjai's oldest and closest friend.  The sad news of his demise had left the citizens of the Tibetan Province demoralized and leaderless, and millions of people around the world in mourning for a man who had dedicated his entire life promoting peace and humanity.  There were those who believed the Euro-Russian President, Vladimir Khokarov, had the Dalai Lama assassinated.  He had already tried to invade The Republic of the Asian States twice in his 16 year reign.  What the High Lamas did know for certain was that Gendan Gyatso's soul was in turmoil and until his killer was identified and the balance of life and death restored, there could be no Dalai Lama.  And a new war would rip the world apart again.  
    

    VLADAMIR KHOKAROV, President of Euro-Russia, sat at the head of the oval mahogany table with his arms crossed in his high back leather chair.  He waited eagerly for the presentation to begin. This top secret meeting had been hastily assembled in the war room of his military compound just moments ago by High-General Sergei Polinski with every senior level military leader in attendance.  Khokarov towered a full head above most of the other officers present.  His salt and pepper colored hair was cut short consistent with his military background.  But despite his aged appearance, no one doubted his physical prowess.  They were joined by Finish Biotech Scientist Sari Karjilinen.
Sari stood at the far end of the "war room".  At less than 5 feet tall she was short even for a woman. Her blond hair was pulled back and worn in a bun at the top of her head.  She wore a dark gray suit jacket and matching knee length skirt.  A pair of navy blue horn rimmed glasses framed her pale blue eyes.  In Khokarov's opinion she resembled a child playing dress up.  
    Sari's eyes darted around the room ensuring nothing had been overlooked.  Don't panic now-Sari-breathe she told herself determined not to let a mindless oversight tarnish her entire life's work.  Especially in front of such an impressive and formidable group of men.  She could feel her hands growing clammy and the glands in her throat swelling as she nervously fidgeted with her glasses.  Her eyes continued scanning the table until they fell upon Sergei Polinski.  Sari felt a momentary reprieve from her tension in his warm smile and cool blue eyes.  Had there ever been such a man as Sergei. So handsome and confident in his uniform.  Forcing her thoughts back to the presentation, her gaze fell upon the man sitting to Sergei's left.  President Khokarov gave her the nod to begin.
"Gentlemen,  my apologies for interrupting your morning schedules, but a breakthrough has been made in Chromo-Tag technology, surpassing anything the world has ever seen.  The information contained in your dossiers briefly outlines the nature of my work in the field of Chromo-Tag Manipulation and more significantly to you, its military applications."  Sari waited momentarily for the whispers and mutterings to subside as her confidence grew.  I have developed a program utilizing a series of complex allgorythms that when transmitted to a person's chromo-tag will severely affect the individual's central nervous system.  This form of behavior modification allows our program to take control of that individual's actions by first monitoring the behavioral synapsis unique to that individual, and based on the patterns recorded, generates its own synapses, allowing a remote user to control that individual's actions for a period of three minutes.  Or the amount of time it takes the human brain to recognize its being manipulated and circumvent the program.  
"Can you say that in laymans terms," the man sitting closest to her asked?The wings on his uniform and hat indicated he was the High General of the Air Forces.  You mean can I dumb it down for you General, she wanted to say.
"Yes General, just imagine that for three minutes your soldiers or yourselves will have a marionette that doesn't need strings,"  Sari replied. The men around the room began talking amongst themselves and looking at one another with smiles, and raised eyebrows.  Content with her performance so far, Sari folded her arms over her breasts and smiled.  Her anxiety simply vanished and every eyeball in the room was fixated on her. With the exception of the officer with the lazy eye. Sari thought that one might be looking at the rubber plant in the corner.  
"How does it work?" asked a man wearing a civilian suit and tie.  Sari assumed he was the Director of the Euro-Russian Intelligence Agency or ERIA.  
"Thats a good question,"  Sari met his eyes with hers and using her hands as an aid she responded, " If you could turn your attention to the screen behind me,  this diagram maps the process involved in establishing connection to a specific Chromo-Tag.  Every citizen of our planet is implanted with a Chromo-Tag when they are born which is then registered into National databases by their home country.  Every registration contains an encrypted control number that becomes activated for communications when they are six years old.  Until now, Chromo-tags could only access the learning, and memory parts of the brain.  But I have discovered how to manipulate the parts of the brain that control a persons behavior and decision making.  All we need is the encryption code for the corresponding tag we want to manipulate."
"So does it allow us to completely control the individual?"  The man in the suit followed.  
    "The answer to that question- as of now-is no.  So far it only temporarily interrupts their brain's activity, rendering them defensless and unable to make quick decisions,"  Sari explained.  "The program is essentially a paralytic virus transmitted to their Chromo-Tag via satellite." Excitement buzzed around the table and the officers reacted more openly and much louder than before.  Sari observed the various heads nodding their approval.
    President Khokarov cleared his throat, quickly ending any dialogue between the other military leaders.  "So first we need to obtain a list of military personnel from our enemies, and then gain access to their Chromo-Tag control  codes."
    "Exactly, Mr. President.  If you do that you will render your adversaries defenesless for three minutes while your forces impose their will.  Imagine the possibilities gentlemen."  As Sari delivered the closing words of her presentation she leaned forward and emphatically placed both hands on the table  
    Gasps, and applause erupted from these battle hardened heroes and they rose together in reverence of the brilliant mind of this four-foot-eleven-inch woman from Finland, who had instantly became larger than life. The only two men still sitting were President Khokarov and High General Polinski. Both men were smiling but Sari knew it was for very different reasons.  Polinski beamed with pride for having introduced the Euro-Russian President to the Finish beauty with the idea of Chromo-Tag manipulation three years ago.  When Khokarov had agreed to finance the endeavor he had high hopes, but this far exceeded even his wildest dreams.  If her technology was successful he could not only take control of The Republic of the Asian States, in time the entire world could be his.  Even the United States of America.  
    Khokarov's American counterpart, President Caidan Johnson, was up for re-election in the coming days. Although they had been allies for the twelve years Johnson had been in office Khokarov's true opinion of the man was less than flattering.  Vladimir was contemptuous of any leader who lacked vision and any ambition beyond making money.  Sure, Johnson had shared the wealth from a few of the schemes he and Massoud had cooked up over the years, he didnt really possess the killer instinct and do whatever attitude that had raised Khokarov to the level of world supremacy his country had reached.  Khokarov on the other hand was merciless; using his technological and military prowess to subjugate the weak.  
    It was no secret Khokarov wanted to seize control of the defenseless Asian provinces that comprised the Euro-Russian borderlands.  He ruled his own country through fear and domination.  During his 16 year reign as Euro-Russian President, he had won re-election four times killing each opponent with his bare hands.  Vladimir Khokarov had declared war on the Republic of the Asian States twice, forcing the Asian government to appeal to United Nations to intercede on their behalf.  The two previous attempts had failed because he wasn't strong enough to take on the United Nations and invade Asia.  At least not until now.    
    SAMIR MASSOUD current leader of the United Islamic States considered himself a very clever man who kept his cool under almost any situation.  Lately however, he was getting nervous.  He had been following the Democratic election of the United States for months, when it appeared the American Jeremiah Manning or that bleeding heart, Jade Stone, was going to win the nomination.  Manning had been outspoken in condemning the American's reliance on foreign oil; Samir's oil.   During the most recent televised debate Manning said he would quash the monopoly the Islmaic States had on the American oil supply and open competitive bidding from other countries. This infuriated Samir.
He worried how it would affect the oil trade scam he and Johnson had started 12 years ago.  The Americans bought more oil from his country than anyone else and over the years Johnson and Samir became the wealthiest men alive.  Those foolish American people had no idea they were paying three times what he was giving it to Johnson for. Samir knew if they ever found out they would have Johnson's head on a spit.  
     That wasn't the only secret Johnson was keeping from the American people.  Six years ago a Euro-Russian scientist, a polish woman, developed a way to replace oil altogether with a variation of cold-water-fusion.  She was supposed to speak at an energy conference held at the international convention center in Australia.  Samir, Johnson, and two others including the Euro-Russian President VladIimir Khokarov, who had first learned of her discovery, had arranged for her and her team to take a luxury Rolls Royce autoplane to Sydney.  During the flight they had the engineer who programmed the route sabotage the autoplane, and it crashed into the Pacific Ocean.  She and her colleagues were dead within a few days of achieving perhaps the greatest discovery since fire or penecillin; all of her research confiscated and sealed into a vault.
"Aahil get me President Johnson on the telephone." He told his  secretary.
Aahil came back a moment later and announced, " I have President Johnson on the secured line sir" Samir touched  the button that converted his entire desk to a transparent screen and instructed Aahil to leave the room.  
"Caidan, my American brother, how are you? " How are the preparations for your re-election coming along.?"
"Very well Samir, I'm as strong as a bull and I feel better than I did four years ago when I ended the life of the older Manning.  His younger brother will meet with the same fate."
"Do not make the mistake of underestimating your enemy, my brother.  I hear that the younger Manning, is bigger and stronger than his predecessor.  And he no doubt has the taste of revenge on his pallet,"  Samir cautioned. "Now listen to me very carefully, because I have an idea that is going to keep you alive and in office for four more years," he continued.
"You have my attention Samir" replied Johnson as he leaned closer to his video phone.  
 "We're going to kill Manning before your fight." Samir directed.    
Let's talk tomorrow" Samir remarked then pushed the  button disconnecting the call.  

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

Awesome...I Love the research you put into it...the opening thought of dialogue in the first paragraph drew me in...your imagination that you built in worlds, piqued my curiosity...it seems like the rapture books I once read many years ago...but I like it, Shaun.