No News is Good News

The year was 2098 AD and Dr. Thomas Zimmerman was the first man in space.

Well, everyone knew that the first man in space was Yuri Gagarin. Back in the twentieth century Gagarin was the first man ever to be launched in space and brought back -- the first man into and out of space. Dr. Zimmerman was not out as yet. Nor was he likely to be in the foreseeable future.

He was the first permanent resident in space. At 54 years of age, Zimmerman was five feet ten and weighed a hundred and seventy pounds. Or would have weighed a hundred and seventy pounds on earth! He had clear blue eyes and wore no specs.

No man is an island unto himself, said a famous author of yore. The said author obviously hadn’t known about Dr. Thomas Zimmerman. At 54, he was also the world’s loneliest man.

He was a man with no future: no foreseeable interesting future. Drifting in space at 750,000 kilometers per hour towards a destination 14.3 billion light years away was the most boring journey undertaken by any man ever.

However uninteresting his future may seem, his past was anything but uninteresting.

Dr. Thomas Zimmerman was voted The Most Famous Man Alive by all the surveys taken by all the pollsters consistently for the last seven years.

He was voted Man of the Century by Time, BBC and every other major network news. He was a double Nobel peace prizewinner and was unarguably the one man responsible for changing the course of the political and social environment of the world. He was also the most wanted man on the political, social and party circuits of five continents. Zimmerman had no living relatives and he belonged to no country. No country’s laws were binding on him.

He was a stateless man because no country could guarantee his safety on its territory. He was the first permanent resident of space because his position on earth was untenable. Because Zimmerman was also No. 1 on the hit list of all the terrorist organizations and some minor terrorist states, those that still remained.

He was the one person responsible for completely, almost completely, destroying terrorism from the face of the earth.

Terrorism, which grew in the twenty first century to be the single largest menace to the democracies of the world was at its zenith in 2092 with assassinations of world leaders taking place with frightening regularity. No defense was enough against the bullet of an assassin or a bomb attack. For any person on earth. Until that fateful day in 2092, when Dr. Zimmerman revealed the key to the destruction of terrorism.

At 47 years of age in 2092 AD, Dr. Thomas Zimmerman was the sole proprietor of the single largest news company in the world. He was the owner of the GoodNews Channel till January 2094 when he had sold it for an astounding 3.7 trillion dollars.

But now, at 54 and far out in space, surprisingly for such a successful man, Zimmerman was also broke. Not that he could spend money on anything in his current predicament: He was millions of miles from earth. But in the years following 2092, as he became the No.1 target in the world, the only safe place for him was out in space. So he spent all the money he had acquired in his life and all the money from various awards and endowments he had to construct a spaceship to house him for the rest of his life. It was the fastest spaceship built by man till date and was stockpiled with enough life support stuff to last for a hundred years, if Zimmerman should live that long.

***

Unlike Zimmerman, who had a very uninteresting future, Basat Galilee had a very interesting future indeed, if not a particularly appealing one. It was a matter of when, not if, he would be captured or killed. The reason was: defections for money. His organization had shrunk from an impressive 541 cells seven years ago to 15 today, his operatives from 258,799 to 1436. It was a disaster. This was one company going nowhere but down.

Basat Galilee was also the most wanted man in the world. Although his power had diminished considerably in the past seven years, during that time he was responsible for the murders of 29,495 people all over the world. including a President of the USA, two Russian Premiers, an Indian Prime Minister, seven Chinese diplomats, and three European heads of state.

This much success working for any corporation would have ensured a bright future for any person. After all Basat Galilee was the most successful terrorist in the history of mankind, making the legendary Carlos of the twentieth Century look like a Boy Scout in comparison.

But then Carlos never had to contend with anyone like Dr. Thomas Zimmerman.

So Galilee was unhappy on this tenth day of March in the year 2098 AD even as he waited for his colleagues and peers to gather for the last throw of the dice.

The eight terrorist leaders gathered in a small apartment near the training facilities of Galilee’s secret hideout in the Russian Ural Mountains. Outside, a few young recruits were being trained at their deadly craft. Galilee was sad to note that there were only a dozen or so new recruits. In its heyday, this camp had boasted of hundreds of new recruits pouring in every week. There had been money pouring into the coffers of his organizations from all over the world to finance such training facilities on remote outposts of civilization. to train personnel, to buy the law enforcers of five continents, and money to execute contracts.

There was money for assassinations.

But now, the fountain of blood money was drying up, not because man didn’t want to murder his fellowman any more, but because the motive for paying for killing had considerably dwindled in the last seven years thanks to that son of a bitch, Zimmerman.

Galilee surveyed the tired, hopeless faces in front of him. He adjusted his spectacles, which he affected to look more dignified, over deep set dark brown eyes and ran a hand through his sparse curly hair. Then he began.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Galilee winced inwardly. To call those present in such civil manner was an affront to the English language. Whoever heard of a gentle terrorist? Any oxymoron if ever there was one. Still these were his brothers and sisters in arms and he felt a deep kinship towards them. They were all self-styled fighters for a lost cause. It was unfortunate, however, that the lost cause in this case was terrorism itself.

"The project to which we committed our funds and energies a year ago is nearing completion. A little more than five kilometers from here, we have built a launch site. In five day’s time, at 0647 hours GMT, we shall be launching a rocket into space. The rocket shall be armed with a sophisticated search and destroy system for guidance and a payload of 530 Kg. The payload consists of one nuclear device with a yield of 42 megatons designed to explode on impact. The target is Zimmerman’s spacecraft far out in space. The rocket and its bomb shall catch up with Zimmerman in eighteen month’s time. We have built a state of the art rocket considerably faster than Zimmerman’s, which was the fastest a few years ago. Today, ours is the fastest rocket in the world. Let us take pride in that."

Galilee noticed the nods of those present. They were not exactly enthusiastic about all this technical stuff. They just wanted to rid themselves of Zimmerman and go about their daily business of killing. Galilee continued.

"Exactly at 0015 GMT January 1 2100 AD, we shall destroy Zimmerman’s spaceship along with him. Victory will be ours. We shall begin the next century on a high note and our organizations shall flourish again after Zimmerman’s demise. It shall be a spectacular kill and every news channel in the world will give the event uninterrupted coverage unprecedented in the history of broadcasting. Along with us!"

"Till then we shall be dormant, pending funds to finance our causes. We are the last of our kind on this planet and we owe it to our causes to take this gamble. For without killing Zimmerman, and the subsequent media exposure, we are certainly doomed. As all of you know by now."

The eight men and women nodded as one. Basat Galilee invited them to stay for the five days remaining to witness the launch. As an afterthought he also persuaded them to stay a day longer to bask in their success on the day after.

Exactly at 0647 hours on March 10 2098 AD, the rocket with its deadly payload was launched without a hitch. It was all too smooth to be spectacular. In the command and control room Basat Galilee sighed a sigh of relief.

"Godspeed," said the man doing the devil’s work on earth.

* * *

1045 hours GMT at the New York HQ of United Nations and the situations room was already buzzing with excitement and a quiet efficiency. Commander Sukhwinder Singh Vora was in charge and information and queries were flying thick and fast. A council of war was called at 1100 hours.

Commander Vora was six feet six inches and weighed two hundred and thirty pounds. He looked his 48 years but could move very fast when needed, as many a villain had found out too late. A grizzly bear just out of hibernation was a teddy bear compared to Vora in one of his moods.

As commander Vora faced his team, he was definitely in one of his moods! They all looked to one another to break the news to him. Finally, the ballistic expert, Jack Afleck, spoke.

"Sorry Mr. V. There’s nothing we can do. The rocket is out of range of our Polar and geo stationary missile stations. It’s faster than anything we’ve got. I checked with the Russians and the Chinese."

"Try asking the Indians and the French," shot back Vora.

"I did that too chief," said young Yvette Vidon, the liaison coordinator.

Vora slammed down a huge fist on the table.

"Are you trying to tell me that we, with the combined resources of a hundred and fifty four nations, cannot stop this bloody thing dead in its tracks?"

Everyone shifted uncomfortably in his or her chairs. Nobody spoke. Vora had his answer.

"Get me an appointment with the Secretary General. Now, dammit!" he thundered.

***

One hour later, Vora was standing in front of the Secretary General of the United Nations. The Secretary General would have been the most powerful man in the world, if she were a man. Uma Obuchi was in fact a short, neatly dressed woman of sixty. Vora noted that she had called in the big guns. The permanent members of the Security Council were all present along with her own personal panel of advisors.

"Sit down Commander Vora," said the Secretary General.

He sat down uncomfortably. He wasn’t enjoying this one bit.

"Well?" the secretary general arched her eyebrows.

He told them the truth. Admitting defeat and helplessness rankled, but he told them the truth.

"Nothing we can do about it madam," Vora concluded.

"So we can’t do any thing about the rocket," sighed the Secretary General. Then her voice steeled "However, the Secretary of Defense tells me that I can do something about those responsible, right Noah? "

"Yes," said the secretary of defense. "We know the exact location of the place from which it was launched. "Silly of them, really. You cannot hide a space launch on earth from anybody."

Obuchi pondered for a few seconds, then appeared to reach a decision.

" Take it out! Use a nuclear weapon, say four megatons, right? " The secretary of defense nodded. She turned to the Liaison Secretary and the Russian member of the council.

"Talk to the Russian Premier. Tell him the facts. Obtain their permission to destroy 10 sq. kms. Of their Ural Mountains. Tell them to evacuate the few citizens there within the hour."

The Russian delegate nodded and left. She turned to the secretary of defense.

" Give me a launch time. "

The Secretary of Defense got on the phone and after consulting for a few seconds spoke,

"1238 GMT. We shall need your authorization codes at 1230 GMT."

"You’ll have it." said the Secretary General and adjourned the meeting.

As they all rose to leave, she turned to the Public Relations Secretary.

"And Ben?" The Public Relations Secreatary turned nodding. "Put a lid on this one too," she said.

"Yes Ma’am," said the PR Sec, "Dr. Zimmerman would approve."

***

Alone in her office, the Uma Obuchi sat thinking about the man whose days were numbered. Dr. Zimmerman was a close personal friend and she had just got off the link informing him about the inevitable threat that he faced. He had taken it quite stoically, almost with a sense of relief. His parting words were "Don’t worry Uma.. Remember, No News is Good News."

The Sec Gen. Was present that day seven years ago when Zimmerman had given his first and final press conference for the news corporations of the world. That was the first and last time anybody heard him speak in public. That once was, however, enough to wipe terrorism from the face of the earth. She, along with every man woman and child on the planet could recite his speech almost verbatim.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press. In the twentieth century, two developments dominated the political social and cultural issues of mankind. One was the growth of the News companies and the availability of almost boundless information on the Internet. News, and analysis of the same, became easily available to the common man and the large news companies commanded unprecedented control over public opinion through their viewerships.

"The second development, and this on a more sinister side is the growth of terrorism as an arm of politics. We had a few anarchists in the beginning of the twentieth century, but large scale, organized, terrorism - murder for the sake of murder, murder for the sake of sensationalism –was developed into an art form only in the later half of the twentieth century and has been with us ever since.

"My theory is that these two events -- the growth of the news networks or freedom of information – sensationalism – and the growth of terrorism are connected.

"Has it occurred to you that for any person who wants national or international coverage for his views, the cheapest and fastest way to get that coverage is to perpetrate some act of violence?

"Such a person spends a paltry hundred thousand dollars or so on equipment and an even smaller amount to hire young, misguided, unemployed youth from some destitute country and achieves what a decent advertiser spends billions of dollars to achieve to get the same viewership, to get the same column centimeters in print.

"Because bad news is news. Because murder is news. Big murder is big news. Large-scale slaughter of innocents keeps viewers glued for a week, maybe a month. The one who kills most shouts the loudest. This goes against the very principle of democracy and tolerance for difference of opinion.

"I therefore request all the news companies present here not to report terrorism related news on their networks. This may seem as an infringement on the right of information, but the point I want to make is that the news companies are the unwitting accomplices in propagating the cause of terrorism. They give these miscreants undeserved exposure. The channels get their TRP ratings; the terrorists get exposure for their views. Any viewpoint, which makes murder as a means towards any end, must be harmful to the society in which it exists.

"Think about it -- if they kill and don’t get news coverage, their motivation – the motivation for those funding terrorism – will be gone. If the organizations perpetrating terrorism do not get credit for their killing, they are non-persons in the eyes of the public. Hence those responsible for funding these miscreants shall slowly stop funding them. They’ll be getting no bang for their buck! If you can’t be famous cheaply, why spend money?

"Eliminate the cause, money for blood; do not give coverage and free publicity to killers. Cut the root, the tree shall inevitably wither in time. Starting tomorrow, all news channels owned by me shall stop airing terrorism – related news. I urge you all to follow suit.

"With murder and terrorism, no news is good news!

"And that is good news for the rest of mankind."

In 2092, immediately after his one and only news conference, he had started the GoodNews Channel. It was a sensation in the annals of business. People, who were tired of the daily dose of murder and bad news switched on to the GoodNews Channel which provided exactly what its name said: Good News. Happy news. News with hope.

By the end of the year every terrorist in the world was out for his blood. So he had sold out to a consortium for a staggering 3.7 trillion US dollars. He had built his own spacecraft and left earth early in 2094 AD.

The Secretary General remembered the conferences of the news bosses which followed. All were rich men and women. All knew what it was to be held to ransom by unreasonable men. They agreed with Zimmerman. Then the governments were brought in to jam illegal transmissions by the terrorists themselves. Any frequency not registered with a bona fide news or research group was jammed with the consent of the country of uplink.

In the following years there was a spate of killings by the terrorist organizations all over the world, but the resolve not to air terrorism related news held. Slowly, the outfits disbanded. Some were apprehended or eliminated due to defection. Defections for the sake of money.

Basat Galilee’s organizations were the last of the terrorist organizations remaining after seven years.

The Secretary General received the call she was expecting at 1230 hours GMT. She recited the launch codes and said, "Fire."

***

Basat Galilee was the most wanted criminal in the world. But nobody, outside the law enforcers, knew who he was. No common man feared the great Basat Galilee. That was his problem. Nobody knew what he had achieved. The most successful terrorist and nobody knew about him! What a tragedy!

But the killing of Zimmerman by a 42-megaton device would change all that. That would be news. Then they would sit up and take notice when Basat Galilee made a demand. Or required funds. Unlimited funds for unlimited anarchy. After all, it is not everyday that you assassinate the man of the century.

Then money will start to pour in again. He’ll show the non-believers that violence is the only way, in the end! The notorious Galilee! The king of carnage! The revered Galilee! The--

At 1248 GMT the sky over Basat Galilee, holding a glass of Champaign with his associates, shone with the light of a thousand suns. "Even God blesses me now!" he thought.

He died with these thoughts in his mind. Thoughts of self-greatness. A merciful death for an unmerciful man.

It was as well that he was not alive to see the news the next day. Basat Galilee didn’t get one column centimeter of space in any newspaper across the globe. No mention of his name on any news channels. Basat...who?

A freak meteor strike in the Ural Mountains was reported on page three.

On January 1 2100, the world woke up to find all news channels reporting the death of Dr. Thomas Zimmerman. Due to a freak meteor strike. A great man had died in the service of mankind and peace.

That, definitely, was news!

***

The year was 2128 AD and far away in the great void between two non-discrept spiral galaxies where silence and darkness was absolute, a small fragile craft sailed the winds of space. On board the spacecraft, its single occupant – a wizened old man of eighty-four – was waiting for life to ebb out of his frail body. His bones had become brittle due to long years in zero gravity. His hair was completely white and face lined with wrinkles. But the clear blue eyes retained a spark of intelligence, which would remain till the end. He wore no specs.

Dr. Thomas Zimmerman was at peace with the Universe. Petty problems on a petty speck of dust called earth had ceased to be of concern to him. He spent his time reading about the subjects which he never found time to do on earth.

Earth had not been in contact with him since Uma Obuchi’s farewell message at 1200 GMT on December 31 2099.

He had known all along that such an attempt would be made on his life sooner rather than later. He also knew that the expenditure required to make such an attempt would mortally cripple the finances of the already reeling terrorist organizations. They would never recover from this final blow to the fundamental cause of terrorism, money. Money for murder. Now there would be no money.

Dr. Zimmerman was broke. So were the terrorists. Space programs aren’t exactly cheap by any standards.

What the terrorists hadn’t known was that he was prepared to defend himself. He had destroyed their rocket using a decoy at ten thousand miles from his ship. It had provided spectacular relief in the monotony of his existence.

As earth thought that he was dead, he was safe from future threats. As long as he didn’t get a communiqué by an alien civilization! He wasn’t very keen on either.

Zimmerman smiled to himself as he thought,

"No news is good news!"

"I’m 33 years old, married, and have an 18 month old daughter. I’m an Engineer in Computer Science. My business is construction and investments. I live in Pune, India. I am a polymath. I play a dozen instruments, especially the sitar and the violin with which I’ve given public performances. I’m trying to get a scientific paper published in a reputed American journal, which has already accepted the premises for the same. And I like to learn new skills.

"I want to write stories which cram ideas mile- a- minute. The future has its own set of problems ready for us. I want to explore those. I’ve written a book, which explores the future of the latest scientific theories and their philosophical implications. The book is in need of a publisher! (Although I confess that I haven’t sent it to a publisher yet as I feel it needs brushing up).

"This is my first publication."

E-mail: swanandarole@hotmail.com

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