The Press Conference: Part 1

Anticipation was the only word to describe it. A flurry of motion and noise emanated from the 400 or so people that stood in the large press room of the white house. Most of those people were foreign; reporters from newsrooms, papers, and magazines from every corner of the world, flown to the U.S. in the past three days for the event. It would turn out to be the most important press conference in the history of journalism. They had been specially selected from each major news corporation for the task as the rule that was so overpoweringly stressed and so strongly enforced was that but one reporter in attendance for every company was the absolute limit. Those of them who were not in front of live cameras talking to millions of people from their countries, getting them prepared for this news, now stood arguing and boasting to one another about various sources of information and mythic stories they had on file. They were the same stories that had been gracing everything from CNN headlines to supermarket tabloids for the past 18 months. It all came down to today. Even these people, as ignorant to the truth as they were knew the importance of what was about to be revealed.

Among the very few people in the room who now were remaining still and quiet was Gabriel Morianno. He stood with his back to the curtain that separated him from the reporters, off to the left of the raised podium, littered with microphones that towered at the front of the room. He was slowly looking around the blocked off area at the five people staring back at him. The first, his wife Chantel had pity in her eyes. She did not know what he was about to tell the world but she knew what it would mean. She apart from everyone here could read it in his eyes. It was very bad news. To her left stood Darren Sax, vice president of the United States, a man he had known since months before his journey and the only one here apart from Chantel that he trusted in the least. Next to Sax was Daniel Sutherland, the president. He was new to his presidency, had been elected while Gabe was gone. What a time to be instated in charge of the world’s super power he thought. After Sutherland was Vince Matthews, some military advisor dickhead, a general maybe. Sax had told Gabe his actual title, but he had dismissed it immediately; it was irrelevant. Finally was Connie Lambe, the secretary of defense. Gabe liked her. She had a good heart, but she was not prepared, nor would ever be prepared for what he was about to tell her. She would be of no help in the things to come. On that thought, he wondered how much good he, himself was going to do in the situation, but then remembered what he had learned in the past year and a half. It was a useless thought, depression, making the self feel insignificant. He had traveled a very long way to be here, and such thoughts were not the purpose behind his trip.

At length, it was Matthews who broke the silence between them.

"“Emissary, I’ll ask you once more. Don’t do this. I know you mean well, but if the things you have to say are as profound as you make it seem then it will only cause a worldwide hysteria that will cost lives.”" Gabe did not take his eyes from his wife’s for the whole conversation. He could tell that she recognized how much Matthews’ first word had irritated him. It had been a mistake to call him by that title.

"“I will tell you once more Vince, my name is Gabriel and if you call me that again I will feed your decorations to you. And believe it or not, your repeated, mindless pleas to stop something you know nothing about are not making the slightest impact on my judgment.”" With that Gabe stole a quick glance to Sax, and another, longer look to his wife, then turned and walked towards the podium.