Candidate of the Apocalypse Episode 11

"The Return"

"You were held for three days by a group of armed men and freed by the FBI in a dramatic rescue.  What can you tell us about your experience?"

"Well, Matt, it was something for me to hear their voices as they came through the door!  But my perspective is a little skewed.  At the time I was hooded and tied to a chair."

"Tell me about those moments."

"There were four men.  They rarely talked to me.  They asked no questions and mostly kept to themselves.  I was brought food once a day and given a few minutes to walk around before being tied up again.  At the end there was a sudden argument.  They were speaking some foreign language that I didn't understand.  They got to fighting amongst themselves.  It got so bad my chair was knocked over.  I could hear them scuffling all around me.  Suddenly there was a blast and in came the cavalry."

"Were you able to meet those men?"

"Briefly.  They brought me back to headquarters so I could call my family and let them know I was ok.  I was debriefed there."

"I'm afraid those men were not available this morning,  But we are pleased to have as our guest FBI director Bill Torres.  Bill, I understand there was a surprising twist to this story."

"Yes, there was.  This case is most unusual in that the kidnappers made no effort to contact us with any demands.  We didn't and still don't know their identities or who put them up to it.  That put us at a severe disadvantage until we got an anonymous tip that led us to the right place..."

Franks turned the TV off.  He knew what was coming next.  Lies.  Why is it that the big dogs leave all the work to the underlings, then, when a camera crew shows up they swoop in to take the credit?  Well, no matter. The public would probably never know the true story...

The boy rarely looked up and never answered a question directly.  His dad did all the talking.  They lived alone a couple of blocks from the old Fulton River District.  Even though large parts of the area had been renovated in recent years, there were still a few abandoned and lifeless buildings.  Franks got the gist pretty fast.  The boy had wandered away from his home one evening and was hiding when a van drew by.

"Three men were carrying another out of the van into the building."

"But it was dark, how could he have seen it?"

"They were back-lit by a streetlight nearby."

"Why wasn't he seen?"

"Come on, he's pretty small.  Besides, it was night and he was hiding under some stairs."

"How was he able to tell you this when he doesn't speak?"

The man pulled out his cell phone and opened an app.  "Here. This is designed for autistic children.  I talk to my son using these symbols.  They give me an avenue into his world, and to him it's a game.  I save all our conversations so I can learn to better communicate with him."

He showed Franks a series of symbols.  A sad face, a man, the number 4, a horse with a rider, and a stick.

"He was sad because to him, the man they were carrying was sick.  He doesn't have a symbol for 'carry' so he substituted 'ride'."

"What about the stick?"

"I'm not for sure about that one.  I think he means - guns."  He whispered.

"When was this?"

"Two night ago, late."

"Does he remember where it was?"

"Of course."

"Tell the boy we want to help the sick man, if he can show us the place.  Will he do that?

The father touched a couple of icons on his screen.  In a moment the boy responded.
The icon was a happy face.

"Yes."

"Let's go."

It took a while for them to arrive at the building.  Chicago traffic being what it was.  They approached from an angle they knew wouldn't tip the kidnappers off to their presence.  The team formed up at the end of the building and the boy verified, through video cam, the doorway.  Franks had some other agents quietly take the boy and his dad away.  He took one last look at his men.

"Showtime!"

They were quick and deadly.  Each man carried at least three weapons and a couple of other tricks too.  Like a little fiber-optic camera that allowed them to peek around corners without being spotted.  The hallway was empty.  Quietly they checked each room using the camera.  It didn't take long.  The men used silent gestures so each would know his assignment, which kidnapper to take out.  Right then everything went south.  Screams burst from inside the room.  The agents thought they were made and Charles' life was in imminent danger.  Franks set the charge and blew the door.  Seconds later it was over.

Episode 10: Candidate of the Apocalypse

"Franks"

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen:  I am honored to stand before you on this important night.  By being here you are sending a message.  That message is simple.  You care about the United States of America and its future.  For the past several weeks our campaign slogan has been, 'It's my property, and it's my money.'  This is a theme which resonates with you.  I know, I've read your e-mails!  Thousands of them! (What he was saying was not far from the truth. He was a voracious reader.)  Our purpose is to point out a problem - an attitude that permeates our federal government today.  An attitude that says, 'What's yours is mine.' And they are perfectly willing to take it too.  If not directly through egregious taxation: then indirectly by endless regulation and mandates.  There is a word for taking something that does not belong to you - stealing!  Since when to the feds have the authority to tell a private enterprise to get rid of its chief executive?  Since when do they have the authority to take over a company?  And since when do they have the authority to order private citizens to buy something?  Or else! "

The standing room only crowd responded has he talked.  Charles continued:

"The implications of Federal interference in our personal and economic lives are clear.  If they can reach into a big company and order it around, they can reach into a small one and do the same.  If they can order you to buy something, anything, what is to stop them from ordering you to shop at certain stores, or send your children to certain schools.  I think you know this is an extremely dangerous direction for any government, and especially ours, to take.

Fortunately, we have a precedent established a little over two hundred years ago.  Our Founding Fathers put the idea to pen like this:  "...That when any government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it..."

"Are you going to stare at that computer screen all day?"

Franks turned in his chair to see his friend and colleague in the doorway.

"Got a couple of interviews in an hour, Mike.  Thought I'd make use of the time with some research."

"Shouldn't you be researching the perps rather than the victim?"

"I know, but it's been three days and nothing has surfaced so far.  I thought something in these videos would give me a clue as to why he became a target in the first place."

"What have you found?"

"Nothing, really.  He seems to be an upstanding guy who's running out of a genuine desire for change."

"Change?  I thought the present regime was going to take care of that."

"Apparently they have, except it's all been in the wrong direction."  Franks turned his head back to the screen.  Charles was still talking.

"Let me ask a question, how many people are tasked with ruling over us?  What would that total be?  The House of Representatives numbers 435.  The Senate is comprised of 100 members.  Then we have to add the President, Vice President and the Supreme Court.  All in all that makes 546 people.  That's it.  You know, if those 546 people decided today to stop spending, it would happen.  If they decided to reform the tax code, explore oil fields within the continental US, reduce the size and scope of the EPA, or make any number of positive changes, they would happen.  Obviously that is not the case..."

Franks paused the video and turned to his friend.

"Time to go.  Hey, Mike, before I leave, let me show you something.  I got this really strange email yesterday.  I can't seem to locate it's source.  Might have some implications in the investigation. Can you help me with it?

"Sure.  Let me take a look."

A few minutes later he said, "Yea, this is a little strange.  May I use your computer?"

"I'd rather you didn't.  I've got a lot of things going on right now, but Hank (he nodded to the office on the right) is out on vacation for another couple of days.  He wouldn't mind."

Mike nodded, "Just give me a moment to get in."

Franks shot the email over to the other computer, gathered his things and strode down the hall.

Shortly the elevator doors opened and Franks walked briskly across the lobby.  He was mentally going over the questions to ask in his upcoming interviews.  To be honest, he wasn't optimistic.  Neither witness was able to come up with much specific info, but due diligence was required, and time was pressing.

He was almost out the door when someone grabbed his sleeve.  "Blast", he said to himself.  He was in a hurry.  The man was short with a pale be-speckled face.  Beside him was a slight boy who refused to look at him.  Something was in his hand.

"May I help you?"  Franks turned to face the man.  He wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

"Well, er, y-y-yes," the man stuttered.  Franks sighed, this was going to take a while.

"What floor is the FBI on?"

"Eleventh floor, turn right and it's straight ahead."

"Thank you, Ummm, are you FBI?"

"I am.  Field Agent Tommy Franks at your service."

"Over here, Brian,"  The man guided the boy over to some chairs where he sat down while the men stood and talked.  Franks now saw that he held an iPhone in his hand.  Without looking up the boy started playing a game, oblivious to everything else.

His father turned to Franks and started talking.

Ten minutes later Franks pulled his phone and called the head of the strike team assigned to his case.  "Get your team ready.  Now!" he growled.

Interval Training: The Now Workout?

It was the late 70's and I was a sophomore at Liberty University.  On the first day of wrestling practice Coach Bonheim called us together and announced: "All right, this year we are going to do something a little different."  He went on to explain how practices would be organized.  Every other day we would be wrestling.  The in-between days were to be spent practicing moves.  This was my introduction to interval training.

Wrestling days began with body-weight exercises.  Coach was a bit leery of free-weights back then.  Afterward the real work started.  A typical session would go like this:  Wrestling for a 1 minute period, then 2 minutes, then 3.  Next:  3 minutes, 2 minutes and 1 minute.  Between we would circle the mat and check our pulse.  Once our heart rate fell below 120 we would start again.  Thus it would continue.  Each practice would include about 45 minutes of full-on wrestling.

Off days would serve two purposes:  Recovery from the previous day; and refinement of skills.  This was radically different from what I had known before and I was curious about the effects.  They turned out to be good.  The team had a winning season and we placed 3rd in the NCCAA (National Christian College Athletic Association) tournament.  The previous year we had placed 5th.  The effect on me?  Unfortunately I had to leave the team for more pressing matters early in the season.  But the short time I had put me in arguably the best shape of my life.  I had a resting heart rate of 50.  I was strong with great endurance and flexibility.

That was then.  Today interval training and its numerous variations are among the most popular forms of exercise.  They promise all the usual benefits of training; weight loss, increased energy, muscle mass, etc, in a much shorter time frame.  I am speaking of a couple of studies which seem to show that short, intense bursts of energy can have the same effectiveness as longer, less intense sessions.

I decided to test this idea on a willing subject - me.  What kinds of changes would a high-intensity workout engender?  Not being a gym rat anymore, I own exactly three pieces of equipment.  Two 40 lb dumbbells and a NordicTrack bicycle.

On alternate days I do weights.  Back, chest (in the form of pushups), abs, shoulders and arms.  Three sets each with no more than 3 minutes rest in between.  I warm up with a quick sprint on the bike, and usually hit it again halfway through to keep my heart rate (way) up.  The in between days consist of bicycle sprints:  4 of them with 3 minutes rest in between.  This may sound like a short session.  It is.  I spend no more than 1 minute at a time riding, but my pace is furious.  Some days I go at my absolute max speed.  These last for about 30 seconds.  Other days I go at the highest rate I can perform for 1 minute.

The new workout had an immediate effect, mostly in a negative sense.  The pain in my legs by the end of each sprint was tremendous. I would be sucking air like crazy and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.  This is certainly not for the squeamish! It took a few weeks for my body to adapt to this new workout.  Now I'm developing some variations to make the sprints even more intense.  My heart and breathing are still through the roof when I'm riding, but I recover quickly and by the next start time I'm more than ready to go again.

The effects?  My muscles are tight and feel great.  I haven't lost any appreciable muscle mass even though I have to do more reps than before.  Sure, the intensity leaves my legs tight, but I remedy that with stretching on off days.  On the up side, I am rarely tired or out of breath.  And what about my resting heart rate?  It's not 50 anymore.  Actually, it's a bit lower.

This type of workout carries a high discomfort factor, that's true.  But the benefits are well worth the effort.

A Few Thoughts on Complexity

When we think about the ongoing debate between creationists and evolutionists, at some point the question of complexity comes up. The universe as we know it is complex and that points to a creator we would say. Not so, they retort, something can be complex and not have a designer or creator. Really? I could make a general statement that everything is complex, but it doesn't tell the whole story. Some things are more complex than others. Here are some considerations we should take into account. What makes something complex? Kind of a difficult question, but we can identify a few characteristics. First, let's talk:

Parts:
The number of parts is a factor, but that is only one aspect of it. An hourglass has lots of parts (grains of sand) but it is not really very complex. A pocket watch, however, is another matter. It contains lots of parts which are distinct from each other in material, size, shape and internal complexity. By this I am referring to the kinds of operations which are necessary to make the part fulfill its purpose. Some are made of flat metal with a couple of holes punched in them. Others are cast, drilled to precise measurements, have other parts, like bearings pressed into them, are heat treated, ground, tapped, grooved or knurled. They in and of themselves are complicated and made to exacting standards. We could also make a case for uniqueness. That is, does the part only exist in this environment, or is it widely available. Honorable mention would go the amount of time and energy required to bring all the different raw materials together for manufacture.

More than Parts:

But one thing is missing from the above argument. That would be the holistic nature of the mechanism. Is a watch more than the sum of its parts? Yes, definitely. What is it that makes the mechanism more? The fact that force and procedure must be applied to the parts in order to make them work. I alluded to this when I mentioned internal complexity. Parts alone do not make a watch. One can assemble all the necessary pieces, put them in a bag and leave them for a million years and they will never tell time no matter how much the bag is shaken, stirred or flipped. More is needed.

Force needs to be applied. Having the parts in close proximity to each other is nice, but someone, or some thing, (as in a robotic arm) must grasp the parts and put them in place. Fasteners will be needed to hold the parts together. If the fastener is a screw, it must be positioned and tightened in a specific way. Bearings are another matter. Watch makers often use jewels as bearings because of their resistance to wear. The force required for them must be very specific. If they fit too tight or too loose the watch will not achieve its full potential. It may wear out too fast, or not keep good time. If it is a mechanical watch, the spring mechanism must be placed in such a way that it will have some tension on it. Again, force must be specifically applied. Just the application of force is not good enough. Parts must be assembled according to certain:

Procedures. A watch cannot be put together in a haphazard manner. Since each part is interdependent they need to be assembled in a specific order. Fit between the various gears, bearings and drive mechanism is critical. Tolerances must be attended to. Often, the fit between parts is adjusted before tightening.

The fact that force is judiciously applied and certain procedures are adhered to means intelligence. Intelligence is not simply implied. It is a necessary condition. Some mind must consider the parts and their relationship with each other. That same mind must direct their energy in the best way to assemble the mechanism. Under no other condition will a watch work. Ever.

Now let's consider a cell in light of the same questions.

While a watch may contain hundreds of parts, a cell contains thousands of them. Some are chemicals, others are miniature structures. A few are unique to the cell and found nowhere else on earth. All are microscopic in size. The nucleus contains the blueprint (DNA), written in chemical code for all cellular operations, and also gives the cell the ability to reproduce itself with great accuracy. Other devices read DNA and perform its instructions. Cells contain their own metabolic power supply (mitochondria) and internal highway system (endoplasmic reticulum) These parts are enveloped in a semi-permeable skin, which is an engineering marvel in and of itself.

All in all, a cell is several orders of complexity higher than any watch. It is holistic too. It has already been 'wound' up. It is alive.

And that's a trick no watch maker has ever been able to pull off.


The above photo was copied from the Wikipedia article titled: "Watchmaker Analogy".
Here is the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watchmaker_analogy.
Also: Interested in what it might take to build a watch? Try this link: http://web.ticino.com/dcorson/watch/

Episode 9: Candidate of the Apocalypse

Vance took a last puff of his cigarette and squashed it out. It was almost time. He had parked his car up here more than an hour before, half a block away from the Briar Street Theater. His mission was simple, to disrupt a political rally by any means possible. The candidate was a relative unknown, but he was supported by the Tea Party and that was enough for him, or, for his bosses anyway.

Vance's contact was nothing more than a voice, but he sure paid well. The call had come from a blocked phone a week before. If he was successful, and he usually was, a significant deposit would be made into one of his accounts. Cracking his knuckles and neck, he secretly hoped to get into a fight. But something wasn't quite right. He had been monitoring the sidewalk traffic for almost an hour and had seen no one approach the theater. Checking his watch again he saw it was only 15 minutes before the meeting was to begin. "These guys sure are running late tonight", he thought. Just then his phone rang....

Charles quickly ascended the podium. He stood smiling and nodding to acknowledge the crowd. With a raise of his hand the cheering stopped.

"First of all I would like to thank a few of you who somehow were able to book us at this beautiful edifice! Let's have a cheer for the Bank of America Theater!" As the crowd roared Charles nodded to a few people against the back wall who were smiling broadly.

"....What do you mean I've got the wrong place! This is the address they sent me!"

The voice on the phone rose in pitch and volume for a few moments, then calmed. Vance listened intently as the muscles in his neck tensed.

"Yes sir, I'll try and do better next time."

Vance got out of the car and paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Now what? He had fallen into disfavor with his bosses. Someone must have known what he was up to and led him on a wild goose chase. He'd been had. That realization worked its way through his mind and enraged him. "All right, two can play at that game. I know a few people too!" His phone came up to his ear and in a moment he was speaking in hushed tones to a man on the other end....

Charles held up the front page of yesterday's newspaper to display the headline.

"Tonight we will be talking about politics and the economy. First I want to explode a myth to you. A lot of times we see politicians in the news saying something like, 'We're going to put people back to work!' Or some variation of that. It doesn't matter what political party they represent. They're lying! The fact of the matter is this-governments do not and cannot create jobs. People do. We can see from a couple of thousand years of history that the powers of government have tried all kinds of different things to affect, or control the marketplace. And do you know how many times they have succeeded? Zero! An obvious lesson for us, isn't it? The best thing any government can do to promote economic growth is simply to get out of the way."

From his vantage point against the wall, his campaign manager had an excellent view of the crowd. They were fully engaged with Charles as he spoke. They smiled at his witticisms, nodded as he made each point and applauded regularly. The hard work their campaign had put in for the last year was showing. From the very beginning Charles had insisted on recording every talk he made. Not out of conceit, which was absent from his persona, but to help him get better. Every answer, along with his body language and facial expressions were examined in detail. Charles had honed his skills like a craftsman. The truth was that he already had many of the best qualities in place. He was friendly, personable, self-effacing and intelligent. He had a way of speaking to the issues softly but powerfully and could inspire confidence in just about any audience.

But tonight was something special.

His speech drew a standing ovation and Charles easily moved into the question and answer portion of the evening. Unlike most candidates at so called town hall meetings, none of the questions were screened. Charles stayed on the platform for this while some volunteers worked their way through the audience. Each one carried a portable camera so the questioner's face could be broadcast on the big screen up front. His answers were straight from the shoulder with no notes. His grasp of the issues, though considerable, was stretched to the limit. Questions covered every major and minor issue. Charles was able to keep upbeat and positive through it all.

Before long the meeting wound to a close. Most people filed out, but some stayed, hanging around in small groups with the largest around Charles. Like every meeting, (time permitting, of course) he would not leave until he had talked personally with everyone. It was past eleven o'clock when they finally shut the lights in the auditorium down. Charles had been there for over five hours and the fatigue was showing on his face. All that was left was to sign a few papers. His campaign manager would perform this task. Charles left first.

A few minutes later his manager came out of the theater, trotted across West Monroe and turned left. Their car was just up the street. As he walked his mind was thinking about the next day's schedule. They would start early at Good Day Chicago. That meant very little sleep tonight. But there would be an opportunity to catch a few winks on the flight back tomorrow afternoon. Just then his thoughts were interrupted. Something was going on up ahead. Some kind of struggle. He paused for a moment, not out of fear, but curiosity. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs and took off running. Some thugs were attacking Charles!

"Hey!" he shouted, "Leave that guy alone!" One of the masked men turned his head toward the manager and pointed a pistol in his direction. Seeing the gun he dove to the side, just in time to see the muzzle flash out the corner of his eye. He heard the whine of the bullet as it passed through the space where he was a moment ago. There was no fear at the moment. That would come later. He rolled to his feet and saw that Charles was being hauled into a van. The door slammed shut and tires squealed as it took off. The manager ran out into the street unable to do anything except watch as the van disappeared into the night.

"Help! Help!" He cried into the air with tears streaming down his face.

Episode 8: Candidate of the Apocalypse Part 2

"Ahhhhh!" The menacing faces disappeared and Charles found himself sitting up in bed. It had been a dream. He shook his head to clear it and discovered there was indeed a hand on his shoulder. His campaign manager had risen earlier from the other bed, and hearing his distress moved to wake him. A few moments were necessary for Charles to re-orient himself. What day was it? March 20th, 2011. Where was he? Redding, California. Room 225 in the downtown Holiday Inn. Looking at the clock he saw it was 5:55 AM. In two hours he was to speak at a breakfast get-together with the Redding Merchants Association. Afterward they would be chauffeured into the country for a series of seminars and question/answer sessions for the rest of the day.

"The dream again?"

Charles nodded. For the last few weeks he had been plagued with them.

"Man! That was intense!" Charles got up and paced around while he related a few details from the dream. Then he poured a cup of coffee and they ran over his schedule. It was a busy one. He was going to speak some five times that day-on different subjects. For each talk a folder had been prepared with the most up-to-date and pertinent information. Normally Charles preferred a more extemporaneous approach. His outlines were often just key words on a sheet of paper. But this was a conference and he wanted to have the documentation at his fingertips.

A few minutes later, he nodded. "This is very impressive! We're going to knock-em dead today." With that he rose to shower and get ready.

His manager nodded and shifted toward the computer. He had been working on their web site. It was puzzling. For some time now his goal was to use every internet tool possible to spread their message and promote Charles as a viable alternative to normal party politics. Facebook, Twitter, blogs, emails and the rest were his domain. He found that their 'no money' policy was a good hook, but now more was needed to keep interest in the cause. His web site featured a literal cornucopia of information and resources. There was a set of links to the best and most conservative sites. Both he and Charles wrote weekly articles about the role of government and law to a free society; and the consequences when these roles were exceeded. Both their blogs were updated daily with running commentary about the issues at hand. He recorded every talk Charles made and excerpts were posted on a regular basis. They had multiple areas for their followers to comment. One, called 'My Take', allowed individuals to offer their own solutions to everything from health care to tax reform. Needless to say, this was a popular and lively forum. The best of these ideas were featured prominently on the site. In fact, many of them were quite good. He had also set up the network to be as decentralized as possible. The sister and mirror sites were maintained and updated by volunteers, who had a measure of control over them. A bit of latitude was allowed to keep local groups focused and interested. It had taken quite a while for him to put all this together, and the rewards were beginning to show. Membership was increasing rapidly. Charles had garnered the attention of the Tea Party and became a speaker at their events. Everything was in place for the big push which would begin later this year. All in all he was confident of their chances. What was needed now was some nudge, a seminal event for Charles' candidacy to explode on the national stage. Were that to happen he would be unstoppable.

Yet he had to face a feeling that something wasn't quite right. This mood was unrelated to Charles' leadership or his abilities. He was a great boss. No. It was something external and cast a pall over every victory, every achievement.

When the threats began he supposed they were from some disenchanted individual or group. It was soon apparent they were not. And when he used his (considerable) programming skills to find the culprits, he found nothing but dead ends. The perpetrators, whoever they be, were pretty slick. But the demands of the campaign left no time to concentrate on some (hopefully) empty threats. However, they continued, becoming more and more specific as well as more violent. Soon they could no longer be ignored. He sought advice from law enforcement officers who specialized in cyber-crime, to no avail. Now he was quietly asking for plainclothes officers and off-duty policemen to attend their meetings and keep and eye out for anything suspicious.

As campaign manager he was rarely on center stage but always near it. That fact allowed him to be in a unique position. He could watch the audience and read their faces. While most of the people in the crowds were fully engaged, smiling and upbeat; a few started appearing with scowls and frowns. When he attempted to corner these individuals and find out what their concerns were he was met with stone faced silence. They were obviously being watched. But by whom? He could not tell. It was quite normal for politicians to keep tabs on their opponents; but this behavior had a sinister feel. In the past few days the number of threats had increased considerably. His gut was warning him that something bad was going down in just two weeks. All the threats pointed to Chicago.

But he had a few tricks up his sleeve, too.

A Quick Thought on Creation

The watchmaker argument is still a good one. I was reading a skeptic blog some time back and it seems that someone asked a RSG (really smart guy - ie, a scientist) about it. He replied (and I'm paraphrasing) that it didn't seem like much to compare a watch to the universe. My reaction was, "of course!" It is kind of trivial to do so. I find it quite sad that an otherwise brilliant man can look at a watch and know it had a designer and then that same guy can turn around, look at the universe which is, what, a trillion times more complex, and say it had none.