Free Cthulhu Attacks!: Book 1: The Fear by Sean Hoade Page A

minutes passed, during which almost no words were spoken; then it was back to business. “Doctor Tyson,” the President said, “you suggested during our brainstorming session that this could be some kind of ‘Superbloop.’”
    Tyson nodded, looking to all the room that he wished to hell he hadn’t.
    “What would cause such a thing? Extra-strong glacial movement? Could that cause such a weird radiation output? I mean, if it’s even radiation at all?”
    “To be completely honest, I don’t know. Bob and I put out some feelers during the break to various scientific entities entrusted with studying the weirdest possible situations. These are scientists , mind you, Madam President, men and women who are as meticulous in their research methods as anyone in the world.”
    “I don’t know if I like this preamble.” There were a few laughs in the room, including from Tyson and Nye.
    “I don’t blame you,” Tyson said. “These are people who have brought their extensive knowledge and scientific skills to work for the United States’ ultimate security. They study and develop protocols for things like an alien invasion, like a ‘zombie epidemic’—which would in reality be something along the lines of the flu virus and rabies virus merging to produce a kind of hyper-aggressive, highly contagious state, all too plausible—or a psychic attack.”
    “Psychic attack? What in the hell is this?” General Adamson blurted, then reddened and said, “My apologies, Doctor Tyson. Madam President.”
    Tyson gave a very slight chuckle and said, “No, they are charged with developing the craziest of crazy contingency plans, I admit, but it’s vital work in situations exactly like the one the world just experienced—where an extreme ‘black swan event’ paralyzes action and nearly prevents any thought, since it’s so utterly unprecedented.”
    “Like a Superbloop?” Hampton asked.
    “Madam President, I’m sorry I even said that. There is no such thing as a ‘Superbloop.’ The Bloop in 1997 was strong and loud but did no damage to anything or anyone. I threw ‘Superbloop’ out there basically as an ‘X’ quantity, a variable to hold the place of something with the power and—if caused by a living thing or group of things—the will to bring about such an Event.”
    “And what did your scientists tell you?”
    “They are, as I am, cleared in cases of national emergency to share highly classified information with relevant members of your Cabinet. So, Jack, this is no breach of security, all right?”
    Patterson nodded impatiently, not thrilled by the attention thrown on him again.
    “My god,” the President said, “what could they possibly have said?”
    “They said—and I apologize for the language, Madam President—‘ We have no fucking idea .’”
    The President smiled ironically at that, but the amused expression soon faded: coming from the greatest minds in the world dedicated to the most outrageous, most infinitesimally possible disasters in the universe, We have no fucking idea was chilling indeed. “Did they … well, did they have anything else to say? Something that might be helpful to us in this room as we try to make sense of the greatest tragedy in human history?”
    “They did,” Tyson said, looking a little sick. “They said the Event was impossible.”
    “Another ‘impossible,’” the President muttered in a defeated sigh. “Jesus Christ.”
    “Maybe that’s what it is!” the House Armed Services Committee Chair exclaimed, almost jumping out of his seat. “Maybe God caused this! He alone can do the impossible!”
    “I thought we had ruled out magic,” Nye whispered wryly to Tyson, who only barely kept a smile from forming on his face.
    The President put her hand over her eyes and said, “Congressman, if God just killed half a billion human beings, I doubt there’s anything we can do to stop Him from doing it again or worse. In other words, if this is Jesus cracking His holy