38

April

The UN summit was the first time I'd gotten dressed up to go anywhere since losing my legs. Don had finished my "Professor X" chair as he called it, and I had to admit it was one of the best things he'd ever made. It really did float, though it was black, not yellow. The laser cannons he'd mounted to the side were easy to target and use. He'd put in a cell phone, a GPS system, and an internet link. It could easily be hooked up to even more equipment to turn me into a one woman command center. No, I no longer felt helpless.

I'd figured out the basics of how to get dressed, so I went for the little black dress and pearls. Not that anyone could see whether it was a dress or not. I clipped on my guest badge and looked up. Casey, in a tuxedo of all things, was standing in the doorway, smiling at me. He held out a dozen roses. "They aren't as beautiful as you, doll," he said, in his very typical devil-may-care sort of way, "But they're yours."

I smiled up at him, feeling vaguely guilty. I knew he was interested. I knew he was. My heart was in another direction and I couldn't even justify it. My mind was a wash of conflict. I had feelings for someone who was out of my age bracket. Out of my species bracket. Casey was in both of those brackets. I told myself it had more to do with the fact that he wasn't even my intellectual equal, and then I told myself to stop thinking about it. I was not some sort of woman who needed a man to feel complete. Maybe I'd just stay single. Staying single had a nice appeal.

I'd never been to any sort of political gathering. I found myself just people watching. I saw people I'd only seen on t.v. Casey soon had to go to trail his boss, so I tried to make polite conversation with aids. I was growing bored and I was growing restless. Why had I come out?

"That is most remarkable!" The voice at my elbow was open and happy, full of life and curiosity. I turned the chair a little, and found myself face to face with the famous Chaim Rosenzweig.

"Thank you! A very good friend of mine made this for me when I lost the use of my legs. It happened during the disappearances," I explained.

I liked Chaim immediately, all the more so for his sudden beam. "I should very much like to meet your friend someday. An inventor like myself. I'm Chaim Rosenzweig."

I decided not to giggle that he thought he needed to introduce himself, and offered my hand. "I am April O'Neal. And he's something of a recluse, I'm afraid."

"Ahh, a man deep in his work. A man after my own heart. Did he send you with those lovely roses?"

"No, that was my friend Casey. He's -- one of Mr. Carpathia's bodyguards."

Chaim beamed even more, if that was possible. "Carpathia. Yes, Carpathia. He's so impressive. I love that young man. He's going to make history. Perhaps even tonight! And you and I," he paused, getting two fruit drinks off a tray and handing one to me, "You and I will be here to see it!" He clinked his glass to mine and we both drank, both grinning.

We did not have long to wait. I spotted Casey first, but he was part of Carpathia's entourage. They entered in a rather unobtrusive manner. Chaim made some apologies and went to slip into the entourage. I really didn't mind. I was flattered that he'd taken even a few minutes to speak to me.

Secretary-General Mwangati Ngumo of Botswana announced that the assembly was privileged to hear briefly from the new president of the nation of Romania and that the formal introduction of their guest would be made by the honorable Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig, with whom they were all familiar.

Rosenzweig hurried to the podium with a vigor that belied his age, and he initially received a more enthusiastic response than did Carpathia. The popular Israeli statesman and scholar said simply that it gave him great pleasure to introduce "to this worthy and august body a young man I respect and admire as much as anyone I've ever met. Please welcome His Honor, President Nicolae Carpathia of Romania."

I was as caught up in the flood as anyone as cheers broke out over the assembly. Carpathia did not pull out any notes or any speech at all.

He spoke earnestly, with passion, with a frequent smile, and with occasional, appropriate humor. He mentioned respectfully that he was aware that it had not been a full week yet since the disappearance of millions all over the world, including many who would have been "in this very room." Carpathia spoke primarily in perfect English with only a hint of Romanian accent. He used no contractions and enunciated every syllable of every word. He employed all nine languages with which he was fluent, each time translating himself into English.

Carpathia began by announcing that he was humbled and moved to visit "for the first time this historic site, where nation after nation has set its sights. One by one they have come from all over the globe on pilgrimages as sacred as any to the Holy Lands, exposing their faces to the heat of the rising sun. Here they have taken their stand for peace in a once-and-for all, rock-solid commitment to putting behind them the insanity of war and bloodshed. These nations, great and small, have had their fill of the death and maiming of their most promising citizens in the prime of their youth.

"Our forebears were thinking globally long before I was born," Carpathia said. "In 1944, the year the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank were established, this great host nation, the United States of America, along with the British Commonwealth and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, met at the famous Dumbarton Oaks Conference to propose the birth of this body."

Displaying his grasp of history and his photographic memory of dates and places, Carpathia intoned, "From its official birth on October 24, 1945, and that first meeting of your General Assembly in London, January 10, 1946, to this day, tribes and nations have come together to pledge their whole hearted commitment to peace, brotherhood, and the global community."

I paused and frowned at that one. The "global community" sounded a little like a buzz word to me, like some sort of international, political psychobabble. For all his charisma I couldn't help but think that he was just another politician. I leaned forward and began looking up some of the dates that he'd named on my internet uplink. All of them were accurate. His speech continued, rolling and washing over my head.

He began in almost a whisper, "From lands distant and near they have come: from Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria..." He continued, his voice rising and falling dramatically with careful pronunciation of the name of each member country of the United Nations. He listed them all, country after country.

With each name, someone from that country rose in dignity and stood erect, as if voting anew for peace among nations. Carpathia smiled and nodded at each as they rose, and nearly every country was represented. Soon, the representatives began applauding as each new country was called forth.

Even my cynicism was melting away. Tears stung my eyes. He was really heartfelt up there. Even with his buzzwords, I could feel it, his love and admiration filling the room, uplifting us all. If I could have stood, I would have. I felt myself hanging on each name, waiting for the United States of America to be called forth.

Carpathia's voice grew more emotional and powerful with each new country name.

"Somalia! South Africa! Spain! Sri Lanka! Sudan! Suriname! Swaziland! Sweden! Syria!"

More than five minutes into the recitation, Carpathia had not missed a beat. He had never once hesitated, stammered, or mispronounced a syllable. "Uganda! Ukraine! The United Arab Emirates! The United Kingdom! The United States of America!"

I couldn't leap to my feet, but I cheered until I thought my throat was going to go hoarse. I dug a lighter out of my purse and put it up as though we were at a rock concert! In retrospect that was probably not the most appropriate gesture I could have made, but I made it, fierce pride welling up in me.

And there was more, as the Nicolae Carpathia juggernaut sailed on. Over the next half hour he displayed such an intimate knowledge of the United Nations that it was as if he had invented and developed the organization himself. For someone who had never set foot on American soil, let alone visited the United Nations, he displayed amazing understanding of its inner workings.

During his speech he casually worked in the name of every secretary-general from Trygve Lie of Norway to Ngumo and mentioned their terms of office not just by year but also by specific day and date of their installation and conclusion. He displayed awareness and understanding of each of the six principal organs of the U.N.; their functions, their current members, and their particular challenges.

Then he swept through the eighteen U.N. agencies, mentioning every one, its current director, and its headquarters city. This was an amazing display, and suddenly it was no wonder this man had risen so quickly in his own nation, no wonder the previous leader had stepped aside.

I couldn't think of anyone better to lead us through the new and scary future that awaited us. I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to see work with the President more. I wished I could shake his hand, hug him, kiss him, hold him on my own shoulders and fly around with him. I felt hope, looking at him. Hope for the future and the world, hope that washed away some of my grief, some of my pain.

I was very glad that I had come.

Author's Note: So here I come back to this project again! I know its taking forever, but I'm still committed to finishing. Everything in italics is NOT my work. Everything in italics is pretty much verbatum from Left Behind itself. I'm trying to intersect the histories of the turtles into this world very smoothly, which means whenever one of the characters would or could be present to witness a pivotal event from the book, I need to work that in. The U.N. speech wouldn't have changed much, no matter who saw it, so I took out those pieces whole cloth. Hopefully LeHaye and Jenkins will forgive me and take their credit rightly.