Copyright Feb 2005
Sitting alone cross-legged and insulated from the cold ground by the sleeping pad, he stared at the sputtering flames. The fire was his comfort, his panacea for the cold shelter, mesmerizing and calming him. The logs were not as seasoned as he would have liked, as steaming and hissing fluids dripped out of the cut ends.
Moving over to the cook pot and taking another helping of the well cooked soft red beans and seasoned venison, Gary slowly chewed and swallowed his dinner.
The months had passed by excruciatingly slow; each winter day seemed to drag on until the pain of being awake was replaced by the terrors of his fitful sleep.
Finishing his simple meal, he went into the rear of the shelter and began to wash his plate. It was the seemingly insignificant daily tasks that hit him like a brick, and then the self-flagellation began ‘I should have been a better husband to Cathi and a better father to Ruthi.’ This triggered another agonizing evening; spiraling downward to the emotional finish. The end result always the same…face down, crying and begging for their forgiveness.
Two more logs went in the flames, this would be the final fire of the evening and this fuel was seasoned, giving off enough heat throughout the frigid night to keep him alive until morning. Gary watched the flames as he mindlessly spun the gold wedding band on his finger, pondering what he would be shown tonight.
The nightly visions could be construed to be either a blessing or a curse. After all, it was one thing to know the how and why of it all and yet another to be ineffectual in doing anything about it.
Gary lay down on the deep blue sleeping bag, and covered himself. Slowly from within his broken spirit he whimpered his pain to his wife and daughter, and then drifted off to sleep.
The twin solid mahogany doors of the conference room opened with silent announcement that the meeting was adjourned. The luxurious and historical Grand Hotel Wien in Vienna was the gathering for the ‘Petro-Elite’. The spokesman for this group’s powerful majority smiled and walked slowly to the outstretched microphones of the news hungry media. The Saudi Arabian Oil Ministry Press Secretary paused for a moment before speaking.
“Good afternoon” Pausing briefly, the impeccably dressed spokesman continued. “We have reached agreement on ‘near future’ production. As it stands now, prices are about eighty dollars per barrel. We will increase our production by approximately two percent; this should have a very positive effect on world prices and availability.” With that said the OPEC spokesman turned and walked towards his Oil Minster who was surrounded by the ever-present body guards.
This particular meeting was especially important as world oil prices had begun another surge upward, putting a huge strain on the economies of the most powerful nations on earth. Competition of those countries and their growing economies for precious oil resources forced prices to higher and higher levels. Saudi Arabia’s increase in production would stabilize the situation and drive down prices. This was excellent news to the oil consuming world.
Power in the world can be categorized as, the have’s and the have not’s. The haves are the oil producing nations and the countries that control enormous armies and economies. Everyone else falls into the have not’s. OPEC also has their have’s and have not’s. The alliance is thinly held together and dominated by the Saudi’s who could out produce the others, thereby dictating the supply and price.
A small group of the have not’s gathered off to the side of the meeting room. Although fabulously wealthy in their own right, this group wanted more of the power and control over their production pricing.
“I am not pleased with this meeting, at all. Again the Saudis have sided up to the United States and are not allowing the market to dictate price.” Venezuela’s Oil Minister, Alberto Santos was particularly angry. Venezuela had been at odds with the United States ever since their recent election of President Martinez. The newly elected socialist President and ruler of this oil rich nation, demanded respect through whatever means necessary.
“Yes, I am in complete agreement with you Alberto. Our country is also tired of America’s control of our financial destiny.” Nigeria’s Oil Minster, Abrahim Ahzir, was a man on the hot seat. Meeting with his Finance Minster and President recently he was told in no uncertain terms that oil production and profits had to increase, or else he would be replaced.
Standing close by and listening intently and nodding with agreement were the Libyan coequals. At the other side of the room, the Iranian contingent observed the gathering and walked over to join in the conversation. To an outsider, this group looked like any other business meeting with multi-national players. Knowing the dress code of the various nations present made it easy to discern who was who. The Nigerians with their multi colored full length robes and round cake pan style hats, the Libyans and their white floor length robes, although tailored by London’s finest. The Iranians wore their charcoal gray business suits and white tie-less button down shirts and finally the only non-Muslim in the group, the South American in his custom tailored Saville Row pinstripe suit. To an outside observer this was a group photo of wealth and power.
Greeting the group warmly, the Iranian Oil Minister, Mohammed Mahzari spoke.
“Gentlemen, I would like to invite you to our Embassy for dinner this evening, we have much to discuss.”
The group accepted the invitation of the Iranian, who many consider to be the de facto leader of the “have not’s” in OPEC.
Later that evening, the invitees arrived at the Iranian Embassy in vehicles that matched the image of their status. Gloss black Mercedes Benz’s and Bentley’s, all fully armored and filled with personal body guards pulled through the front gates and up to the door. They were escorted into the Embassy’s ostentatious meeting room. The well dressed Iranian in-house staff valet parked their vehicles as the body guards made small talk and took their positions outside of the impressively well adorned meeting room.
Dinner was served and the men ate, complimenting the chef who expertly prepared lamb and the various side dishes. After the meal, Mahzari directed the conversation. “Gentlemen, I would like to show you something, please follow me”. Mahzari got up and walked down the oversized hallway which was lined with a collection of antique armaments used throughout history.
“Fascinating collection, Mohammed.” Alberto Santos was genuinely impressed, as were the others.
“Thank you; there is much history and beauty in this weaponry.” The Iranian lifted off of the wall a sheathed antique small sword. Removing the sword from its sheath, he held it out to the group. “This Roman short sword for example is from the time of the Prophet Jesus. No doubt many Jews blood was spilled with it.” Mahzari smiled then led the group into a large room that resemble nothing like their previous surroundings. This room was lined with gray angular rubber foam and carbon fiber sound insulation material. In the center of the room was smaller fully enclosed room that resembled a cargo shipping container. This containment room was a sound proof safe room. Opening the door and stepping inside, the group sat in the plastic resin chairs.
“My apologies for the furniture. It seems that plastic is best for eliminating any eavesdropping. My friends, I am as upset about the Saudi production increase as you are. We feel that all of our products should be in the two hundred dollar per barrel price range, or higher.” Mahzari paused for agreement, which he received.
“If we could convince the Saudis to reduce their production, then we would have this price.” said the Nigerian, who thought of the enormous profits that two hundred dollars per barrel would generate.
Santos interjected “The Saudis are being controlled by the Americans. The Americans dictate what they want and threaten to take over the oil fields if they don’t get it. You’ve seen what they have done with Iraq. It won’t be long before they have uninterrupted oil flow from them and that will drive pricing down even further. We must find a way to deal with this.” The Venezuelan’s anger was increasing
“We need to do two things.” The Libyan, Ali Sayed, finally spoke “First, we need to get the Americans out of Iraq and secondly we need to slow down Saudi production.” Ali Sayed was no stranger to the methods he was suggesting having spent years building Libya’s underground terror network, which was blessed by his President.
As a good lawyer would never ask a question in which he didn’t already know the answer, Mahzari had the group exactly where he wanted them. “I want to share with you all what is taking place right now, even as we speak. We are making a proposal to the Americans for peace in Iraq. We are doing this through UN Secretary General Santana.”
“The UN! They are worthless bastards!” The Nigerian voice rose as he had seen first hand the ineffectiveness of the United Nations in Africa.
Mahzari held his hands up “Hold on for a moment, please. We are withdrawing all of our funding and weapon supplies to the Mujahideen Freedom Fighters in Iraq, and we are calling for them to leave the country. When this is accomplished and the Americans are lulled into a sleep, we will make our move.” Mahzari spoke with confidence. “When the Americans leave Iraq, we will shut down the Saudi’s production and you will have all the fortune and power you have ever dreamed of. We must be united amongst ourselves on this.”
The group mumbled amongst themselves; then accepted the Iranians statement unanimously.
“Madame President, UN Secretary General Francisco Santana is here for your appointment.” The presidential aide spoke an introduction, avoiding direct eye contact with US President Lydia Chase.
President Chase gracefully rose from her chair, standing behind the expansive desk in the West Wing of the Oval office, she offered her hand to the Secretary General. Forcing a smile, she mentally regrouped and said confidently “Good afternoon Secretary General Santana. Please have a seat.” The two sat in unison. The TV image of this President and her persona differed significantly. The broadcast image the President projected; came across as warm and caring. However, in person there was a cold businesslike and chilling aura that surrounded her.
“Madame President, it is very good to see you again. I thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to meet with me on such short notice.” The Secretary General knew that this President liked to be treated and admired as if she were royalty. “Again congratulations on your election victory, and I hope that the transition of your administration will be a smooth one.”
“Thank you Secretary General Santana.” President Chase relished the power of being courted by people, especially powerful people, and the UN Secretary General was a very powerful man. “So, Secretary General Santana, what do I owe this honor of your visit today?”
“Madame President, I know that you are being pulled along by the previous administrations military’s advisors, in regards to Iraq. It must be a grave burden on your economy, and your plans for this countries recovery. What do I tell the World Council that you are proposing to resolve this conflict?”
President Chase, who made no effort to hide her distaste for anything military, visibly reddened at the thought of her military advisors and of Iraq. “This Iraq business is certainly hindering the progress of our programs. The Pentagon says that we are well on the way to winning this war…” Pausing, she continued “…however, every day that an American dies there, I am hounded by the press and the statistics of over the five thousand soldiers killed and the billions of dollars spent.”
“Madam President, I have spoken with some of the leaders in the Middle East. It is my understanding that the insurgency is gearing up for a longer and tougher fight than what you have seen so far. I have also spoken with some of the other world leaders, who like you, want this Iraq occupation to be over. There is a great opportunity here for world wide recognition if you can accomplish this.” UN Secretary General Santana waited for his prepared comments to register with the President.
The President did not want to hear that the war could drag on. A long drawn out war would destroy her popularity ratings; after all it was the drop in popularity ratings that took down the last President and swept both the House and Senate. “Tell me General Santana, what do you have in mind?” Santana’s use of the word ‘opportunity’ intrigued the President.
I think there is an opportunity for a win-win situation here. I will recommend to the Insurgents that we have a Cease-Fire…with your assurance that the US military will participate in the Cease-Fire. If we can agree to a Cease-Fire, then there is no reason why we cannot take it further…step by step…to a complete withdrawal of US Forces from the Middle East. I will also recommend to the Security Council that we place UN Islamic troops as Peace-Keepers on Islamic soil.”
“General, do you think you can get the Insurgents to agree to a Cease-Fire agreement?”
“Madame President, I have met with the leaders of Iran, Syria, Russia and the Chinese. The groundwork for such an agreement is ready to be discussed.” Santana spoke confidently.
”I need assurance that we will have the oil supplies necessary for our country.” President Chase countered
General Santana smiled and nodded “Madame President, I think you have made the right choice. I will insist that you have the oil your country needs. As you well know, there are other nations whose growth also depends on continued and uninterrupted oil supplies. There will be a premium for this guarantee, however your oil supplies will continue.
President Chase understood the offer, higher prices…but a continuing supply. The political fallout of ‘managed’ high fuel prices albeit with continued supplies, weighed against the prospect of ‘unmanaged’ fuel shortages with roller coaster prices, played out in her mind. The media would go along….but would the population?
“Before we commit to anything General, I would need to know specifics.”
“Very well Madame President, I’ll have some figures for you shortly…May I also add that it is a good thing to have the United States participating in the World Community again.” General Santana smiled then rose from his seat as did the President. They shook hands in agreement. “President Chase, I will call you after I’ve spoken with the others about our conversation.”
UN Secretary General Santana left the White House and was escorted to Andrews Air Force Base to begin his flight back to Madrid, his home. Once airborne in the white UN registered Tupolev airliner, he phoned Mohammed Mahzari on a secure satellite cell phone. “Mohammed, this is Francisco. We have agreement on a Cease-Fire. What would be the earliest you can implement this from your end?”
“I will need at least 72 hours.”
“Very good. I will phone the President about this good news. I also need to have a statement from you, to the effect that the United States will receive uninterrupted oil shipments as a reward for this agreement.”
“We can do that….however, there can be no guarantee that pricing and supply will remain constant after the withdrawal.” Mahzari said
“I understand, however, we don’t need to bring this up.” Santana commented as he folded the cell phone, severing the connection.
Bolting upright and opening his eyes to almost total darkness, he felt for his left wrist and pressed the stem on the inexpensive yet reliable watch. The luminescent green dial glowed and silently announced three ten A.M. Exhaling a deep sigh, he relaxed a bit. The dreams were coming regularly, and all were equally disturbing. The first visions didn’t make much sense as he thought that they were just meaningless nightmares. However as each had connected and built upon the previous vision, he realized that he was, for some unknown reason, being gifted with a view that he couldn’t explain.
Gary looked over at the glowing red embers of the fire he had lit earlier before falling off to sleep. The glowing and silent red coals mesmerized him and soothed his questioning mind. Unzipping the sleeping bag and half rolling over to the small firewood stash he set out each night, he placed a couple pieces on the embers. The dried bark crackled and smoked as they heated to the point of flame. Lying back on his makeshift bed of layered cedar boughs, he shifted around to find a comfortable spot and stared at the dark ceiling. The fire started small as the light it gave off danced around the dull gray and white granite cave he had called home through the worst of the winter season.
In the increasing light, every breath was visible as the warmth of his body collided with the cool dry winter cold air in the cave. Gary’s mind asked and then answered questions. “I’ve been here for what, four months now? Spring should be coming soon. How long have I been running and fighting? Three years, I think. When will it ever be over?” No answer came on the last question.
The fires dancing flames emitted a warm flickering glow across the dusky walls and ceiling, the heat worked magic on his body and mind as he drifted back to sleep.
He was again whisked to another location, his own living room. Standing in front of Gary was Ruthie, his precious bundle of energy. “Daddy, look at me! Look at me Daddy!” The little girl pranced in front of Gary, in between him and the TV set.
“Ruthie, you have to be the fastest girl I’ve ever seen.” Gary said as he moved his head around to see the TV while his daughter sought his attention.
“Daddy, read me a story, pleeeaaassseee!”
Taking a deep breath and releasing it with an audible sigh, Gary knew that he would not be able to watch TV tonight. “Sure, Honey. What do you want to read?”
“Clifford the Big Red Dog” Ruthie had three books already picked out, with Clifford at the top, middle and bottom of the stack. As she climbed onto his lap; he could smell her freshly washed hair and feel the smoothness of her pink polka dotted flannel pajamas. Ruthie could be any parents complete delight, however having been blessed to have this child late in his life was a total joy for both mother and father.
Ruthie turned to her father, and hugged him tightly around the neck. Looking up and directly into Gary’s eyes she said “Daddy, why did they have to kill me and Mommy?”
Gliding silently over the vast expansive desert and absorbing every sight and sound was sheer ecstasy. The freedom to be unchained from the earth and soaring was unlike any other. Moving across a vast stretch of water dotted with large ships heading in the opposite direction of where he was flying. Some of the ships were heavily laden oil super tankers, which rode very low in the water while others looked to be Navy transports carrying military hardware and men. The over water flight turned heading towards the shore. Monstrous oil tankers, riding high at their anchorages were being filled with enormous quantities of crude oil from long pipelines which stretched across the water. The inland flight, followed a long overland pipeline away from the shipping terminal and towards a massive complex of white concrete buildings and stainless steel machinery.
The Ghawar oil fields contain the world’s largest known oil reserves. It is from these fields that the Saudi Kingdom pumps enough petroleum to stabilize the fluctuating oil prices of OPEC. It is a vast nomadic desolate region interrupted only by miles of pipelines and pumps, which extended twenty four miles towards the Persian Gulf.
The dusty black Mercedes Benz pulled into the complex and up to the Guard Post. “Good evening, sir. ID please” The security guard had also worked at this complex for as long as Ishmael. In the past they had spoken on numerous occasions, small talk mainly about family and cricket matches. After giving Ishmael’s ID a quick glance, he waved him through.
“Good evening, Tariq.” Ishmael said, rolling up the window of the air conditioned vehicle and continuing on towards the Control Center.
Ishmael Bakht has worked in this complex for almost seven years. Being employed by Aramco the Saudi Oil Corporation as an engineer certainly brought its share of challenges and rewards. Rewards in the form of a very handsome tax free salary and the challenges of keeping four million five hundred thousand barrels of light sweet crude continuously flowing towards the Gulf were stimulating. At the same time the crude was going out, sea water from the Gulf was pumped back towards the field and into the ground, refilling the void of the extracted crude.
Parking his car and walking into the complex, Ishmael carried with him his briefcase and his portable short-wave radio. The radio gave him great pleasure as he was able to listen to the various broadcasts from the Mid-Eastern countries each night. His radio also broadcast the messages and teachings of the fundamentalists Imams. Ishmael listened for three years, gradually becoming intransigent in belief and fully buying in to the message that all of the world would be subject to Allah’s rule, carried out by Allah’s warriors. Ishmael had become such a warrior. Their overall objective had no downside; victory on one front assured another battle and another front, while death earned you the reward of spending eternity with virgins…seventy two of them.
Tonight Ishmael’s mission was threefold. One: Shut off the alarms to allow the Mujahideen Freedom Fighters into the complex undetected. Two: Turn off the water pumps, and opening the pressure release valves that would spill vast quantities of oil onto the ground. Three: Set the explosives which were secreted in his radio to destroy the computerized controls for the pumps and switches. Once his mission was accomplished he would attempt to make his escape to Afghanistan and train for another battle…another front.
Four groups of ten saboteurs came from opposing directions. Their goals were the same, plant and detonate the ten pounds of Semtex plastique explosives that each man carried on any of the pumps and pipes to cause the highest degree of carnage. The time for the attack was to begin at midnight.
Eleven fifty five P.M, Ishmael set his radio next to the main frame computer where he processed and monitored the daily production readings. The main computer room was a state of the art facility, with both primary and back up systems. In the event both systems failed, oil would slow to a trickle and then stop completely. Ishmael began electronically turning off the pumps and opening the release valves, as obnoxious digital alarms sounded in the control room and through out the complex. The short-wave radio was reconfigured as a two pound Semtex bomb and was engineered to for a thirty minute delay, giving plenty of time to effect his escape. A loud metal on metal banging from the locked security door interrupted the intended plan. Security Guards were attempting to breach the interior. Ishmael took the radio and pressed a button on the side, bypassing the delayed timer, the radio instantly and thunderously detonated, destroying all of the computers and splattering Ishmael onto the walls.
Within 15 minutes the entire operation of The Ghawar Oil Field was shut down, as explosions boomed across the vast desert igniting the oil that spilled out of the severed pipes and opened valves. The light sweet crude oil burned uncontrollably all along the twenty four miles of pipeline and without the water piped in from the Gulf, the oil fueled hellish fires would take weeks if not months to extinguish.
Gary tossed and turned in his sleeping bag while he subconsciously agonized over the fires and the searing sooty coal black smoke of the oil fields. In his once marvelous dream which turned nightmarish, he could actually smell the stench of the oil fires and feel the grime on his face. Again he was whisked away; although this time he hovered over a busy city street in some large city. Descending towards the street with the noise of cars and people he caught a glimpse of a stack of newspapers which were bundled and awaiting distribution. Looking closer at the front page he read:
Oil Prices $150 per Barrel
Gas $6.00 per Gallon
President Chase Considers Rationing
National Guard Units Called Up To Quell Riots
Stock Market Crashes on Oil News
GOP Blames President Chase
“Madame President, the UN Secretary General is on the line.” The unemotional female voice announced through the telephones speaker.
Reaching over and pushing the blinking red light of the waiting call. “General Santana, you told me that we could have all of the oil we would need! Now I’ve got real panic over here.” President Chase was obviously angry and nervous, tapping her short manicured fingernails on the desk top as she spoke. The reforms her administration had presented to Congress stonewalled in committee and now the oil crisis was threatening to rip apart the entire economic fabric of the United States.
“Madame President, the terrorist incident at Ghawar was most unfortunate. However, the Saudis tell me that they should be up and running in about six months or so.”
“Six months! I don’t have six months! I need action and need it yesterday!” President Chase shouted into the black handled phone, she was incredulous that something like this would road block her vision for the United States.
“Madame President, I will be in Washington tomorrow. Maybe there is something that we can do for you. What time would be best for us to meet?”
President Chase paused momentarily and glanced at her desktop planner “We have an Advisor and Staff meeting at seven A.M.”
“Seven A.M. is fine…I’ll see you then, President Chase.”
Lydia Chase stood up cursing after slamming the phone in its receiver. Turning to gaze out of the window at the manicured lawn of the White House, rage built inside her, stemming from the realization that she was no longer in control.
The next morning, the White House Staff meeting and breakfast was very tense as all of the President’s staff anxiously waited for their briefing.
The President entered the conference room ten minutes late, as usual. Breezing her way to the head of the large rectangular table which was laid out with breakfast, she calmly stated. “I think that everyone knows UN Secretary General Santana.” President Chase’s habit of immediately starting the day’s business without any greeting was slightly insulting to the UN General Secretary, as Europeans habitually relaxed, even in crisis, before jumping in to the day’s business. “General Santana is going to tell us how the United Nations can help us through this.” President Chase calmly gave Santana a nod for him to speak about his proposal.
“Good morning everyone. I know that you are going through a very difficult time now.” The General paused and continued “This is a time of grave challenges and a time of great opportunities. I have spoken to the world member nations and they are all showing their support for you and your administration, Madame President.”
President Chase nodded at the acknowledgement from other members of the World Community.
General Santana continued. “We are all sending a portion of our own oil supplies to help you through this crisis…” Santana paused momentarily
The staff and President smiled at the comment as a collective sigh of relief exhaled from everyone.
“…However, a nominal fee amounting to five per cent will be added to each barrel that you receive. You will have as much oil as you need.”
“We are being taxed?!!” The President interjected loudly
The General smiled “Yes Maam, you are. You are paying a slightly higher price than everyone else on this planet, but you will have all the supplies your country and your administration needs…just as you asked.” The General paused as President Chase reluctantly nodded her acceptance. The General continued “Now, that being said and please don’t take this as an accusation or condemnation, but as an opportunity to lead this great nation back to the prominence you rightly deserve...” The UN Leader paused allowing his words to have their desired effect. “…There are many areas where this country wastes a substantial amount of resources. Resources that if economized on and capitalized on would greatly improve your countries fiscal condition. I would like to share with you some ideas that if implemented would make your countries ‘bottom line’ so to speak, the envy of the entire world.” Secretary General Santana was hitting all the right buttons with the President and her inner circle. “First of all, as a member of the World Community, you have no need to spend the enormous amounts of money that you do on your military and weapons systems. I would think that you could save hundreds of billions of dollars on this alone. Secondly, there are millions of illegal immigrants that walk across your borders each and every year. These undocumented people do not pay taxes, and by using the welfare system are drains on your recovery. Thirdly, your health care infrastructure is being eaten up with run-away costs due to law suits, shootings, drug abuse, inefficient processes and redundant paperwork.” Santana sat down, allowing each person to think about the issues he stirred up. Some of the issues were slightly overstated, but everything was now on the table.
President Chase was the first to speak. “General Santana, now that you have told us what we already know, maybe you’d like to share with us some solutions?”
“Let’s take the first item, your military. Having a strong military is paramount; however, if you focus on the non-human systems you can reduce your man-power tremendously and the costs associated with human personnel while still maintaining your strength…robotics is the future of the military…” Santana paused as the Presidents staff scribbled notes on yellow legal pads “…As for the Second and Third items: Have you heard of the “Encompass Biometric Identification System” that is currently in use in Europe?”
Some of the group nodded yes and some no.
The General explained “’Encompass’ is a computerized system that allows the instant, secure identification, of anyone who uses any Government services.” General Santana pulled out of his pocket a small metal pill box. All eyes were on this box which was opened, revealing a tiny piece of plastic the size of a grain of rice, which he passed around the room. “This is the device that is given to each person. It is securely and painlessly implanted under the skin behind the neck. When a person uses any Government services, their personal identification, which is stored in this chip is used to access their account records, thus eliminating all paper work and guaranteeing positive identification. The incidents of Immigration fraud and the resulting tax evasions have been reduced by approximately ninety five percent. A person can also have all of their credit cards and monies accessed directly through this system. Retailers simply have the person walk up with their merchandise, that person is scanned and the funds are instantly transferred to the Retailers account…” The General paused briefly “…Now, here is the real beauty of it. You receive your taxes instantly…there is no float time between the transaction and the time the Treasury Department receives their funds...”
Staff and advisors alike were silent, knowing that they were approaching a possible scenario of Orwellian magnitude.
The President smiled at the thought of instantly receiving the billions in excess revenue…and the programs which could be created from a positive cash flow.
“…The Encompass System also has other features that will greatly reduce your crime rates…” General Santana again paused for effect and then closed his sale “…Now, if you will join us, the World Community, in the treaties that the rest of us have already accepted and implemented, you can further reduce the amount of monies spend on your Health Care issues. The Treaties I am talking about are the “Land Mine and Small Arms Prohibition Treaty” and “The World Anti-Terrorist Project.”
After the meeting adjourned, the Presidents excitement for the new system spread throughout the room. Giddy with the thoughts of new departments, new legislations and increased revenues. President Chase issued Presidential Executive Orders for the Encompass Biometric Identification System to be enacted as the primary identification system for governmental services and benefits. The staff was assigned the task of identifying the Senators who would bring the World Treaty agreements to a majority vote. The media was brought into the equation and in time, the proposed packages squeaked through the House and Senate.
Implementation of the Encompass Biometric Identification System was now law.