Cat’s Cradle: Warhead

It was a conference call, three separate images appearing in squares on the walls, like portraits without frames. Each image stabilized at a different rate, coming in over different routes, via satellites then through Northern Global’s landlines.

The first caller was an Oriental woman. She was calling from an office. O’Hara could see some of the equipment on her desk at the edge of the image. She said nothing, not even looking up into the phone, continuing to work at something while waiting for the conference circuit to complete.

The second caller was young. Perhaps sixteen. He was dressed in a bathrobe, hair wet from a shower. He greeted O’Hara, combing his hair while he waited for the call to begin.

The third image remained a blank square of mint green. O’Hara couldn’t tell if it was the wall behind the phone or some kind of computer-generated blind. Finally a woman stepped into frame. O’Hara didn’t recognize her.

MR PEGRAM’S PHYSICIAN: Hello, can you hear me?