Chemtrail Conspiracy

It was not a secret government agency. But today’s meeting was top secret. 

“HASP is quite sensitive,” the Colonel explained, “If the truth ever got out…”

“But Colonel,” interrupted Faraday, “Chemtrails are all over the internet. It’s a bit late for hush-hush!” It was true: almost from its inception, the High Altitude Spraying Program had been exposed.

The Colonel had no use for academics, but Faraday had been appointed by the President himself.  Slowly the Colonel turned toward Faraday with a scornful smile: “Yes, a bunch of conspiracy nuts are posting youtubes, and they even have photos of the planes. But no one knows what we are spraying, or why.” 

Unable to contain herself any longer, Sarah ejaculated: “Well, what are we spraying?”

“That is TOP SECRET,” responded the Colonel with that calm assurance of his. 

“But we all have full clearance!” There was an edge in her voice. 

“Yes,” said the Colonel, with his eyes on Faraday, “all of us have clearance. And each of you has a role… an important role. An indispensable role. For example, you, Sarah: public relations.” Sarah hated the assignment she had been given: To discredit honest people, using paid operatives to keep the rest of the population ignorant. But ignorant of what? She did not know. All she knew was that high-flying airplanes had been spraying something into the atmosphere, often over high-population centers. 

“Well, since we all have clearance,” interjected Faraday, “then why don’t you tell us what this is all about? What are those planes doing? And while you’re at it, why don’t you explain what I am doing here?” 

“You are here,” said the Colonel, ”because we need your expertise.”

“But I know nothing about aviation.”

“Not aviation,” the Colonel restrained his impulse to add “stupid.” If there were one thing that he was good at, the Colonel knew how to maintain an even demeanor no matter how frustrating it could be to deal with an idiot. “We need you to help us formulate the most effective possible sprays.”

“But I’m not a chemist,” Faraday objected. There is no relation between my field, and what you are doing.”

“More than you might think,” replied the Colonel.

After that, there was a long silence. No one seemed able to think of anything else to say. The Colonel looked, one by one, at each member of the group. It was a penetrating gaze. Then his eyes fixed on Hillary Rove, the one person who had not yet spoken.

“Hillary, are you ready with your report?”

“O’Boy!” thought Faraday. “Here comes the Powerpoint.”

Hillary turned down the lights, flicked on the projector, and began her presentation, complete with a laser pointer. The first image appeared. It looked like an arial view of a town, mostly 2 story peaked roofs, punctuated by church spires. There was a river and railroad tracks in the foreground.

“This photo,” said Hillary, “was taken from the opposite side of the river where a mountain overlooks this small Vermont town. The town is called Rattlebrain.” 

Sarah fidgeted. She did not know why, but there was something about this that she did not like.

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Faraday. The Colonel scowled, displeased at the impertinence of Faraday’s interruption. Oblivious, Faraday continued: “I’ve heard of Rattlebrain. They have a citizen journalism website there, iRattlebrain.com. In fact chem… I mean contrails have been a big topic there.” 

“Yes, we know that,” acknowledged Hillary. “Rattlebrain is our… our…” she seemed to grasp for the right word. “Rattlebrain is our caldron. Er, I mean it is sort of a test tube.” 

“A test tube?!!” Sarah could not contain herself.

“Well, maybe not ‘test tube,’” Hillary replied. “Maybe experimental specimen would be a better way to describe it.” 

“What in hell are you doing in Rattlebrain?” demanded Faraday.

“Cool down,” ordered the Colonel. “A bit of dispassion is in order. For a so-called scientist, Faraday, your lack of objectivity is, frankly, unbecoming.” For a second, Faraday considered refusing to have anything more to do with this project. But immediately he remembered Vince Foster, and thought better of it. 

“Okay, go on,” said Faraday. And turning toward Sarah, he said calmly, “Let’s listen.” 

“Then I will continue,” said Hillary. 

“Our paid provocateur — and I use the word ‘provocateur’ humorously — instigated those discussions.”

The Colonel chuckled. The others looked at him. “I am laughing,” said the Colonel ”at the irony of how cheap it was.” 

“How much did you pay him?” asked Faraday. 

“Very little,” replied the Colonel. “We paid David — that’s his name — by getting a buddy of his to invite him to smoke marijuana reefers. ‘Reefers,’” explained the Colonel, “is the cool name for marijuana cigarettes.” The Colonel beamed, pleased with himself. 

“While smoking the reefers, his friend (who was actually one of our agents) showed him some youtubes, actually of contrails but supposedly chemtrails. Our agent got David worked up, and gave David some fat reefers to take home. That was enough: David got home and hit the keyboard hard. He is a hard-hitter.

“And the rest — well, the rest is history unfolding.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Sarah. She was calm now. She really wanted to understand. 

“Well,” said Hillary, “That’s where Faraday comes in.” 

Faraday objected, “But what could I possibly have to do with chemtrails? My field is natural medicine.”

The Colonel grinned… really grinned hard. “Homeopathy?” 

“Yes, Homeopathy is my specialty. What does that have to do with HASP… with  the High Altitude Spraying Program?”  

Hillary Rove had seemed vaguely familiar to Faraday, but he had not been able to place her. Now it came to him: “Wait a minute, Hillary Rove, you are a prominent sociologist, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” 

Sarah had been listening intently. Now she spoke: “I read an interview with you in the NY Times Magazine a few months ago. You had this theory that in every town and city a particular character type emerges, and even pathologies.”

“That’s right,” confirmed Hillary. But we are taking that further. The HASP Program is all about treating communities for their unique, emergent pathologies. And Rattlebrain is a perfect subject: it’s pathologies are so pronounced. If we can successfully treat Rattlebrain, then we can treat any community.”

The Colonel cut in: “So far, the HASP Program has simply been spraying water.”

“But why?” demanded Faraday, “What sense does that make?

“To test the technology, and to get people used to seeing the trails and ignoring them.”

“Well what does that have to do with treating Rattlebrain” demanded Sarah.

Before the Colonel could respond, the sociologist did: “With the help of Faraday, we will formulate homeopathic sprays, to spread over the population from above.”

“Technologically,” added the Colonel, “it is not so easy. We need to spray large quantities of homeopathics sufficient to cover huge areas: huge quantities, yet dilute. Precise calibration is essential.”

He then he turned toward Hillary, who said: “We will treat Rattlebrain with Arsenicum Album.”

Everyone turned toward Faraday, and waited. A look of puzzlement clouded Faraday’s face. Gradually the clouds dispersed, replaced by clarity. 

“Arsenicum Album!” said Faraday.“Yes, that is a Constitutional Remedy. The Arsenicum Album Personality is anxious and fearful, often exhibiting digestive disorders, possessing a thin body frame. These types possess a thin body frame with delicate features; weakness in heart, skin, liver, stomach. They like sweet and sour foods, fatty foods, coffee and alcohol, fear poverty, darkness and food poisoning. And they are perfectionists with intolerance for differing opinions.”

“Yes, you’ve nailed it!” exclaimed Hillary, for the first time excited. “We need to start the flyovers as soon as possible!”