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The happiest day of Reid Randle’s life was being promoted to the inner sanctum of The Department.
“Most people look up at the sky and see something completely different than the rest of us.”
He could hear the excitement in Dad’s voice when he told him, Mom sounded like she expected it. I love her confidence in me.
“What we see here is control, ultimate control.”
Barely out the door with his MIT diploma tucked under his arm, Dad was eagerly met by the U.S. Military with an offer he couldn’t refuse - free tuition, plus room and board at Stanford’s acclaimed program in Atmospheric Processes, with a detailed focus on aerosols, clouds, wind propulsion, atmospheric chemistry, and theoretical physics.
“This my fellow Patriots, for lack of any bull, is the final say on everything.”
Reid followed Dad’s blazing-trail proudly... his alma-mater, and now The Department.
“Let them think we’re just dumb-ass weathermen.”
Without question the American Military's Atmospheric and Oceanic Science Department has grown plenty since back in Dad's day.
“We need to stay under the radar. Everyone here needs to understand that!”
“Reid? Reid?”... I hang up on Ed because of what I’m seeing on the screen. Contemplating the staggering loss of life from a country whose land is now 25% under water... 800,000 square kilometers to be exact, plugging into my laptop. “Holy shit... this could affect close to 20 million people”, my insides shriek.
The only problem for Reid was he had been sworn to secrecy.
All the models were telling him this was to be a storm of biblical proportions.
Randle secrecy.

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