Read Online The Serene Invasion by Eric Brown - Free Book Online Page A

flashed onto the screen. “Sir, I think you should take a look through the window.”
    “So I’m not hallucinating, Lal. What in God’s name is going on?”
    “I... I don’t know, sir. It happened around thirty minutes ago. I tried to summon you.” Lal hesitated. “There have been other... ah, developments.”
    “Go on.”
    “I think it would be best if I were to show you, sir.”
    Morwell was in a mood to humour his facilitator. “Very well, Lal. We have a little time before the think-tank cranks in to action.”
    “I think they’ll have a lot to talk about,” Lal said cryptically. “I’m on my way.”
    While Lal took the elevator up from the seventy-fifth floor, Morwell turned to the window and stared out. He could see, in the distance, the great convex arc of the bell-jar sweeping out over Long Island, and in the other direction over New Jersey... So what was it? Some vast and ingenious prank? A fabulous and daring work of improvisational art? Whatever it was, he reasoned, it was not real... in the sense that it not was a solid, physical thing, but more likely a projection of some kind.
    “Sir.”
    Lal crossed the penthouse office and stood before the desk, his carob-brown eyes ranging over its surface as if in search of something.
    Lal was in his mid-twenties and a direct beneficiary of one of Morwell Enterprises’ humanitarian projects. Morwell funded schools and academies across the world, and from them drew the finest pupils to work in his many companies. Lal had been plucked from the slums of Calcutta at the age of fifteen, educated to a high standard and processed through the Morwell business empire. Five years ago James Morwell had installed Lal as a researcher in one of his newsfeed companies. In three years he’d worked himself up to become its editor, at which point Morwell swooped again and promoted Lal to the role of his PA.
    Now Lal took up Morwell’s stiletto letter opener and slapped his palm with its blade.
    Morwell gestured to the bell-jar. “Any ideas?”
    “I have people working on it, sir. But one thing is for certain – it’s not an illusion, as I first thought. Reports are coming in from Long Island, sir. People are reporting that the dome is solid, a wall that has cut off the entire city of New York. But not only that, sir – the domes have covered all areas of population, no matter how large or small, starting in northern Canada and sweeping the globe. There are reports from every northern continent... every village, town and city is at present under a similar dome to this one. And as I speak, they are appearing over areas to the south of here.”
    Morwell sat down in his swivel chair.
    Not likely, then, to be a daring work of art...
    “You said there have been other developments?”
    “That is right, sir. Observe.” Lal placed his left hand flat on the table top and – before Morwell could stop him – raised the paper-knife and made to bring it down on his palm.
    Morwell winced, then looked up and saw Lal’s oddly comic grimace of effort. The man was shaking.
    “Lal? What the hell...?”
    “I... am trying... sir... to stab... my... hand!”
    “Have you taken leave of your senses? I don’t want blood all over my...”
    Lal lowered the knife. “I cannot do it, sir. That is the thing. It is impossible. Reports from all across the northern hemisphere – acts of violence are no more. Boxing matches have ended in farce, with opponents unable to trade punches. Police report aborted bank raids and gunmen unable to pull the trigger...”
    Morwell’s first impulse was to laugh and accuse Lal of playing a practical joke. He glanced at the calendar, but it was April the 30th, not the first.
    He stood quickly, crossed the room to the gym and slipped inside. He snatched up the baseball bat, strode across to the rubber effigy of James Morwell Snr., and raised the bat.
    He had no trouble at all in beating the figure to hell and back.
    He returned to the office with the bat, and