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The plane moved fast. Very fast, and the distance from the scientific compound to Moscow was not that long. Vladimir didn't have much time to plan a speech, and the news from the TV took up even more of his time. It wasn't an Soviet channel of course, they were too slow in providing the important news. It was CNN, all of the high-leaders in the Soviet Union who could understand English looked at the channel, and it could be received at most governmental planes and important compounds. He was not an important enough party member to be able to see it regularly, but this plane had the equipment to see it, and no-one was here to stop him.
The channel showed what was happening in the world, and it didn't take long for him to understand the magnitude of what was happening. There was no news from Africa, South America or the Soviet Union, but that was because they were either not interesting enough or that there was no free press. It was happening all over the world.
The people were doing magic, what was the correct verb he wondered, all over the world. Most did some damage, like he had, but, just like him, it was mostly minor damage. It should be, the TV didn't show. Some had done major damage. One person had broken the Golden-Gate Bridge in San Francisco in two, and another one in West Germany had begun killing people like a maniac. The report said that the man had screamed something about how he hated the world, and the world hated him. The man was gone now, but the bloody bodies in the street remained. And the cameraman did seem to like the zoom option. But considering how much they were switching between those two, they were the only major happenings. It was not all bad however. The reporters showed some miraculous savings, healings, and some things had been repaired even, all using magic. Somehow Vladimir didn't think magic was the correct word for this. He felt like there should be some other word. It was not that it wasn't magic, that it was, just that there should be another name to it.
After watching CNN dumbfounded for an hour or two, before he could start planning what he would say to the honourable members of the politburo, the plane started moving in for landing. The captain said in the speakers that he should fasten his seatbelt now. When they were going to take of he had searched like a madman to find the belt, as it was hidden under the leather seat somehow.
The landing only took minutes. Vladimir though that the politburo was in panic over what was happening, and wanted anyone with any information come to them within minutes. And while sitting in the back seat of the black Volga, happy he had found his seatbelt faster this time, his belief did only strengthen itself even more.
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