Plan 36G

When Senator Creshla called me up, I didn't know what to think. I suppose I was a bit nervous when he revealed his plan, but who wouldn't be. Of course, I acted calmly, but I think he saw through my thin veil of confidence. I was just an ordinary citizen; how could I handle information like that? If the senator hadn't had such a warm, grandfatherly voice, I might not have even believed him.
He told me it was simply known as "Plan 36G," whatever that means. I was told to meet him in front of the Lincoln Memorial on Saturday, barely two weeks after he had called me. I was expected to drop everything on my plate and fly out there. I suppose that's just how these things work, but I didn't like it one bit.
I flew out from my sunny home in Tucson and landed in D.C. early that morning. My underlying apprehension transformed into outright fear when I saw those suits approaching me in front of the statue. Huge, bulky men with shoulders the size of an ox marched toward me. Their death black sunglasses and deep, monotonous voices stripped any human characteristics from them. I timidly followed their lead into a limousine, praying that this was a mistake. Yes, just one, big, horrible mistake. I was the wrong man for the job, clearly. How could I be the only one to see it?
We quickly swept past the polished center of town into a decrepit slum. I was visibly sweating at this point, but I didn't dare say a word about it. They wouldn't understand my fear. They were probably used to this high profile, black limo business, but me? I should've been watching Jerry Springer or watering my plants. Meeting one of the most powerful senators in the country in a dangerous slum to talk about a secret plan should not have been in my schedule.
After what seemed like hours we arrived in front of a small shed. The windows were busted and all the plants were dead. The street was empty and the only sound was distant sirens. One of the men turned to me and grunted, "Don't try anything funny." As if I had the gall! I wouldn't have been able run if they wanted me to. I gingerly walked across the yard in between them, trying desperately not to let my nerves get the better of me. We entered the shed and there he stood: Senator Creshla in all his senatorial glory.
"H-Hello, Senator," I sputtered out. "Nice to, um, finally meet you."
"Have a seat, Nathan." His voice reverberated off the jagged walls, and I immediately sat down on the dusty chair before him. I could see the black suits standing in the shadows out of the corner of my eye, terrifying me without any action at all.
"Plan 36G," he said quietly. The words sounded so grave. I felt a shiver run down my spine. "You know we need your help."
"But why me?" I nearly shouted, my pent up exasperation leaping out of my mouth before I had time to retract it.
"Nathan, we have discussed this thoroughly. Now is not the time for this juvenile banter. The time is upon us! Will you face this like a man or cower like a dog?" His aged wrinkles turned to a scowl and a sharp sting augmented his voice. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. This was all too much for me. Nathan Lockely, was not built for this kind of stress. No, Nathan Lockely was built for modest wages and quiet Sundays. This was all wrong. "So will you help us, Nathan? I don't have to remind you of the ramifications if you refuse." The words shook me out of my reverie. I felt a twist in my stomach as I quietly mouthed "yes."
Yes. I had just said yes to Plan 36G. The plan that would change it all. The ominous fear that had been shrouding this great country for so long was about to be abolished with a single blow. Midgets would finally be bred out of existence. The world would never be the same.

Part II to follow