The Commissioner typed in the sequence that would revive the illustrious Illinois legislator.
“1, 2, 0, 2, 1, 8, 0, 9,” he muttered as he pressed the keys. As the machines whirred into life, he frowned and turned to Dynamite.
“Do you think that was too obvious?”
“What was?” asked Dynamite, trying not to be distracted by the electricity surging through the air.
“Using Lincoln’s birthday as the code. I mean, at the time it just seemed easy to remember, but looking back I kinda wish I’d used something less obvious. Like maybe his wife’s birthday, or their marriage date. Or maybe the day he became president or something, I mean, that’s not exactly public knowledge.”
“Sir, with respect…” Dynamite fell to the floor as a hurricane-like force shuddered through the room, the result of a burst of energy generated by lamps with the power of a solar flare.
“Didn’t even have to be a date,” the Commissioner continued, seemingly oblivious. “I mean, really the whole numeric code thing was just something we thought a good idea. Could have been any sequence. Might as well have used Abraham, or Gettysburg.”
“Sir, I really don’t think…” Dynamite had to roll to avoid being swept away, his mind struggling with the physics of it all.
“No, you’re right, that would have been just as obvious. Should have used Henry Ford, he played Lincoln in that film you know. No one would have guessed that.”
“Sir!” Dynamite was now being pushed against the wall, the light’s power so intense as to repel him with the force of 10 elephants, or 20 elephants that weren’t trying as hard.
“Then again, there’s no point being too complex is there? That would be just as bad,” the Commissioner looked over at Dynamite. “Oh get a grip on yourself, man! Haven’t you ever had to stand at the centre of a light explosion before?”
“To be totally honest with you sir…no,” Dynamite admitted. “I mean, how is this even possible? That’s just light, it shouldn’t be able to do that!”
The Commissioner shrugged. “What am I, a scientist? Solar power apparently revives dead people, or so the lab boys tell me. Makes sense, when you think about it.”
“I don’t think it does, sir.”
“Well think about it some more. Why else would we bury dead people underground, where there’s no natural light? So there’s no chance of them popping up again and claiming on the life insurance. Can you imagine what a world that would be? Insurance companies would be bankrupt! And then what would happen if your car got broken into?”
“It’d be a real pickle, sir,”
“Damn right it would. ‘Course, you need a lot of solar power to do it. Especially with a guy that’s really dead.”
“And you’re…absolutely sure…this works…sir?” the G-forces were making it hard for Dynamite to speak.
“Well, we tried it with Kennedy last week, seemed to work then. Little too well, if you know what I mean. He’d sexed up half the women in the facility before we caught up to him. Maybe he was making up for lost time,” the Commissioner laughed. “Get it? Because he’d been dead, and he liked to…oh, you’re unconscious. The hell with you then.”
As suddenly as it had started, the solar beams stopped, leaving the room in partial darkness again. The Commissioner gave Dynamite a kick.
“Wake up!” he hissed. “You’ll want to tell your grandchildren about this. If the solar power didn’t make you sterile, which to be honest, it might have. I didn’t really think to check that out.”
Dynamite got up from the floor and stood next to the Commissioner, as they both saw a sight that only 7 other people had ever seen before. The newly revived corpse of the 16th president rose from the metal table he had been lying on, adjusted his hat and stood before the assembled crowd. No wait, company. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. He spent a good moment or two in some puzzlement, before realising the significance of what had happened.
“Abraham Lincoln…is reborn.”
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