Nothing

by Arnold East

  The face listened and after 0 finished, its features softened into a slight smile. Its calm voice was in stark contrast to the desperate blubbering of 0. "We understand what's going on in your commune. We see and hear everything, and I can assure you that we are working extremely hard in finding a solution. We expect that we will be able to send military forces to assist you within a single month--"

  "A month! That's too long!"

  "Well it's the best thing we can do. We're trying. So sit tight and help will come."

  Despite 0's protestations, the connection cut out. The person on the other side had left and it was clear that there would be no further discussion.

  0 was at a lost. What was it to do? All it could do was sit and watch. It turned around and tested the knob on the door. It was locked. One month. It had to limit the damage and preserve its own safety as best it could from inside its sanctuary. It resolved to call the central control again in a short time and try to pester them into sending help sooner. 0 was not sure if it could handle a whole month with 514588 continuing to wreak such havoc.

  Unbeknownst to 0, the person on the other end of the line was no ordinary member of the central control. It was the Grand Master himself. It was in the midst of a complex project, and the news it heard from the commune was conducive to a positive result for the work it was undertaking. Of course, help could be sent immediately, but the Grand Master had other plans.

  Chapter Four

  The second part of 541588's plan was the destruction of the grain storage. It reasoned that focusing its attack on a single target, the communes' stock of food, would be the most effective way to cause a significant disruption. With this plan, 541588 wanted to avoid relying on creating a fire to burn the place down. It had worked for its previous mission, but only through some extraordinary luck. Instead, it was hoping to make use of its human resources to seize all the grain in the storage facility and to bury it underground. It was an audacious plan. The storage sheds were massive, and there was enough food inside to last for a whole year. They were designed for the worst case scenario; a harvest completely failing without providing anything, and so there was enough to be relied upon while the next season's harvest was sown, grown and harvested.

  For this new plan 541588 needed a suitable site, large enough so that the hole did not need to be too deep and with the ground composed of soil that was easy enough to dig into. There was nowhere in the close confines of the commune; buildings, roads, all concrete and 541588 was loath to dig up the surrounding farms, burnt as they were, since they might be needed after it took over. 541588 had to venture outside the boundaries of the commune, something it had never tried before.

  It wasn't a physical barrier that kept everyone inside the prescribed area, but a mental one. The outside was never talked about, never taught, never explained. From the edge of the farms, one could see wild grass, rolling plains and perhaps some buildings on the horizon, but to leave, to actually step outside the commune was something no-one ever contemplated, let alone tried. There was no need to explore, no need to leave, no need to find a better world when they lived in utopia itself.

  541588 departed after lunch. It was empty out, even though normally the streets would be busy with activity. In the morning, an announcement had been broadcast throughout the commune telling everyone to stay in their apartments until further notice. It was the same announcement that was always made during extreme weather. But the storms had cleared the previous night; today the sun was shining mildly through benign clouds, and the air was as fresh as it always is after heavy rain. The leader of the commune was panicking.

  541588 walked through the sullied fields, feet crunching through the tangled mess of burnt wheat. It thought the new aesthetic was quite striking; a heavy blanket of black that stretched hundreds of metres across and stopped neatly at the road. It made its way along and soon found that it was out of the commune. The texture of the ground was different. The wheat had been replaced by grass, though besides that, there was no indication that the commune had really ended. The fire was indiscriminate, and the ground was blackened some way into the distance. 541588 looked around, pulled some grass and ran its hand into the dirt. It was perfect; there was enough open space, the soil was consistent and loose, and the grain shed was only five hundred or so metres away. The others would have no trouble digging this place up and transporting the grain into the hole.

  Now it was time to procure some shovels. It was easy from here; they were left unsecured with all the other tools in the warehouse next to the entrance of each field. 541588 carried them three at a time back to its room, four on the last trip, until it had seventy-three of them, one for each of the others. They would start tomorrow.

  It called them all together the next morning to lead them out to the site. They followed it, not enthusiastic, but nothing unusual either, their dull grudging selves. The problems only began when they were halfway across the field and they began to show the signs of their agitation. Perhaps they knew where 541588 was leading them. They slowed as they approached the edge, their movements jarring, unnatural. They weren't walking anymore; it seemed more like they were swimming through mud, pushing their arms forward and dragging themselves through. Metres became centimetres became millimetres. Most eventually stopped. Some outright turned back. Others, coerced by 541588, made it all the way to the boundary. But even these ones could go no further, firmly rooted within the limits of the commune. 541588 tried to push them out, to punish them out, all to no avail. Even when it managed to drag one of them into outside territory, it would go crazy, losing its balance and begin thrashing around on the ground and grappling its head. This would continue until it was brought back into the commune. The BCMs had a function built into them that could incapacitate the brain by interfering with the firing of neurons and the movements of chemicals if it detected that it was outside the commune, and 541588 stood no chance. After a morning of wrestling and chaos, it figured that something was very wrong, and came to a conclusion similar to the reality. Seeing the strange powerful effect on the others as soon as they left the commune, it theorised that there was a deeper conditioning that was not worth the time to attempt to remove. Thus, there necessitated a change in plan. The hole would have to be dug in one of the fields.

  It rounded everyone up again and they marched across the empty roads to the fallow. There, 541588 found a place to sit, ordered them to begin digging and watched on as they commenced their work. Over the afternoon, the fallow was split into two. Half of it was turned upside down, the soil shifted to the other half which grew from a small pile into a large mound that had to be compacted to stop the dirt dribbling back into the hole.

  Throughout the next few days, they continued to work, with 541588 standing by and encouraging them to dig harder. There were few difficulties; the soil was easy, the top layers almost fluid, and the digging, while tedious, was exactly the sort of work they had been trained from youth to do. It took a week until they were finished. Fifteen metres long and wide, three metres deep. 541588 gave them a day of rest, and then began the next part of his plan.

  Chapter Five

  The storage shed was a concrete building, with no entrances or exits, only chutes that led from two ends. Every day, a portion of grain would eject from one of the chutes into a pit, enough for one day's food for everyone in the commune. The chute on the other side was frequented during harvest season, when the loads of grain would be deposited inside. The building was designed to ensure that no-one could accidently disrupt the main supply of food. For any glitches in the mechanics operating the chutes, there was only a tunnel that led from the leader's palace, allowing it to fix any possible problem that could arise. But 541588 was not accidently disrupting the food supply. It was very purposeful, a little desperate. It had spent the day of rest it had given the others scouring the exterior of the buildings for any weakness, any imperfections. The concrete was impenetrable, that was for sure, and it was soon evident that the
only ways inside and out were through the chutes. Those thin metal chutes.

  541588 lay itself down on one of them, its shoulders contorted and almost touching each other, its hips pushed hard against the sides, and tried to pull itself up, feet first into the building. Its legs made it through, bunched together, but once it got to its hips its feet hit an obstruction. It bent its knees, felt for clear air and found none. It twisted, falling out a bit, but managed to turn itself a hundred and eighty degrees. Its reward was its face knocked against the hot metal. But it persisted; the chute was just large enough that it thought it had a chance. It pulled itself back up to where its feet hit the obstruction and bent its knees, feet going upward, and this time, there was nothing in the way. Though its hips still couldn't make it through. It could feel the bone on either side, stuck, a smidgen wider than the opening. It was too small, it could not fit.

  But it couldn't give up.

  They had dug up the field, dug a massive hole. Now it was its turn to do its work. It pushed as hard as it could, felt the pain sear all the way up its waist to its ribs to its tucked shoulders and then it was in, smashing its legs against a sheet of metal, and falling face first into a heap of grain.

  It took a moment to look around and recover. Two beacons of light that came from the chutes provided the illumination, revealing metal pieces, gears, sheets jutting in every direction out of a sea of grain. It was going to take a long time to get it all out. The words "get out" stayed in its mind for longer than it should have and it soon realised that it could not get out itself. The shape of the opening and the metal sheet that stood a metre away from the chute meant that it would need an impossible angle to exit. It could stay inside for now and try to work something out. The others would come tomorrow with their buckets. They had been told to do so. They would help. For now, it would have to wait among the grain through the night.

  They arrived the next morning as it trusted they would, crowding outside the chute, blocking the light. The buckets wouldn't fit inside. It could only scoop the grain onto the chute with its bare hands and hope the others would listen to its shouted commands and carry the grain into the hole. It was slow going from inside the shed and woefully inefficient outside. Most of them were just waiting for something to do. Eventually, 541588 ordered a few of them to lie into the chute and they were pushed inside to help with removing the grain. It was quicker now, with seven of them inside working together, and handful by handful, bucket by bucket, the commune's food supplies disappeared from the storage and filled the hole.

  0 could see the entire operation. From the camera inside the storage, it could see the grain being scooped onto the chute and disappearing outside, while another camera on a nearby apartment showed the others collecting the grain in buckets and carrying them out of sight. It kept following this trail and ultimately found that the operation stopped at the fallow, which it now understood why they dug up, as it watched the precious grain poured into the hole. It wanted to do something, to stop this dreadful business immediately, to cast 541588 away and to fix the commune, but it was unable to muster up the courage to do anything other than watch. The trapdoor at the corner of the room that led to the storehouse beckoned. It could go through and confront 541588. But there were six of them inside with it. It couldn't win. So it did the only thing it could. It called the central control, got no response, and called again and again, while outside, 541588 was doing exactly as it feared and destroying the rest of the food supply.

  For 541588 the next few days were a continuation of the success that it was now accustomed to. By late afternoon on the eighth day, the last of the grain was moved into the hole and buried. Then the problem of getting out returned. They had managed to stay alive during their time inside the ware house by getting the others to bring them food and water. But now the situation was untenable. They could not stay inside the shed forever. At least there were seven of them in there and they could help each other out. Through some trial and error, a technique was soon found that would allow one to escape if they were lifted and pushed head first down the chute by another.

  541588 went out first. One by one the others followed until there was only a one left. It couldn't get out on its own, and they tried for the best part of an hour to help it from the outside to no avail. It was getting late now, and 541588 decided to leave it behind. It promised to itself that it would bring meals to it every day before calling everyone back to their rooms and retreating to its own, looking forward to a night in its own bed.

  541564 was miserable inside the storehouse. It just wanted to go back to its apartment. It had helped 541588 as much as it hated it and it had stayed in the storehouse for eight terrible days already. It tried everything, injured everything trying to get out by itself but it was truly impossible. It would have to remain miserable, alone and trapped.

  Chapter Seven

  Back in its room, 541588 had forgotten about 541564 thinking about the next part of the plan. What was to be the next part of the plan? 541588 had expected that there would have been some resistance to its actions, but so far there was nothing. It had to attain the power to rule to liberate the entire population, but for this to happen, it needed to defeat someone: the leader of the commune or the leader of world. But the apathy from the powers above seemed perpetual. The only method of liberation which it could conceive of if nothing changed would be a slow and laborious manual deconditioning of everyone, one by one. But it couldn't make the others help it decondition, and it would take years to complete on its own. This was unfeasible. 541588 needed someone to come and challenge it, or it needed a new plan.

  Try as it did to think up of one, a new plan eluded 541588 and dinner quickly rolled around. It realised how hungry it was, slumped off its bed, and went down to the dining room. Only then did it consider for the first time that there might not be dinner, that there was no food to be had, and there was a moment of worry as it dawned on it that it might starve the whole commune. The worry dissipated, replaced by confusion as it arrived at the dining room to see everyone eating their fill. It had to check for itself. It hurried to the dispenser, pressed the button and the normal portion of gloop poured out. It sat down, eating in contemplation, and then it figured out what had happened and the worry returned. The grain was ejected and taken from the storage in the morning, before they had finished their work, and this grain would only last until the end of the day. That meant that there was still a problem with food. Would the grain have to be dug up? It was such a ridiculous proposition, but it seemed to be the only way out of the current predicament. It chastised itself, angry at its own rash stupidity. The plan had made so much sense at the time, but now, now what? Starvation for everyone. A slow, torturous death over the coming weeks. 541588 considered it more and decided it was not going to dig anything up. It was sure that it itself could last for many weeks without food, and within that time the leaders would have come to intervene. They wouldn't let a whole commune die of starvation. The train of thought trailed off as 541588 was assured that it had made no mistake. It was now sure that it had acted ingeniously in executing a plan that would force an intervention. With that problem solved, it turned its mind to the conflict and battle it envisaged would certainly occur. The others would have to be able to fight, to attack and defend. But in their current state, they were too weak. They needed to be trained. 541588 was disturbed that it had not contemplated this much earlier and hurried to its room to think up a plan for the education of the others in the art of war.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, 541588 woke up hungry as usual and only remembered halfway down the stairs about the lack of food. It was still curious as to what would be happening, so it continued down the steps into the dining room. The scene was serene and there seemed no difference from a normal day. 541588 strode up to the dispenser to investigate this oddity. Was there another storage that it was unaware of? Then, as it saw the dispensed food, it realised that the grain was indeed missing. The
"food" that was dispensed was only vitamins and minerals mixed in water. Everyone would still starve. There would still have to be an intervention. Satisfied, it drank its fill and returned to its room, where it began to finalise its plans for the training of the others; the weapons to be used, the strategies they would employ and the techniques of fighting.

  Training commenced the following day. 541588 led them to the storehouse, distributed the scythes, shovels and pitchforks around and then marched them to a field where it paired them up and ordered them to try to beat their opposite number down to the ground. There was a smattering of awkward movements among the group. They swung their implements slowly, in random directions that had no chance of hitting the targets intended by 541588. They clearly weren't trying at all. It took a moment for 541588 to recollect its experience in trying to get one of them to hit another with a whip. It was difficult, but it could be done with the right encouragement. It picked up a scythe for itself, and demonstrated the task it wanted done on an unwitting victim, felling it with a swing that struck its torso. Then it issued an ultimatum. If within any pair there was no-one who had been defeated within 5 minutes, both would have a bout with 541588. The victim continued to thrash on the floor in pain. This was ample motivation, and the group was more focused in using their implements against their forced opponents. Still they were no fighters; instead their movements reflected the utility of the tools. Those with shovels, shovelled. Those with scythes, scythed. The result was a mess of activity with no positive result. They were practising their farming, not their fighting. 541588 wasn't sure what to do. Even for itself, there was an unshakeable feeling of bizarreness when wielding and using the farming tools in a weapon-like way. It continued to watch the group staggering around, and noticed a trend. The shovelers were most effective. The motion of shovelling, a forward thrust, was the closest to actual fighting. The scything was easily dodged, and whatever they were doing with the pitchfork was useless.