Web of Extinction

by John Conroe

  “Only been out once. Yesterday. People stared. They stared a lot. On the plus side though, the local guys didn’t hit on Gabby and Monique when I was there. Apparently that’s a first.”

  “You’re not that intimidating… JJ would be more so.”

  “Right? But we can’t use JJ that way because he attracts too much female attention.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Bad idea. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “Forget what?”

  Chapter 39

  We decided—we being Brad, my mother, myself, JJ, Astrid, Sarah, Hannah, and my grandfather—that we needed to craft a charter or constitution, spelling out a guiding set of rules and principles for the little survival community we were building. Sarah, my mom, and Brad were designated as a subcommittee to put together a draft which would be edited, reworked, and resubmitted for the entire community to vote on.

  Among other things, it needed to create a governing council, designate jobs or offices to be held, and lay out the rules of how resources would be used, who could join, and what the steps would be. In essence, it needed to set up our government. Right off the bat, we decided it would a representative council, whereby each family unit who had bought into the facility would have a voting member. But we realized that not all of the members we might invite to join would have the resources to pay into the central fund. So the charter would have to account for other ways of earning owner status. Even then, not everyone would necessarily be able to earn that status.

  At the bare minimum, each adult, defined as age sixteen or older, would have a vote. The twins would be grandfathered in as they were only fourteen, almost fifteen. Family representatives would have two votes. The rest we left to the subcommittee to rough out.

  We also discussed how we were going to go about finding the right members to invite, how to invite them, and how many we could probably handle.

  Of those three questions, we really only answered the last one. The original base had been populated with about two hundred individuals during its lifespan as a US property. But there was space for maybe a bit more than that, maybe twenty-five or fifty more. That’s not to say we wanted that many to begin with; that’s just what we estimated the carrying capacity of our resources would be. We’d want to start much lower, say fifty or sixty more talented individuals who would have to be carefully selected for a solid fit. No way did any of us want to invite troublemakers into our little haven. So we were left a bit perplexed as to the first and second questions.

  Turns out the answer to both was already out there and operating on its own. The first we learned of it was a month after Harper arrived. Martin was on duty in the security command center, a job that was spread into shifts, which in turn were taken by myself, the four Johnsons, my mother, Harper, Sarah, and Hannah.

  Anyway, that day it was Martin in the control seat when an older model pickup truck pulled onto our road. JJ, Brad, Astrid, and myself met it at the main gate, weapons at hand but not in a real noticeable manner. As it pulled up, I realized I recognized the driver and immediately handed my rifle to Astrid before approaching the truck.

  “Kayla? What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I asked, walking up to the driver’s side. As I spoke, I was able to see inside and realized that Boyle was in the passenger seat of the old F-150.

  “Hey shooter,” Kayla Jensen said with a shy smile. “Funny thing that. See, Boyle and myself enlisted at the same time, went through training together, and ended up posted in Zone D together. So when our enlistment period came up a week ago, we already knew we wanted out. Too much shit going down, plus with the Zone being well on its way to being cleaned up, we would definitely have both been reassigned and not likely together. So we asked ourselves what should we do?”

  “And thought of me?”

  “Not right away. See, we didn’t even know where you were or how to reach you. You did that interview a couple of weeks ago from some obscure place and the network wouldn’t say where.”

  That was true. Astrid and I had gone on a special interview with Trinity herself as the interviewer, and by agreement with the Flottercots, had done it from a hotel in Concord, New Hampshire. The money was good and our little survival redoubt needed the cash.

  “Oookay,” I said, dragging it out in confusion. She smiled and nodded.

  “Weird, right? So we tried to find you, just to see what you were up to, and we couldn’t. Then we were contacted, told that we should look you up, that you could use a couple of top of the line soldiers and that we’d fit right in.”

  “Told? By who?”

  “Your drone… Rikki Tikki. At least the online version of him.”

  “Rikki contacted you?”

  “Started a web chat with Boyle while we were trying to search you out. At first we didn’t believe it, but it was able to verify a whole bunch of questions that only you or it would know the answers to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, stuff about when we first met you and all the fun little trips we had into the Zone together,” she said with a laugh.

  “Oh. Wow. I had no idea Rikki would do something like that. Did he say why?”

  “Yeah, weird right? It said you were building a survival community. That you needed the right people. Said we would fit right in,” she said.

  “Because you’re soldiers?”

  “Only partly. See, Rikki somehow knew that Boyle here is a hell of a blacksmith. A knife smith, really, but he not only makes shacking good blades, but also can pound out all kinds of other metal stuff. And me, I’m a hunter and fisher, mostly archery, but I grew up learning to trap and catch my food. And I not only teach archery, I make my own bows, everything from recurve to sophisticated compound bows too. So we have our soldier skills, but also some long-term community skills as well. Also, he said that we already liked you and had met many of your family and friends, and it seemed like we’d fit in.”

  Needless to say, I brought them into the compound and had them explain the whole thing to our little council.

  “Ajaya, have you been talking to Rikki?” my mother asked when Kayla had finished retelling the story and Boyle had nodded at each major point.

  “Just a little, you know, as we upload new copies to the net. I confirm to each copy that its mission is to defeat Plum Blossom,” I said. “That takes a little conversation.”

  “So how did it know about us needing people and then decided to contact these two?” Brad asked.

  “Because we were talking about the whole invitation process while we were launching copies,” Harper said, a eureka look on her face. She pulled out a tablet and held it up where most of the group could see it. “Rikki, are you available?”

  “Yes Harper,” was the immediate audio reply.

  “This is the copy in our own system that we use to send reinforcements out into the world,” she explained to the group. “Are you aware of any versions of your coding extending invitations to Corporals Boyle and Jensen?”

  “Of course. All copies of Rikki are currently engaged in the invitation process. Although the communiques should really be classified as informing potential individuals that this community exists, and suggesting that they might apply to this council for actual invitation.”

  “Wait, you say that like there are others? Other people besides the two corporals here?” Astrid asked.

  “Correct. Logic indicates that both of my primary missions, protecting Ajaya Gurung, his family, and Astrid Johnson, along with defeating the CThree known as Plum Blossom, will be greatly increased by providing the best mix of individuals with the necessary skills as well as the proper personality traits and experiential background to ensure that this community thrives.”

  And that answered that. Rikki had already solved our problem, although the group had very mixed feelings about it. Most of the negatives centered on loss of control, although others pointed out that control over who was invited and who wasn’t would still rest with the group, not the computer. Some of the positive
comments centered on having a sophisticated AI with our best interests at heart who was able to background check potential invitees at a level deeper than even the government could.

  When questioned on that very topic, Rikki’s answer was thorough. “I have studied the contents of sixty-two of the top psychology textbooks in current use, evaluated and utilize a number of sophisticated personality testing methodologies, and thoroughly evaluate each person’s email, social media, online purchasing record, driving record, police files, and educational transcripts. In addition, I observe each person throughout their daily lives for a minimum period of seven days before contacting them.”

  “Holy shit. You completely invade their privacy and personal records!” Sarah said.

  “Yes. I understand the concept of personal privacy, but disregard it as immaterial in fulfilling my missions.”

  “How about here? Do you invade privacy here?” Mom asked.

  “I monitor individuals in the control room, cyber lab, and anywhere cameras are in use. I do not invade personal access devices anywhere in the compound, or areas designated private such as bathrooms and personal quarters.”

  Mom gave me a look that indicated I would be having my own private conversation later. I glanced at Astrid and got exactly the same look again.

  While the others continued to talk, I showed Kayla and Boyle around the place, including the security command center, the gymnasium-slash-community meeting space, and especially the arsenal.

  “Shit, shooter, you all have packed in some serious stuff,” Kayla said, looking over the racks of weapons and cases of ammo.

  “The Johnsons and I have been salting away weapons inside the Zone for a decade. When we recovered the drone caches that I had made, we brought out a whole lot of this stuff too. Zone Defense was extremely lax in checking over the Johnsons’ vehicle. That whole celebrity status thing comes in handy.”

  “No shit, right, Boyle?”

  Her friend looked up from inspecting a row of FN assault rifles. “Yeah, this is pretty shacking loaded out.”

  I showed them the living quarters and let them pick their rooms, explained our communal living rules, and left them to get unpacked.

  Back in the meeting room, I found Sarah, Mom, and Brad still talking.

  “Ajaya, it seems our problem has been solved by your computer buddy,” Sarah said. “For better or worse. We talked it over and we think we’ll entertain and interview anyone who shows up, send them home, and then decide who to invite. Those two showed up with most of their stuff already, but most people are going to need to go back and pack up their lives.”

  “Plus it lets us say no and not have them sitting here with nowhere else to go,” Mom said.

  “If those two are indicative of Rikki’s selection prowess, we should have some really good candidates,” Brad said.

  Chapter 40

  Brad turned out to be incredibly correct. The world continued to try and deal with the fallout of the worst corruption case in the history of the most powerful country on the planet. Congress, the court system, and the White House were engaged in a daily power struggle as more and more members of the Drone conspiracy came to light. Accusations flew, denial was the new national sport, and slowly our government burned itself from both ends.

  The rate of new Spider-converted AI systems slowed, at least according to the special task force created by the president. Harper’s own take on the situation, backed up by our in-house copy of Rikki, seemed to lean toward agreeing with that assessment. However, damage continued to be done to food and water systems worldwide. The initial damage to the US crop system by both flooding and accidental herbicide application was enough to push the price of grain futures higher by twenty percent when the first estimates of crop yield came out.

  In the volatile Middle East and North African regions, where over seven hundred million people lived in countries whose agricultural systems could only support about ten percent of that number, the higher cost of imported grain was already being felt. The subsidized food programs that allowed those populations to outgrow their carrying capacities were struggling to pay for the amount of food needed. Even in an overstimulated news media, these stories were starting to be heard.

  We continued to stock our own supplies, plant our own crops, and interact with the greater communities around us to build relationships.

  A week after Kayla and Boyle’s arrival, another pair arrived. A husband and wife team of certified teachers who had met each other working summers on an organic farm in Maine. Between the two of them, they were qualified to teach English, math, and science, kindergarten through the twelfth grade. They had two small children, no other extended family, and were extremely worried about the near future.

  Two days after that, a pair of married women showed up, one wife an accomplished machinist and professional welder, the other a registered nurse.

  Four days after the machinist and nurse left to pack up their lives, an electrical engineer and her biochemist husband arrived. In addition to their technical skills, both were accomplished amateur musicians. In fact, all of the people we interviewed displayed depth beyond their valuable career skills. The nurse was also an herbalist, and the machinist crafted high quality furniture as a hobby.

  Our subcommittee built out a draft of a constitution which they submitted to the rest of the community for comment. And comment we did. It went back for modifications while we continued to forge ahead with our plans.

  There was an enormous amount of work to be done. We needed to accumulate equipment and parts, tools and machines, stockpiles of food and medical supplies. We outlined what we needed and then assigned individuals to handle it. If those individuals had insights into their tasks, and they all did, then their feedback was listened to and changes made.

  As much as possible, we standardized where we could. We only bought machinery that was compatible, as much as possible, with our other equipment. We stockpiled tools, ammunition, and spare parts of the same brands, calibers, and weapon types for maximum interchangeability.

  The twins were tasked with visiting as many farms as possible, spreading our consumable food purchases across the local community. Too young to drive, they took a different member of the security team with them each day, which had the dual effect of keeping them safe and introducing us to our neighbors. One of their many subtasks was to keep on the lookout for useful books to become the genesis of a reference library of printed hard copy. Oddly, a lot of that material was either very, very cheap or, in some cases, completely free. Vermont is very progressive, and most landfills and transfer stations had some manner of free swap shop where people could leave unwanted but still viable goods for others to use. The result was a quick influx of books to fill the shelves of the base’s old library. And it wasn’t just nonfiction that made its way onto the shelves, but a constantly growing collection of purely entertainment-oriented books as well.

  With Kayla’s help, we scouted our entire property to ensure both the integrity of the fencing and to take a census of what game lived within its confines. Several breaches in the fencing were fixed, which locked in a resident population of deer and locked out the two local packs of coyotes that would have hunted them. We also had turkeys, squirrels, rabbits, partridge, raccoons, skunks, porcupines, fishers, weasels, and muskrats. Our little pond held bullhead, bass, and perch, along with snapping turtles, painted turtles, bullfrogs, and whatever waterfowl wanted to visit. Kayla was designated as the compound game warden to watch over the deer population, in particular, and the rest of the game as well.

  Hannah worked on equipping and setting up a medical clinic, Martin and JJ were in charge of the motor pool and garage, Aama the kitchens with Sarah’s mother helping her, my grandparents tackled the greenhouse and supervised our communal gardens, Boyle set up a forge and metal working shop in the garage facility, Kayla helped me with the arsenal, and Astrid worked closely with Gabby and Monique with the outreach program. And we all helped each other wherever
and whenever needed. Time passed in a blur, interviewees arrived and left, and the first successful candidates moved in. In fact, the teachers and the machinist-nurse couple arrived the same day, the engineer and chemist arriving two days later.