Original Design

by William Latoria

  Russia and China more or less share control of the eastern hemisphere of the world. With neither of them capable of taking on Candaerica, there is now a cold war going on between the two countries as they vie for second place. Occasionally, a small skirmish takes place, and sanctions are constantly enacted on one or the other, but for the most part they’re harmless.

  The Middle East is a different story altogether. Shortly after Candaerica shut down their military bases overseas and returned home, terrorist groups began flooding out of the Middle East causing mayhem all over the region. It seemed like every week a new terrorist group sprang up to push some crazy religious agenda by blowing up innocent people. Still trying to do right by their allies, and to avert nuclear war, Candaerica sent their military back to the Middle East, and in an engineering feat never duplicated since, built a massive sixty-foot-tall wall that was ten feet thick, completely around the Middle East. The wall extends around Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Oman, Kuwait, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Syria. The wall is equipped with massive, state of the art defenses that detect, engage, and neutralize anyone and anything that comes within one hundred yards of the wall’s perimeter. Anti-aircraft turrets are set up every three miles which keep their air power in check, and geomagnetic mines are planted along the foundation of the wall so that if anyone tries to dig under them, the mine detonates and kills them. As a further precaution, the Mediterranean Sea, Red Sea, Gulf of Aden, Gulf of Oman, Persian Gulf, Black Sea and Caspian Sea are heavily mined and patrolled by Candaerica, Russia, and China. Nothing goes into the Middle East, and nothing comes out. It’s been almost twenty years since the wall was completed, and there has been no terrorist activity to date.

  So this is the world of 2072, and it’s as peaceful as the planet as ever been. Candaerica is the world power that keeps the peace, and thanks to people like me, Colonel William (Bill) Herbert Blackshade, Army Air Corp of Candaerica (AACC), it will stay that way.

  Or, at least I had hoped it would, until the day I received the call that changed everything.

  This is my story.

  Chapter 1

  It was raining, and it was raining hard. Somewhere on the fringes of his consciousness, he could sense the rain coming down outside. The Candaerican National Anthem was blaring all around him in the pitch black room as Blackshade rose sleepily from his bed. The sensors in the room read his vital signs, and once they determined that he was fully awake, they shut down his alarm. Gradually, the light in the room came on, giving his eyes plenty of time to adjust. Yawning, Blackshade climbed out of bed and made his way to his refresher room. He had performed this routine countless times since being stationed here and his movements were now automatic. He walked over to the footpads set in the floor that were positioned in the middle of the refresher room. Just as he had done thousands of times before, he stretched out his arms, closed his eyes, and waited for the room to execute its program. Tiny refresher bots swarmed out of the walls, completely covering him as they cleansed his body of all contaminants. The refresher bots came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors, but generally they were about the size of a marble and about as heavy. His personal refresher bots were Army Air Corp black, which was his favorite color, and shaped like tiny B-52’s, which were the type of aircraft he had flown for his country. He knew it was a bit much, but he saw no shame in being patriotic.

  Using a sophisticated array of sensors and impurity attractors, refresher bots cleansed a human body more efficiently, and in less time, than old fashioned showers. In less than two minutes, the swarm of refresher bots had retreated back to their charging docks in the guts of his domicile. Blackshade was left standing there as clean and sterile as if he had just been through an autoclave. Turning towards the mirror, he inspected their work. As always, he saw a well built, naked forty-one-year-old Caucasian male in all his glory staring back at him. With a practiced swipe, Blackshade pulled an oral refresher strip from its dispenser and popped it into his mouth. He waited a few seconds for it to foam up with his saliva and then swished the mixture around a few times before spitting it into the sink. The sensors in the room had the water flowing before the wad hit the cold stainless steel of the basin and rinsed the mess down the drain cleanly and efficiently; not one drop of water was wasted. Blackshade inspected his teeth in the mirror and was proud to see his perfect, shiny white teeth smiling back at him. Running a calloused hand over his jaw, he was happy to see his beard suppressant was still effective, leaving his face smooth. He knew it usually only lasted a few months, so he would have to remember to schedule a new inoculation in the next couple of weeks. Otherwise, he would have to have Rufus reprogram the refresher bots to shave him as well, and that was unacceptable. Having to wait the extra ten seconds for the shave would put his morning routine behind schedule. Nodding to himself approvingly, he left the refresher room and made his way to the closet.

  With a wave of his hand, the closet door whisked silently open, exposing his collection of clothes. They hung neatly in three separate rows on their biodegradable hangers. Each row was color coordinated and held clothes for different occasions: formal, informal, and civilian attire. He took a moment to appreciate the organization before selecting his one-piece uniform for the day. One of the luxuries of being a Colonel in the Candaerican Army Air Corp, was being allowed to choose your uniform of the day. The one-piece uniform was his favorite for its comfort, and ease. It always made him feel like he was wearing an armored suit rather than clothes, which gave him a sense of confidence. Once he was dressed, Blackshade made his way to the nutrition dispensary of his domicile. Some of Candaerica’s more… “seasoned” citizens still called the room a kitchen, but the term felt very old fashioned to him. The idea of cooking a dead animal’s carcass on an open flame inside of his domicile was barbaric to him. He knew some of his Air Soldiers did things like that, but the idea of eating non-processed, “natural” food repulsed him. He was a child of technology; better living through chemistry was the best kind of living as far as he was concerned.

  “Rufus, are you online?” Blackshade asked the room. A deep, disembodied, masculine voice answered him immediately.

  “Yes, Colonel Blackshade, I am always online.” it said evenly.

  Blackshade smiled, Rufus was his Personalized Artificial Domicile System, or PADS as they were sometimes called. Most Candaerican homes had at least one installed in their domicile software. The system took care of all day-to-day domicile needs that used to bog down home owners. Cooking, cleaning, maintenance, environment, security, and even letting domesticated pets in and out of the home. There were even upgrades for children and the elderly to help them with their day-to-day activities such as getting ready for school, disposing of diapers (infants and adults), and playing soothing music while they slept. Blackshade loved his PADS program. It was hard for him to fathom how people used to keep their domiciles in full working order before their invention. He remembered his own parents dedicating multiple days a week to home maintenance, and the waste of so much time repulsed him.

  “Good morning, Rufus.” he said politely. He knew Rufus was just a program with no emotions, but he didn’t have a lot of opportunities to be kind to those that worked for him, so he always tried to take the opportunity when it arose, even if it was with a simple PADS program. “The usual morning ration, please.”

  “Of course, Sir.” Rufus responded, “With extra strong coffee, I assume?”

  Blackshade grinned at that, “That would be outstanding, Rufus. Thank you.” It was no secret that Blackshade was a coffee addict, and Rufus was well-aware of this fact. The darker and stronger the brew, the better. It was the one thing he ingested in its semi-natural form. Heavily filtered and processed, of course, but for him it was the equivalent of eating the beans right off the tree.

  Walking over to his black and white steel table, Blackshade gently tapped his foot against a sensor on the floor. Upon contact, a chair rose up from the floor to allow him to si
t at the table. Situating himself, he looked down at the display in the center of his dining table, which was already flashing with the day’s events. He knew that people used to get their information from corporate media television shows and newspapers, back when paper was heavily used. After the mass shutdown of all corporate news media due to the high rates of corruption and blatant deceit being reported on those shows, the internet took over as the world’s main source of information. Internet bloggers, independent journalists, and those that regularly found themselves in the right place at the right time filled the gap that the shutdown of regular media left and quickly became some of the most popular programming on the internet. Those with the highest amount of followers received sponsors and donations from their loyal fans. Those that proved unpopular, or corrupt, were shut down or ignored into obscurity. After a few years, some of the more popular bloggers joined up to form conglomerate blogs which proved to be much less biased and far more reliable than regular television media had ever been. Thus the reason the internet won the news war, and what was once considered main stream news was now a relic of the past.

  Blackshade busied himself going through a few articles written by some of his favorite conglomerates, which Rufus had made a point to leave prominent on his display. An article about the cold war between Russia and China caught his attention, as well as the condition of the great Middle Eastern wall, as well as a few articles from the local police reminding everyone how great they were and how wonderful it was to live in Candaerica. The part about people being wonderful was utter nonsense, but he enjoyed the part about Candaerica.

  After a few minutes a “READY” screen popped up over the article he was reading, letting him know his meal was ready. He smiled, knowing Rufus had waited till he was done with the article before allowing the screen to display its message. Tapping the button twice, he leaned back as a compartment opened on the table and his plate of pods and a large cup of steaming hot coffee lifted into place. The pods were heavily filtered, processed, and sterilized food containers that were easy to digest, incredibly nutritious, and pleasing to the pallet. He finished the first pod in two bites before reaching down for another. They were pleasantly warm and stenciled in edible ink with their flavor. Today, Rufus had provided him with ham and eggs pods, a traditional morning food ration. He traced a finger over the “Mexico Fresh” logo embedded in the pod. Blackshade rolled his eyes at the logo. He didn’t fully understand why the farmers bothered putting it there. It wasn’t as if any Candaerican would eat food from anywhere else. Ever since Candaerica had converted the entire country into farm land, it was the best quality food on the planet; it was also the cheapest and the safest. Eating food from anywhere else was not only expensive by comparison, it was incredibly dangerous, as the food potentially contained all sorts of bacteria, diseases, and impurities. Blackshade recalled an article he read that said before Mexico had been converted, processed food was expected to have bug particles in it! Bug parts in processed food! The savagery of the past absolutely disgusted him! He finished his meal before reaching for his cup of coffee. The lid that covered it opened at his touch, revealing a tear drop shaped hole that he could drink from. Knowing it would be at a perfect, safe, temperature Blackshade took two long swigs from it and then leaned back in his chair to savor the taste.

  “Enjoy your meal, Colonel?” Rufus asked, as the empty plate descended back into the table.

  “Immensely, my good PADS, immensely!” he answered honestly.

  “I am glad to hear that, Sir. Shall I favorite it and leave a positive review on Mexico’s website?” Rufus asked.

  Blackshade nodded absently, “Yes, please do.”

  “Done, Sir.” Rufus answered immediately. Then, without missing a beat, “Did you notice that the government has made today a price free day? And that all government owned entertainment facilities will be accessible, free of charge, for the rest of the week?”

  This surprised Blackshade. “No, I must have missed that. Did they say why?” he asked, curious.

  “The bloggers say that it’s to make everyone happy. And as a thank you from the government for being so pleasant and kind to each other.” Rufus answered.

  Blackshade’s eyes narrowed at this. He knew that Candaerican citizens were, for the most part, very nice people. They had to be. If you were caught hurting someone’s feelings, or acting in a bullying manner, you would do hard time in federal prison. He, himself, was commander of a squadron that enforced those laws and had done some pretty terrible things to enforce it.

  “Cruel so that others are kind.” he said absent-mindedly to himself.

  “I do not understand that direction, please repeat, Sir.” Rufus responded.

  Angrily, Blackshade shook his head, “Never mind, Rufus, and delete what I just said from your memory. Maximum wipe. Authorization, nini-corn.”

  After a few moments, a gentle ping rang out from the walls. “Deletion complete, Sir.” Rufus said.

  “Good!” Blackshade said, now in a foul mood, “I’m ready to head to work. Have a conveyance meet me outside.”

  “One has already arrived, Sir, and is waiting for you. Shall I have dinner ready when you get home?” Rufus responded.

  Still angry with himself, Blackshade nodded, “Yes, yes. That will be fine, Rufus. Have a good day.” Without waiting for a response, Blackshade walked out of his domicile.

  In his haste, he had completely forgotten about the rain and would have been instantly drenched if it hadn’t been for Rufus erecting a rain repeller the moment he stepped out the door. An invisible barrier formed over his head, redirecting the water to fall harmlessly around him.

  “Thank you, Rufus.” he said at his domicile and made his way to the automated conveyance that patiently waited for him in front of his house.

  “Barksdale Army Air Base. Authorization, Blackshade, William. Colonel.” he commanded as he entered the craft.

  The vehicle did nothing for a moment as it scanned him and ran its verification protocols. Then, as smooth as silk, the conveyance began to gain altitude and take him to his destination. Blackshade leaned back and took another sip of his coffee. The flavor helped him let go of his anger and relax a bit. Just as he was calming down, he felt the skin on his right forearm tingle and become slightly warm. Sighing, he placed his coffee in a cup holder and pulled his right sleeve back. Looking down at the display that sprung up from the circuits in the tissue of his arm, he saw that it was Chief General Galdon Snicket contacting him. The Chief General was the commander of Barksdale, and his boss. The fact that he was calling him directly like this was unprecedented. A bad feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as he wondered why the Chief General would be contacting him like this. He couldn’t think of anything he had done that would get him a reprimand, and there were no meetings he was supposed to attend this early in the day. More curious than worried, Blackshade tapped the answer input on his arm. Instantly, a heads up projection of the Chief General materialized before him. Blackshade didn’t know the Chief General very well. He was a heavier set man with a bald head and a lower lip that quivered when he talked. He had worked under the Chief General for four years now and had had about as many interactions with him.

  “Bill, it’s Galdon. I need you to assemble your squadron and meet me in my office in twenty minutes. Do you get me?” the Chief General asked. Blackshade was concerned, the Chief General was acting very odd, even for him. For starters, he didn’t realize that the Chief General knew his first name, let alone that they were on a first name basis. Second, the man was sweating profusely and looked terrified. A very odd combination of emotions for a man that had achieved the top rank in the Army Air Corp and who was surrounded by service guards at all times. What really worried Blackshade though, was that until this very moment, he had no idea the Chief General had his personal phone number; let alone that he would use it.

  “I get you, Sir. I should be arriving on base within the next ten minutes.” Blackshade answered confidentl
y in an attempt to mask his discomfort.

  “UNACCEPTABLE!” Chief General Snicket shrieked, his sudden overreaction distorting the display for a moment. “I authorize you to break the established speed limits! I need you and your team assembled NOW!” The hysteria in his tone and the wild panic that was now obviously overwhelming the Chief General offended Blackshade. He knew better than to show it, however.

  “Yes, Sir.” he said flatly as he tapped the “end call” sensor on his wrist and diverted his attention to his conveyance. “Conveyance, did you acknowledge that?” The machine beeped before responding.

  “Yes, Colonel Blackshade, shall I act on those orders?” the mechanical voice of the vehicle responded.

  “At once.” he told the machine as he strapped on the restraining gear. As he clicked the last clasp into place he felt the vehicle lurch, as their speed and altitude increased dramatically. Tensing his muscles and exhaling, Blackshade did as he had been trained to do in order to overcome the stressors his body was going through from the g-force.

  He loved everything about it. The feeling reminded him of the early years of his career as a B-52L AL-4 pilot. At first, he had been furious when he got assigned to the ancient B-52 squadron. He had desperately wanted to fly the high tech, cutting edge fighter jets the Army Air Corp had at its disposal. The F-72, the F-77, and the AF-100 were amazing military machines that could crush enemy assets faster than anything else on the planet. No other country in the world could stand up against the military might of Candaerica, thanks in large part to those fighters. Yet, the B-52 had won him over in a way no other machine ever could. The history of the B-52 and the way it cut through the sky was unlike anything currently in service. The fact that it was over one hundred years old and the only bomber still on active duty was beyond amazing. Its legacy easily gave it legendary status. To be a part of that history was one of the greatest honors of his life, even though he had never seen actual combat. The last war had been the Mexican Invasion back in 2035, when he was only four years old. His military service had consisted of support, shows of force, and in his most recent years, enforcement. He missed being a pilot, but he understood that being in charge of a squadron that maintained the peace through direct action was an important task. Still, in rare moments like these, he couldn’t help but to feel nostalgic.