Humankind_Saga 1

by Mic Shannon

  “Well,” he began, removing his PDA device from his pocket. He placed it on the Oval Office desk and pressed a side button, activating a hologram above it that displayed three images. The Administrator continued, “at first, we thought these could possibly be…well, tiny asteroids. But as you look closer at the imagery from the Voyager probe, you notice that each one has a particular pattern.”

  The President squinted her eyes as she leaned in to look at the photos on the hologram. They were blurry, but she could decipher the shapes. All three were identical.

  “So, we looked closer,” continued the Administrator, pressing another button to change the photo. This time the image was significantly magnified, showing the shape in perfect detail. It was smooth and circular, shaped like a cone, with the point facing toward Earth. She had never seen it before.

  “It looks like it might be a disk ma’am,” he said, looking her in the eye.

  “What, you mean like, one of our disks?” she inquired, bewildered at the possibility.

  In 2020, the government had released classified documents about the nature of flying saucers. It was the first time in history that they had ever spoken on the matter. From the year 1938 to the year 1991, the government had been involved in creating and testing aeronautical concepts. Among the most popular of those were the flying saucer, developed by a German-American scientist in the early days of World War II. The myth had been declared true by the United States, albeit not entirely satisfying outlandish conspiracy theorists. Since then, disks had become increasingly popular as the technology was released to the public, advancing aeronautical concepts and intensifying the race to establish colonies on other planets.

  “Well, they’re not exactly like ours,” said the Administrator, citing the shape of the structures, “Ours are flatter, but this, as you can see, is more bullet-shaped.”

  “So…it’s not ours?”

  “What are you getting at?” asked CIA Director Horn, hoping to get to the point so that he could give his briefing and get back to his chaotic day.

  “Well, these craft, they’re not like ours. In that respect, they’re unidentified. But, there’s something else.”

  The Administrator clicked the button on the PDA once again. The image changed.

  “We used another tracking telescope to observe even closer. What we found was…well, unsettling.”

  The image showed the smooth area of the craft branded with a symbol. A symbol that none in the room could identify. A symbol that could not have come from anywhere other than Earth:

  The President stared at the symbol, then looked around at the rest of her advisors, puzzling looks on their faces.

  “Okay, thank you very much,” she said, dismissing him, “Can you transfer these images to us?”

  “Yes ma’am,” said the Administrator, “I’m doing it now.”

  The President and her advisors grabbed their PDA’s and clicked to accept the files. The files were immediately encrypted by their device.

  “Okay,” said the President, looking at the Administrator with her warmest fake smile, “let us know if you come across any new developments.”

  “Yes ma’am, I most certainly will,” he replied with a smile, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

  She looked to the other three advisors in the room, “Somebody needs to put those pieces together, and fast.”

  “I’m on it, ma’am,” said the CIA Director, clicking his pen and opening his notebook.

  “Also,” said the President, “let’s get our BHT on it, see if we can snatch any top-secret information from another country that might be related to these objects.”

  BHT: The Black Hat Team. The team that technically didn’t exist. The team of computer hackers that hacked Korean nuclear facilities over three-hundred times in the past decade. The team that shut down the Kremlin’s infrastructure for thirty seconds during elections. The team that had penetrated the firewall at China’s Ministry of State Security in Beijing. They had over nineteen hundred successful hacking missions since their creation in 2019. However, they were not the only government sponsored black hat operation. Hacking was such a crucial part of intelligence that there were few governments who did not have a covert hacking team. It was a part of everyday intelligence operations; routine practice that often found the United States’ intelligence community the victim of roughly eight to ten successful hacks each year.

  “I’ll see what they can dig up,” replied Director Horn, jotting notes in his booklet. He was old-school. He didn’t like technology. Why ruin his clean record with an e-mail scandal or an exploited password?

  “While you’re at it,” continued the President, “tell me about Laredo.”

  The bombing at Laredo was horrendous. A horrific spectacle of anti-government protest. Two Mexican-Americans had bombed the border fence in Laredo, Texas, blowing a hole in the partition almost twenty-feet wide. Seven border officials had lost their lives. There had been protests ever since, rather riots, although both were synonymous. The Texas legislation the year prior had passed the Crimmigration Law, declaring all illegal immigrants without documentation criminals under Texas Law. The crime held a minimum sentence of twenty-five years to life. Two more states passed the law as well that year, resulting in more immigration task forces with pervasive authority and brutal tactics. Since the Laredo bombing, over nineteen thousand cases of assault on Hispanic-American citizens had been reported in the country, along with two lost lives during protests.

  “The F.B.I. has the two suspects in custody, we’re letting them deal with it,” he responded.

  “Have they said anything?”

  The Director sighed, “Yeah. Yeah, they said that they were opposed to Crimmigration. Said that they had family members who’ve been imprisoned or killed. So, they thought that this was the answer. Blowing a hole in the fence as a sign of defiance. Or maybe they just wanted to let more immigrants in, I dunno. They did say that the U.S. breeds domestic terrorists, just like the Caucasian Muslim in California in ‘29 and the Indian Truck Bomber in ‘32.”

  “How did they do it?” asked the President, taking notes for the afternoon’s press conference.

  “They hid their plans electronically on an old refrigerator’s loading panel. It’s an N.I.C. tactic, and it looks like they learned it from watching videos online,” responded the Director.

  “Yeah,” sighed the President, “I guess that’s the downside to the Internet of Things.”

  The Internet of Things came about in the early 2020’s. As technology expanded to include computer integration in everything from watches to refrigerators to trash cans, companies began utilizing it to their advantage by recording accurate data, including maintenance and diagnostic information. The Internet of Things meant that a simple smoke alarm could alert the police and fire department automatically, as well as open all doors in the building. It meant that vendors and distributors ordered and delivered the right amount every time, leaning on the information pulled from their connected hardware. It meant that a heart monitor could notify a family, physician, and hospital of a malfunction in real time.

  “I urge you to make a statement, Mrs. President,” said Patricia, standing in the corner over her notepad, “I know people want to hear something. Anything.”

  It was a delicate political conundrum. Push and pull. She couldn’t afford to look soft on crime, as if these two young men were justified in the horrific things that they did. But she also couldn’t look malevolent. Backing Crimmigration was against her party’s policy, as well as her personal beliefs, and the Federal Government didn’t have much authority over state matters anyway. Congress was run by corporations, swayed by their enormous donations. She could expect proposals for an increase in interior defense spending and legislation that would largely benefit the Border Safety Association.

  “Mr. Adams,” said the President, looking over at her National Security Advisor, “any new information on the N.I.C.?”

  “Speci
al Operations intercepted communications that could potentially link Korea to the N.I.C. Funding, technology…even training. Unfortunately, yesterday the information was destroyed by Chinese hackers. They encrypted it from inside our network.”

  “So, they hacked us…again?”

  “This makes fifteen,” he replied, referring to the number of times China had hacked the United States that year, “I believe we’re on the edge of a technological war ma’am. Cyber Combat.”

  “First South China…now this?” remarked the President, “We need to get this under control now before somebody hacks into our In-LaWS Satellite, points it at us, and incinerates the east coast!”

  The room fell silent. The President sat forward and rubbed her brow in frustration. It was the last thing she wanted to hear. The country was technologically behind China, which had expanded its territory since 2020.

  In response to their population crisis, China had begun creating artificial islands in the South China Sea. Eventually, they began to link them together until they had formed land masses large enough to house citizens. It was the first time that a country had forcefully occupied international waters. By 2030, South China was a new continent, slightly smaller than Australia, which included Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, The Philippines, and Papua New Guinea. China had swallowed them up, letting them maintain sovereignty and claiming it as a benefit to all the nations in Southeast Asia. North Korea had joined China as well, although their motives were slightly different; they needed protection and medicine. To the United States, this posed a huge threat. With a new continent in the South China sea, the U.S. no longer had military access to the region. And with new accusations of Korea funding the N.I.C., American influence was fading even further.

  “Okay, anything else?” asked the President, sitting up in her chair.

  “No ma’am, that’s all I have at this time,” replied the General.

  She looked over at the CIA Director. He shook his head.

  “Okay, that’ll be all,” she said, dismissing them.

  The men stood up and filed out of the room. The blond advisor followed them and closed the door behind her, leaving the President alone in her office. She sat back again, pondering the crisis abroad. She hadn’t slept well the past few days, gravely concerned about China’s capabilities to hack their most secure networks and their inability to get Special Operations into that region.

  Her wrist began to vibrate as she looked down and noticed an incoming call on her wristphone. She pressed the side button, looking at the display as her husband’s warm smiling face came into view.

  “Hey honey,” she said, smiling back through the stress.

  “Hey baby,” he replied, “how are you?”

  She paused.

  “I have a headache…”

  FRI, MAY 5th, 2034

  Alexandria, VA, USA

  6:44 pm

  M ichael felt more confident in himself about Cynthia, even though he almost couldn’t believe it. Could his luck finally be turning around? It had been three days, and Saturday morning he made the call.

  He spoke to himself as his wristphone rang, “I can’t believe I listened to that kid.”

  “Hello,” answered Cynthia in her beautiful voice.

  “Uhh, hey, it’s me.”

  “Wait, who?” she responded, confused.

  “It’s Michael. I…I was calling about prom.”

  “Oh, Mike, hey! How are you?” she said with life in her voice, activating her wristphone’s webcam and appearing on his screen. He was relieved to hear that she was excited to hear from him.

  “Hi…yeah, um, I just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to going to prom with you.” He wanted to kick himself for emphasizing the word ‘really’, hoping it didn’t make him sound lame or desperate.

  “Oh…well…yeah, I’m really excited too!”

  Another sigh of relief.

  “So,” she continued, “I’m, like, trying to decide whether I want to wear my black heels or if I should go with white. Janelle suggested white, but I’m not sure. Maybe I should just, like, buy a new pair. What do you think?”

  She was rambling.

  “The shade of green that you showed me, is that the color you’re wearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “White then,” he said, offering his honest opinion.

  “But white might not look right!” she said, countering his judgement, “maybe I can, like, get a white and black pair from the shoe store. I dunno, that might not look right either. I guess I’ll just have to wait until I get my dress and see how it looks.”

  “Well, you did ask for my opinion.”

  “I know, I just…” he could hear the stress in her voice.

  “Look, we’ve got a week before prom, right? You’ve got time.” He wanted to comfort her.

  “I know, you’re right. I’ll figure it out.”

  The line was silent for a moment. He was thinking of something to say. “C’mon, say something,” he thought.

  “So,” she began, interrupting the silence first, “are you going to get me a corsage?”

  “What was that and where in the world would he get one of those?” he thought to himself

  “Umm, yeah, sure.”

  “Ok, cool, because my friend Tammy that graduated last year, oh my God she was, like, so cute she had the little corsage on her wrist and she was killing it! I have to look perfect. I’ve always dreamed of prom. I didn’t go last year. I wanted to, but my dad had like, gotten into a car accident and we spent that night in the hospital.”

  He knew exactly what that was like; to miss out on being a teenager because of a sick parent.

  “Anyway, this year is gonna be so much fun! My dad is taking me to pick up my dress tomorrow. I can’t wait!”

  Listening to the excitement in her voice, he could tell it was important to her. He had to make sure it was special. This might be his only chance.

  Cynthia rambled for another twenty or so minutes before getting off the phone to go to track practice. She was an exceptional runner. She had been to the state championship the past two years, coming away with awards in the one-hundred and two-hundred-meter dash. Michael sat back and thought about her again. What if she was the one? I mean, it was probably a stretch, but he was sure that she was into him.

  --- 7:17 pm ---

  Cynthia hung up with Michael and laid back on her bed, smiling. She knew she liked him. He was so innocent, and awkwardly charming. And there was something about his eyes. Something that she had never seen before. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she wondered…could he be the one?

  There was a knock on her door as the knob turned and her father entered. He smiled as he locked eyes with her.

  “Hola mariposa,” he said warmly as he entered the room. He had been calling her his butterfly ever since her kindergarten dance, when he had come to see her looking angelic as she pranced majestically with wings on her back. It was at that moment that he knew she was gifted. That she was precious. That he was proud of her.

  “Papi, I’m not una niña anymore.”

  “I know, I know,” he said sitting down, “but you’ll always be my niña, understand?”

  She smiled and looked away, “Mhmm…”

  “So, what’s up?”

  “Nothing,” she said, lying down on her bed and tapping on her wristphone in an obvious attempt to seem uninterested.

  “Hmm,” he said, “well, make sure you wash the dishes before Derek takes you to practice. I don’t want you forgetting again like last time.”

  “Okay papi, I will.”

  “And why do you wear those clothes anyway? They show your belly and your chichi’s are hanging out. I don’t like you going out like that. You know how I feel about boys. I don’t want you getting pregnant...”

  “I know, papi,” she said, annoyed by his daily lectures about boys and their malicious, primal intent. If anyone knew about boys, it was her. She lived with her father and brothe
r, her mother having died at a young age. She was the princess of the family, with only one female cousin that lived in Arizona.

  “Okay, you say you know, but I know you. You always trying to talk to the older boys. You think I don’t know that you’re showing off when you wear these clothes, huh? I know. But I don’t know why, chica.”

  “Papi, I don’t wanna argue!” snapped Cynthia as she sat up on the bed, “I get good grades. You said it yourself! I don’t know why my clothes are such a big deal!”

  He backed off, noticing her getting flustered as she usually did over her choice of clothing. He didn’t want to anger her for fear of losing his close relationship with her. He loved that she was his butterfly.

  “Okay, calm down,” he said to her, motioning with his hands as he sat down next to her on the bed, “but just know, mariposa, you’re better than that. You know what those good grades mean? They mean that you will find someone who loves you for this…”

  He touched her on her forehead. She looked away and tried to hide a smile, her cheeks blushing red, just like that little mariposa so many years ago.

  Her father’s wristphone began to vibrate with a reminder. He looked down at it and clicked the side button, “I’ve gotta go.”

  Her father worked two jobs since she was ten years old. He tried to be home as often as he could, but she was mostly in the house by herself these days, unless her brother Derek came to visit from college. Her father rushed out of the door in a flash, his car starting as he approached it and the door opening automatically for him to get inside.

  As soon as he left, she rolled over onto her stomach and began thinking about Michael again. She couldn’t remember feeling like this about anyone before, at least not in a long time. She had once loved an older boy who turned out to be a criminal, shattering her heart into pieces at the tender age of thirteen. But that didn’t count.

  “Hey gordita,” came a voice from the doorway.

  She jumped, frightened, and turned to see her brother Derek. She picked up her pillow and threw it at him for scaring her.