by Mike Kraus
“Gentlemen, I recommend that you return to your offices. I will update you with further information.” The men nod and leave quickly. Mr. Doe does not return to his office on the top floor, however. He exits the conference room and enters a small elevator at the end of the hall, just large enough to fit one or two people. He presses a button inside the elevator and the doors shut. The elevator barrels downwards, past the lowest levels of the building, deep into the earth.
Undisclosed Location
March 25, 2038
In the laboratory, David positions a video camera on a tripod, looking nervously at the door to the lab. From outside, in the corridor, horrific screams echo through the walls. A few scattered individuals run past the windows, not paying enough attention to notice David. David tries to ignore the screaming and finishes setting up the camera, ignoring the people in the hallway.
Deep rumbles sound from overhead, the room shakes and the lights flicker. David staggers with the shaking, holding on to the tripod to keep it from toppling over. He runs over to check a computer that is still on in the corner. The computer is receiving a live data stream from the complex. While the stream is incomplete, it gives David insight into the conditions in the rest of the laboratory.
David pulls up a schematic of the laboratory on the laptop, rotating the model on the screen to view a flashing indicator from several levels down. A large ‘B’ flashes red on the screen and David touches it. A dialog box appears and prompts David for a password. He holds his finger to the screen, allowing his thumbprint to be scanned and the dialog box changes to show a status of the area he is examining.
Unit: BERTHA
Status: Non-functional
Diagnosis: Undetermined
Details: Unit reports activation at 1946. Failure in main detonation chamber reported. Self-diagnosis routines are offline. Please check back later.
David wipes a trickle of sweat from his brow as he reads the status report on the screen and whispers to the empty room. “If Bertha’s gone, we’re screwed.” The laboratory has many safeguards against a contamination failure. One of the last is the activation of Bertha, deep in the heart of the facility. It is a failsafe measure, designed to be a method of extreme last resort, only when all other options are gone and when contamination with the outside world cannot be allowed.
David rotates the model again, examining more of the facility. Much of the diagram is green, though scattered sections turn red before his eyes. All of the red sections are on the lowest parts of the facility, where the most people are gathered. Seconds go by and more sections turn red, moving up into the higher sections of the laboratory.
Through the windows into the hall, David can see movement as people run, trying to escape the complex. Wisps of silver smoke trail behind the people, enveloping them and extinguishing their screams. The complex has been shut down for hours now, though, and their attempts at escape are futile. David shakes his head and sits down in front of the camera, seated on a stool in front of the lab tables. He turns the camera on and speaks, staring at the red light that blinks softly in the dimmed light of the lab.
“My name is David Landry. I’m a researcher in Laboratory Victor. This message is for any who receives it. Bertha has failed. Containment has been breached. I don’t know how long I have before they reach this room. I’ve prepared a compressed data stream and attached it in this video. It has a complete summary of the events of the last 24 hours, including as much information as I’ve been able to gather on my own.”
David taps on the keys of a computer behind him. The video screen goes blank, then is filled with static. A thrumming sound accompanies the static as massive amounts of data are fed to the video and encoded. The automated system logs, the video surveillance, production graphs and more are all embedded in the video, stored for safekeeping. The feed finally completes and David addresses the camera once again.
Leonard McComb | Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | Nancy Sims
9:59 AM, April 5, 2038
In the small armory, the four strangers watched the video unfold on the screen. The air was stale, the smell unpleasant and the conditions barely tolerable. They were alive, though, and it was a fact that was not lost on a single one of them. Nancy had regained her composure and sat quietly against the wall, a few feet from Rachel, watching the computer. Leonard was up, wandering around, looking through the endless rows of guns and equipment that adorned the walls and shelves of the room. Marcus was seated on the opposite side of Rachel, patting Sam’s head as the canine slept.
Rachel keyed the volume down to adjust for the screeching and bass undertones that came with the static. The group covered their ears and Marcus hollered over the din.
“What’s all that racket and static about?”
Rachel shouted back at him, keeping her eyes on the screen. “It’s compressed and encoded data. Instead of sending audio and video, David sent raw data directly to the camera to record on the data stick. It shows up in the video as static and noise, but if you decode it, you’ll see—” The static abruptly stopped and Rachel’s voice thundered in the sudden silence as she continued, “what it actually is.” She lowered her voice, waiting for the video to continue. “Hopefully I can do that and get some more answers about what’s going on. “
There was a flicker on the screen and David popped back into view. “That has everything I know on it. Technically speaking, this information goes beyond top secret, but I don’t think that matters very much anymore.” David stared beyond the camera, wincing as a nearby scream was cut off, ending with a gurgle. “I can’t tell so far whether the inhibitors are working or not. I haven’t seen anyone who they’ve been calibrated to, so I can’t be certain. Once they find their way in, I guess I’ll know. In case they don’t work, I’m uploading this video on an emergency broadcast link before it gets cut out. Good luck out there and… I’m sorry.”
David walked to the camera and it abruptly shut off, leaving the screen of the computer in darkness. Rachel pulled the memory stick out of the laptop and stared at it before placing it back into its storage box. As the video ended, Leonard was still pacing around the room, examining the weapons and equipment for anything they could make use of to escape the police station.
Next to the pile of electronics where the computer had been found he saw a bank of antennas buried under some bulletproof jackets. Leonard pushed the jackets aside, finding that the antennas belonged to a set of police radios that were sitting in their charging bays. While the power had long since been disconnected, the radios were turned off, so their batteries were still fully charged.
Leonard switched on the rows of radios one by one, excited to see their screens and status lights start to glow. “Hey, check it out! These radios are still working!” Rachel looked over at Leonard, watching him turn the volume up on one of the radios. It crackled, then a faint voice came through. Leonard nearly dropped the radio in surprise before cranking up the volume to its maximum setting. The voice that echoed through the room sent chills down Rachel’s back, causing her hairs to stand on end.
“This is David Landry. If you can hear this, you are not alone. If you are near or can reach Washington, D.C. in the United States of America, I can help you. I can help you defeat the swarms. A temporary shelter has been established south of DC, in the city of Richmond, with a second to the east in Norfolk. Proceed to one of these shelters as quickly as possible. Avoid contact with the swarms at all costs. If anyone you see has been altered by the swarms, execute them with extreme prejudice. You must reach DC as quickly as possible. Time is of the essence. Coordinates follow.” A latitude and longitude reading came next, then the message repeated, set on a loop.
Rachel looked from Leonard to the video, where David’s frightened expression was frozen in place. She whispered, grasping the magnitude of what was happening.
“He’s alive. And he figured out how to stop them.”
Final Dawn: Episode 5
Preface
In
1981, the world’s largest nuclear powered submarine was commissioned by the Russian Navy. Designed to carry twenty nuclear-tipped warheads, eight Akula class (designated as “Typhoon” class by NATO) submarines were planned, but only six were built. These submarines were five hundred and seventy-four feet long, with a width of seventy-five feet and contained four stories worth of decks.
Built as the ultimate war machine, these submarines were the quietest and deadliest submarines of their day. By 2026, however, five of the original six Typhoons had been scrapped, leaving only one still in active service. Used mainly as a tourist attraction and to perform occasional exercises with the Russian Navy, the Arkhangelsk had its last upgrade in 2014, when it was outfitted with a more powerful set of nuclear reactors designed to last a minimum of fifty to seventy-five years with virtually no maintenance required.
The Typhoon-class submarines were said to be first-strike weapons, capable of moving silently near an enemy and devastating them with missiles, rendering all defenses useless against the sneak attack. Fortunately, this capability was never used, and the Typhoons quickly fell out of service as smaller and more agile submarines were developed.
During most of the training missions taken by the Arkhangelsk, it has been loaded only with replica weaponry and operates only in Russian waters, safe from the prying eyes and ears of foreign powers. On its last mission, however, the powerful symbol of cold war domination was outfitted with a full complement of the latest weapons, both conventional and nuclear.
Though the Arkhangelsk is decades out of date, it is still a powerful foe, and when facing any other single vessel alone at sea, it is more than a match for even the newest and most powerful warships and submarines. Through dedicated upkeep and maintenance, this ancient sub’s last mission is one filled with more danger than any of its crew could have expected as it set sail for America in March of 2038.
Undisclosed Location
June 9, 2036
“What I propose, gentlemen, is nothing less than a tool that will render every other weapon on Earth inert, both in the present and future.”
The projector advances to the next slide as the man delivers his presentation in the conference room. An image appears on the screen, showing a cross-section diagram of a small, insect-like creature. Slides continue to advance as the man speaks.
“As you can see from this diagram, our latest projections show that we can manufacturer the devices at a small enough size and in a great enough quantity that they can infiltrate nearly any location on the planet, land or sea. If we combine this hardware with the AI advances that one of our other research divisions has made, I believe we can integrate the AI network into the devices themselves, creating a fully autonomous swarm.”
“When you say ‘fully autonomous,’ please expound on what exactly that means.”
“Of course, Mr. Doe.” The man giving the presentation addresses the one sitting at the end of the table directly. “In a single device, its capabilities will be severely limited due to space limitations. We can’t fit an entire computer onto a device that small. Even if we could, though, we wouldn’t want to. The true power in these devices is when they’re in swarms. Once a swarm achieves critical mass at around ten thousand units, they’ll have enough processing power between them to be fully autonomous. So they’ll be able to take orders, repair themselves, navigate through virtually any conditions, self-replicate and so on.”
The man continues. “Now, I know that ten thousand devices to achieve critical mass sounds like a lot, but believe me gentlemen, we’ve perfected a construction process that will guarantee an output of nearly a million units per day at peak capacity. Plus, remember that they can self-replicate, which will add to that number should you need more of them at a faster pace.”
“Ten thousand does sound like a lot, space-wise. How big will a group of that size be?” One of the men at the side of the table asks the question.
“That’s one of the best parts. At a critical mass of ten thousand, the bare minimum required for full automation, the units would measure approximately a centimeter across if you laid them end-to-end, although you wouldn’t be able to see them unless they were active. Visual acquirement of an inactive swarm requires significantly more units before it becomes visible to the naked eye, though that number is reduced, of course, if they’re actively moving about.”
The man who posed the question whistled in appreciation.
“The software, can it be changed and upgraded with our own?” Mr. Doe speaks again. The man giving the presentation stammers at this question, not expecting to hear it.
“Well, uh, of course they can be, but we highly recommend against it. We’ve developed preliminary software that will work flawlessly with the devices, should we be awarded the contract, and I think you’ll find that it more than meets the specifications that have been—“ Mr. Doe cuts the man off.
“We prefer to integrate our own software once your hardware and preliminary software has been tested. Thank you for your presentation. We will be in touch soon.”
“Of course, I understand. Thank you, as well.” The five men at the table say nothing in response as the man gathers his presentation materials and leaves.
Leonard McComb | Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | Nancy Sims
10:48 AM, April 5, 2038
The air in the armory was getting stale. Though there was some ventilation from the outside, it wasn’t enough to completely draw out the smell of the makeshift toilet in the corner. Set up behind a large stack of boxes, it was the only way the group could deal with the situation until they decided to leave the secured structure.
The creatures hadn’t made much noise since they had stopped beating on the door to the armory. Occasionally the four would hear scraping on the top, bottom or sides of the armory as the creatures explored every section of the police station, trying to find a weak spot into the steel structure. The only two entrances into the room, though, were through the main door and a small slatted ventilation shaft, so the creatures were stuck, unable to get in.
Following the transmission from David, Rachel had tried for several minutes to respond on the radio. After receiving nothing back except the looped message, she threw the radio down in frustration. The transmitter on the radio wasn’t powerful enough to reach all the way up to DC, so they were stuck with listening to the transmission without being able to reply.
With energy bars and water bottles in hand, the group sat in a circle in the armory, bathed in the pale glow of a single EL light that had been placed on an upper shelf. They listened intently to Rachel as she began to tell them about herself, slowly revealing what she knew about the silver masses and the present condition of the world.
“I first started working in the laboratory in Washington in early 2037, a few months after the project officially started. I was brought on as one of the head researchers due to my background in computer science and artificial intelligence integration. Together with David and a few other leads, we helped coordinate the six hundred people on staff in the facility.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow at this. “Six hundred? You’d think a project that big, even some super-secret government one, would get a mention in the news somewhere.”
Rachel shook her head. “Yeah, it doesn’t work like that with this agency. “
“What agency is it? NSA?” Marcus spoke as he idly patted Sam’s head.
“It… well, it really didn’t have a name. It was more about the man in charge, a man who called himself ‘Mr. Doe.’ He was in charge of the entire operation. There wasn’t a thermostat adjusted that he didn’t know about, and between him and the reams of contracts every person had to sign, nobody was in the mood to talk about the work.”
“So what was the work, exactly?” Leonard leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.
Rachel sighed and shook her head. “Where do I start?”
“How about you tell us what those swarms are, and what connection you have to them.”
“Nanobots?” Leonard’s other eyebrow went up as he uttered the word.
“Give the man a dollar. Nanomachines, nanites, nanobots. They go by a bunch of names, but they’re all the same thing. Tiny little robots produced in mass quantities, loaded up with software, then sent out into the world.”
“Wait, hold on. Robots? What is this, some kind of sci-fi bullshit?” Marcus was incredulous, barely containing his derisive laughter. “This is absolutely ludicrous.”
Leonard’s head shook as he spoke. “No, no it’s not. It makes total sense. I mean, sure, it’s twenty years ahead of its time, but still, it makes complete sense. They’re silver in the light because they’re metallic and they move in swarms like you’d see bees or fish move.”
Leonard looked up at Rachel. “But then again, that technology is still twenty years away.”