Dark Nights

by Christopher A. Gray

  Insistent questions were about Mekhos. The Envoy was hard pressed to explain, over and over, that the quantum computer harbored no ill will towards Earth. It had merely used its implacable logic to solve a problem. Mekhos possessed no emotions about its home planet either. For many individuals it was difficult to fathom that such a powerful thinking machine had no feelings of protectiveness towards society. Everyone on FLO had long since begun to anthropomorphize the QC. A select few individuals with close ties to Mekhos knew the truth and the Envoy group hinted at that in their assurances to Doug and his team and to the President and UN and anyone else who asked, that the emotionless supercomputer had calculated that only one world could be saved from environmental disaster.

  Mekhos reasoned that the more evolved world – the one with greater social, economic and political stability – would be saved. Even so, it was in a race against time to stop the species die-off on FLO before it became critical. It was hoped that the Moon would be placed into orbit around FLO in time to save those species most affected, and thereby minimize damage to the ecosystem and food supply. To Mekhos, it was simply unfortunate that Earth would bear the consequences of the actions.

  Governments were in panic. Calls were made between allies. Calls were made between adversaries. In the blind fear nobody knew what to do as the Moon was ripped from orbit and disappeared from view. Arrogant have-not dictators that up to then had been causing more than their fair share of trouble in the world began sending beseeching ambassadors to more powerful nations, begging for help and guidance with something they could not understand.

  Some heads of state were aware that the Moon’s disappearance would eventually wreak havoc with the ecosystem and food supply. They had to prepare their populations for the day when the damaging effects began to appear. Areas hard-hit by the quakes required rebuilding, which stressed resources and morale. Panic and anarchy would be the most likely result and had already started on a small scale, with citizens splitting off into groups to gather, secure and control as much water and food as possible. Lawlessness lurked just around the corner. Law and order had not broken down yet, but there wasn’t a government anywhere in the world that wasn’t fully immersed in planning for the inevitable breakdown that would come when enough people believed there was no hope.

  – 38 –

  Days after the event began, the worst of the earthquakes finally ended. The aftershocks and tremors hadn’t stopped though, and the insistent reminders on radio, television and the internet made every citizen in every country on the planet aware that the unpredictable and random shaking would go on for months or even longer. People everywhere were grimly trying to adapt to a new reality for which none of them could prepare.

  Agent Bishop was in the observation room of a holding facility at Andrews Air Force Base. He was with standing with a CIA debriefer watching an interrogation that had been going on for nearly an hour. Bishop was there as an observer, part of his security supervision of the Envoy and the scientific team.

  Once the true purpose of the Envoy’s mission was revealed, the scientific team’s mission shifted from urgent information gathering on something mysterious, to something more unsettlingly concrete. They were trying to gather information they hoped would save the human race.

  The Envoy team members were the primary source of information. Though the members of the Envoy were not instrumental in the plan Mekhos had devised and executed, they had prior knowledge of it. That fact alone had turned them into subjects of a particularly motivated group of interrogation experts cooperatively chosen from British Intelligence and the CIA who had all been brought to Andrews under a veil of total secrecy enforced by the NSA.

  Although he wasn’t part of the interrogation team, Bishop’s experience with the Envoy made him a consultant to the interrogators, and he was sometimes brought in to the observation area behind one-way glass as the subjects were questioned.

  The team had focused on two members of the Envoy, changing things up every day. Sleep deprivation, drugs, incessant questioning, threats followed by friendly dialog. All standard procedure. The interrogation team had run into a problem though. The Envoy members appeared to have very little useful information and seemed to be telling the truth about what information they did provide.

  Though he had deep-seated anger at the fate dealt Earth by Mekhos and was a battle-hardened veteran of the Gulf war, Afghanistan and several covert operations that had never hit the news, Bishop took no pleasure in witnessing a civilian being squeezed mentally or physically by professionals. The Envoy members were clearly what they claimed to be: civilian scientists on Earth by choice, to act as ambassadors in an impossible situation. Even so, given the grave threat posed by the Mekhos plan, the government had given the interrogators more leeway than usual, authorizing enhanced interrogation techniques when it came to dealing with the two subjects.

  Dr. Peter Morris was not holding up well. The interrogators had inflicted bouts of screaming, threats, sleep deprivation, intense light shone in his face, and even some physical beatings. When it eventually became clear that he knew little about the supercomputer or of the plan details, the interrogators turned to extracting strategic information.

  Morris was a navy doctor. Nevertheless, he had to have some knowledge of general military information, such as installation locations, command personnel and even some security details.

  “Your GPS locator doesn’t work here,” said an interrogator. “On what frequencies do your satellites operate? Come on doctor, you should have been given this information for emergencies, in case you found yourself trapped on foreign soil and needed to access a transmitter.”

  Morris gave them what information he could and they pressed on to other subjects. He went from being overly gregarious, to stoic silence, to pleading, and finally sobbing as his torment continued. From his reaction to the last blow Bishop figured he now had a broken rib. Bishop stepped forward and rapped on the glass, indicating the interrogators should ease up.

  “It’s not your place to object,” said the man next to him, the lead interrogator named Patrick.

  “Morris is afraid of his Raim,” Bishop replied. “Don’t you get it? He’s more afraid of the Raim than your team.”

  “You don’t know that,” Patrick said quickly, but there was little conviction in his voice.

  “I know that if your bruisers keep it up they may puncture his lung, lacerate his liver or worse,” Bishop replied. “If he’s in the hospital or morgue, you won’t get a lot out of him. Cut the Raim off, let Morris live without it for a couple of days, then try to make friends with him. You’re treating Morris like a terrorist when you should be treating him like a defector.”

  “The Raim won’t come off. Not easily,” Patrick replied tightly. “Best information we’ve got is that it has a tough core specifically designed to resist simple removal by cutting. The subject also screamed about a non-key removal causing power supply discharge that could blow his wrist apart. We lanced it repeatedly. We disabled it and it can’t transmit. We’re sure of that much. It obviously didn’t blow up either.”

  “That might be propaganda put out by Mekhos itself. Morris obviously believes the Raim is still working somehow. Remove it. Have a surgical team standing by just in case. What I said still stands. He’s a scientist, not military. Not a spy. All you’re doing is terrorizing him and getting nothing in return.”

  Agent Patrick hesitated. Bishop wasn’t wrong. Everybody was desperate and it was showing in the worst ways. The men inside the room were looking back at the one-way glass, awaiting orders. Patrick moved to the intercom. “That’s enough for now. Dr. Morris will cooperate with us tomorrow.”

  “Your team,” Bishop said to Patrick, “has gone too far. Dr. Morris doesn’t really understand what’s happening to him. I’d bet real money he was prepared to cooperate fully after some gentle persuasion, but it looks like your crew mistook hesitation on his part for actual resistance. You made Morris think about his Raim and dig
his heels in. You made a mistake.”

  “You sympathize with these people?” Patrick replied, staring at Bishop. “Morris started to cooperate, then stopped of his own accord. The Raim is an unknown. I’ve got bigger problems here. We’re following protocols, nothing more.”

  “No you’re not,” Bishop said, turning to face him. “You’ve blown it, and you’re going to have to deal with the consequences of sending Morris, busted up, Raim and all, back to his people. You want to stand on protocols? Fine. Protocol states that you deal most effectively with a scientist by impressing him with the benefits and opportunities of cooperation. You haven’t done that. Not even close. Your team lost its collective temper and you let them take it out on Morris. So good luck, Mr. Patrick. You’ve only made it harder for yourself. You’re going to catch hell for this.”

  Patrick looked at Bishop in stunned silence. As the agents unstrapped Morris from the chair, Bishop left the observation room for good. Training for his new mission would demand one hundred percent of his time.

  – 39 –

  Arthur Leach, the White House Chief of Staff addressed the Joint Chiefs and the Intelligence services at the latest in a series of emergency meetings. He looked tired, and his suit showed signs of being worn a few hours too long. He was holding a photograph of a clear plastic-like bracelet taken from one of the Envoy prisoners.

  “This is called a Raim. It’s a fact of life on FLO, government issued and every citizen wears one. It’s some sort of multisensory-recorder-transceiver. Envoy leader Carl Bertrand provided the information after disabling and removing his own Raim. Otherwise he would not have been able to communicate fully with us without great personal risk to his family and colleagues on FLO. None of the other Envoy members were allowed to keep their Raim removal keys prior to departure for Earth.” He handed over the photograph to be passed around.

  “Bertrand and other envoy members have informed us that there is a growing anti-Mekhos faction on FLO. We have no reason to doubt the information. These groups believe the supercomputer has become too meddlesome, to the point at which there seems to be no personal privacy at all. A Raim is issued to every citizen over the age of twelve. It is a very sophisticated device. Think of it as a wearable computer and health monitor that is also capable of recording every utterance of the wearer and of those in close proximity. Mekhos and various governments on FLO have access to those recordings.”

  The Commandant of the Marine Corps examined the photo.

  “Bertrand also said that every citizen has the option to apply for a removal key, so the user need not wear it constantly, or at all,” he said, passing the photo along.

  “Removal keys are difficult to obtain, and getting more so every year,” Leach continued. “Those with criminal convictions can no longer get them. The bar for criminality now includes misdemeanor offences such as causing a disturbance. It’s becoming difficult to interact in their society without one, just as not having a driver’s licence and credit card is troublesome for people in most countries on Earth. So even those that grumble about the lack of privacy wear the Raim to avoid constant inconvenience. Some groups warn that life will soon be impossibly difficult without the bracelet. Every word will eventually be recorded, twenty-four hours a day. The fear is that Mekhos will have no problem finding and processing anyone it considers seditious.”

  “And this information helps us how?” the Commandant said impatiently. “On what basis do we trust information from Bertrand or any other Envoy member?”

  “Because there’s more,” Leach continued. “There are plenty of utopians in governments on FLO fully willing to sacrifice some freedoms in return for world peace. But the overarching control that Mekhos is gradually and firmly exercising over FLO has started to look like too high a price to pay. Bertrand has given us the contacts for an underground group on FLO that opposes Mekhos. The group is called Virtue. They are also sympathetic to Earth’s situation. Bertrand insists that the group will offer assistance to an outside team that may have a greater chance of success.”

  “Success at what?”

  Leach looked around the room before he answered, trying to predict the response.

  “Success at starting to fight back. We propose to help Virtue destroy or disable Mekhos.”

  – 40 –

  Professor Doug Lockwood had witnessed the world’s reaction to the loss of the moon. Much of the impotent posturing of the world’s leaders reminded Doug of a documentary he had once seen about logging in rainforests. As the logging trucks encroached on its part of the forest, a lone orangutan had climbed a tree at the edge of the clear cut and tossed a leafy branch down in the direction of the advancing machinery. A sad, futile gesture of defiance.

  China threatened to launch an attack to destroy the devices on the Moon. They had to know that any launched missile had no hope of reaching anywhere even close. It was simple saber rattling. If anything, the threat impressed upon every nation the folly of making angry, panic-based decisions in the midst of the crisis.

  In his Washington, DC apartment, Doug got himself a drink of water and went out to the balcony in his pajamas and slippers. It was 3:00 AM and unseasonably cold. The weather patterns were starting to change in the absence of the moon’s influence. Due to the stress of the situation and his workload he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. He moved about quietly because he didn’t want to disturb Janet, still sleeping. It had been three weeks since the Envoy ship from FLO had landed. In that time so much in the world had changed.

  Longtime colleagues sometimes turn to each other for intimacy, especially in times of deep stress and crisis, Doug thought to himself. Although he was jaded by the term, he knew that he may have found a soul mate in Janet. She was intelligent, thoughtful and emotionally mature, not to mention physically attractive. She was athletic, a runner. Maybe when things were less hectic he could convince her to take up cycling.

  Looking up at the moonless sky brought Doug back to the present. Despite the Envoy’s presence, Doug and his team still did not know enough about FLO. Mekhos had continued to impose broadcast silence, allowing only sparse programming to resume. Though it was unclear if it would provide any benefit, observatories, broadcast receivers of all kinds, military monitoring stations and radio telescopes all over the world were continually observing and listening for anything that might help gain an understanding of how to deal with FLO. The few broadcasts they could capture consisted of local news and entertainment shows. All they got out of the news reports were earthquake and damage reports.

  In the distance, a siren went off. It was a long, keening wail which these days usually meant that another apartment building had either collapsed or the crack sensors on its outer walls had flexed too far for safety and triggered an alarm. Fire & Rescue were likely rushing to evacuate the place. The residents would have to fend for themselves. I hope they all put together emergency kits of food, clothing, money, ID and valuables like the government has been recommending, Doug thought, or they’re going to be in really tough straits in the morning. He was thankful his own building was solid. Aside from a few small cracks in a couple of interior walls, there was no major damage thus far.

  Deal with FLO ‒ that was the order given to Doug. It was an absurdly optimistic term. FLO’s civilization was more advanced, more peaceful, and its population healthier and better fed, with almost no poverty. Above it all stood Mekhos. Doug shook his head as he looked out over the DC night sky. FLO was likely quite content to carry on with that existence, with little more than a pitying nod to its poor new relative.

  It was a clear night, but ominously dark despite the city lights. When Doug had insomnia back in Hawaii he would venture out to his deck, the moon sometimes so bright he could read a newspaper by it once his eyes adjusted. Now that was impossible. He felt a chill and momentarily claustrophobic thinking about a nightfall outside the city with no Moon to ever relieve the inky blackness. The building shook yet again, and Doug gripped the wide balcony
rail to feel the movement. It felt, through his bare hand, like the subterranean rumbling of an unhappy giant. Mother Earth is deeply disturbed.

  He was a highly respected scientist and astronomer. He knew his lunar tables, so he stared at a patch of black sky where the Moon should be. All he could see was blackness and a panorama of faint pinpoints. A billion, billion stars, but no Moon any more. The Moon that had guided ancient sailors, and the Moon that had influenced the evolution of life and shepherded proto-humans throughout their development, casting its light on the earth since before life began, was gone. Stolen by an implacable adversary. Our own planet has become strange to us. All those billions of people who never had to think about their place in the cosmos have suddenly been shown that they’re all just insignificant ants on a barely habitable ball hurtling through space alongside new neighbors with the power to take whatever they want from us.

  On that terrible first day, the Moon had gotten noticeably smaller in the sky. By the sixth day it was no longer visible without a telescope. Observatories and news services around the world gave constant reports on its recession, regular reminders to the people of what they had lost. As if the pitch black nights weren’t enough, he thought.

  Even now, despite the fate it had wrought upon Earth, Doug was impressed by the power of Mekhos. A computer based on qubit, on quantum mechanics instead of silicon, it was millions of times faster than the fastest computer on Earth. According to the Envoy, Mekhos had attained sentience. The power Mekhos wielded was almost indescribable. It had the power to manipulate space, which it had done to save its planet from a predicted catastrophic gamma ray burst that would have destroyed all life.