METEOR STORM

by David Capps

  “Oh man,” Leroy said, “how ya goin’ to tell it it was dead?”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. Even though the robot’s head was just a piece of hardware, it was beginning to feel like a real person. There was no other way than to spell it out.

  I typed, The only thing we have is your head. Nothing else is attached to it except this computer.

  Acknowledged appeared on the computer screen. Why is everything so different?

  I typed, We recovered your head from the moon. You are back on Earth. You have been without power for at least 10,000 years.

  This time there was no immediate response.

  I typed, What was the last thing you remember before being connected to this computer?

  The meteor storm appeared on the screen.

  I typed, What happened?

  I was assigned to mining operations on the moon. We were extracting titanium, iron, silicon and boron for transport back to earth. The Earth passed through a section of the galaxy that contained a large cloud of small pieces of debris. We didn’t detect it until it was too late. The meteors started to impact the Earth and the moon. We were unprepared for the devastation that was raining down from the sky. Only the settlement on Mars was functioning. Did it survive? appeared on the screen.

  They had a settlement on Mars? How advanced were they? They obviously were capable of interplanetary travel and colonization. What else could they do? Being directly involved in the Mars Rover and Observer programs, I knew there were ancient ruins and huge stone structures on the surface, but it was half covered in sand and dust. Nothing had been cleaned or maintained in thousands of years.

  I typed, The settlement on Mars is no longer functioning.

  Then everything was lost appeared on the screen.

  I began thinking about our own history, how we believe we started out living in caves, using stone instruments to hunt and gather food. What if we didn’t start out there? What if that was where a remnant of humanity survived the meteor storm?

  I typed, How long ago was this?

  Unable to determine appeared on the screen.

  There had to be some way of figuring out how long ago this all happened. If the meteors were in a specific section of the galaxy and the Earth passed through that section, it could happen again.

  I typed, What was the location in the galaxy where this happened?

  I received a set of coordinates from the robot’s head, but none of it made any sense. It was in a system totally unknown to me. I typed a request for alignments of various stars and celestial objects related to the coordinates provided. The robot’s head provided a substantial list of alignments. This was going to take some research to figure out. Fortunately, NASA was the place to do precisely that.

  I knew Woolser would have a flag on my regular login, but I also had a covert login he didn’t know about thanks to the people who placed me at NASA. I logged in covertly and accessed the celestial mapping program. After inputting the alignment of Polaris, Vega, and several other stars I recognized the program provided the other alignments and a date: 61,285 BCE.

  So the robot’s head was 63,000 years old, not 10,000. Somebody built it to last. If the robot was on the moon when the meteor storm struck, it would be hard to estimate its age. In the vacuum on the surface of the moon there would be no oxygen; nothing would rust or oxidize, so all of the time markers we use to date things on the Earth, like oxidation, wouldn’t apply. And if the robot’s head was buried in a collapsed building, it would have been protected from small meteor impacts and radiation. It would have been perfectly preserved, at least until the impact that created the crater in which it was found, and who knows when that was?

  “Are you shittin’ me, man?” Leroy said from behind me. “61,000 BC?”

  “Yep,” I replied, “over 63,000 years ago. Look at the percentage of match.”

  “98%?” Leroy said. “What does that mean?”

  “Let me try something,” I replied. I typed the date of 61,280 BCE into the program. It would take increments of only five years at this time range. Comparing the position to our current galactic position gave us a 96.7% match. I entered 61,290 BCE and ran a comparison: 97% match.

  “That’s less both times. Why is it doing that?” Leroy asked.

  “Five years ago the match was 96.7%,” I explained. “Right now it’s 98%. In five years it will move away from a positional match and be at 97%. That means the true matching position will peak either this year or next year. We’re right back in the path of the meteor storm. It will hit this year or next year at the latest.”

  “So you’re saying the stars move and this thing doesn’t?” Leroy asked.

  “You catch on fast,” I replied. “What I learned from NASA is that stars move in the galaxy because they have mass, weight, and they have magnetic fields. That’s what creates gravity. The meteor cloud has very little mass and no magnetic field, so it’ll stay in the same place. The Sun and the Earth will pass through the same place in the galaxy. That meteor cloud is going to be there, and we’re headed right back into it.”

  “So we’re all gonna die?” Leroy asked.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I spent the night pacing back and forth inside my apartment. What if the information from the robot’s head wasn’t correct? What if the meteor cloud had moved and we were in no danger at all? What if it was there and no one would listen? Would people believe what came out of a 63,000 year old piece of hardware that shouldn’t exist, or that there was an advanced civilization that long ago that was millennia ahead of ours and all but disappeared in a cataclysmic event leaving almost nothing behind? Is this even believable to me? There were so many questions and so few answers.

  At about four in the morning, I realized it all came down to how deeply I believed the information. If I had any doubts at all, then how could I convince anyone else? And if I doubted the information, then what business did I have trying to convince anyone else? I reviewed everything I had learned from the robot’s head. It had been a stretch for me to firmly believe all of the information, but it did have its own logic to it. And if it was all true, it answered a lot of questions about our distant past as human beings and why we lived in caves. It was just so different from what we normally believe that I knew there would be a lot of resistance to accepting all of it. I had resisted believing all of it. But deep in my heart I knew it was real. Once I realized that, I knew what I had to do.

  I don’t consider myself to be the heroic type. I learned a long and painful lesson from that; fighting the system ends in failure, so I don’t do it anymore. But here I am, back in the same place again, realizing the system is wrong and I am the only one with the knowledge and the skills to actually do something that will make a difference. Woolser wasn’t going to stick his neck out to help anyone but himself, so that’s out. I texted some friends asking how they would get a critical message out to the world. It was a tossup between YouTube and the Cy Cobb Show, which I had never seen. I thought television might have more credibility than YouTube, so I called early in the morning. Besides, placing myself squarely in the public eye would be the only protection I would get from the people who would want me back in prison, or worse. The risk to me personally was extreme, but the risk to the planet from the meteor storm was even more extreme.

  I explained what I wanted to a receptionist, an assistant in production, and then to Cyrus Cobb’s assistant. “Can you hold?” she asked, “I think he is going to want to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” What else was I going to do?

  “This is Cy, what’s your background?” He had a pleasant, almost charming quality to his voice with a slight Australian accent to it.

  “I graduated from MIT with a degree in Electrical Engineering and a Master’s in Computer Science. I’ve been an engineer at NASA for the past three years. I write programs for the Mars Rovers.”

  “Great,” Cy replied, “And you think the world is going to e
nd?” He came across as sincere and caring. I felt comfortable sharing details with him, even though I didn’t really know him.

  “I came across reliable information about a meteor cloud that will impact the Earth within the next year or two. It has the potential to destroy everything on the planet.” My heart was thumping in my chest. What I was telling him was really out there, idea-wise. My hope was that he would take a chance and believe me.

  “And this can be verified?” he asked. I couldn’t tell him about the robot’s head without sounding like a complete lunatic, so I relied on the next best piece of information I had. “It’s not showing up on our long distance space radar yet, but that isn’t surprising because the objects are small by astronomical standards, but by the time they do show up, it’ll be too late. People need to be warned now while there is still time to prepare.”

  “Are you a regular viewer of my show?” he asked.

  Here it comes, I thought, he’s going to discount everything I said to him. “No, sorry to say, I’m not. Does that matter to you?”

  “No, no, not at all. This is exactly the kind of information my show was created to find and get out to the public. Could you be in the studio at six tomorrow morning for my show? I want people to hear this directly from you, the source.”

  Relief flooded through me. He believes me. “I don’t know. I’m in California and I don’t even know where you and your studio are located.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. We’re in Atlanta. I can have you on a plane this afternoon and you can stay in a nice hotel tonight, limo to the studio in the morning, all our expense. Deal?”

  Finally, I’d be able to share this information in public. After that the responsibility for knowing about the meteor storm wouldn’t be depending solely on me. “Deal.” I replied.

  I got the details from his assistant and started packing for the trip. This could work.

  * * *

  I had never been in a television studio before. What passed for a relatively large stage was in fact rather small. The background was made to look further away by perspective lines and shrunken features like fake windows and outdoor scenes behind them. It looked strange until I remembered that a camera doesn’t have any depth perception. After going through makeup and some prep discussions we were finally ready to go.

  Cy entered the stage as the director counted down from five to one.

  “Welcome to today’s show,” he said as the applause from the small live audience died down. “With me today is renegade NASA engineer Carl Palminteri to tell us about the end of the world. Carl?”

  Here I am trying to warn people of what’s coming and all of a sudden I’m a renegade? What was he doing? I struggled to regain some sense of composure.

  “I’m not a renegade, but I came across some important information regarding a very large meteor storm that is threatening the earth and I believe people should know about it before it’s too late.”

  “Like the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs?” Cy asked.

  “No. That was a single, very large asteroid,” I answered, “This is actually a massive cloud of billions of meteors that the Earth will pass through within the next two years.”

  “And you know this because?” Cy asked.

  “It’s happened before,” I replied, “Sixty three thousand years ago the earth passed through the same meteor cloud. There was a very advanced civilization existing at the time, much more advanced than we are today. The meteor storm destroyed everything that had been built and accomplished at that time. According to the research I have done, less than a thousand people survived the meteor storm.”

  “In what country?” Cy asked.

  “On the entire planet.” I replied.

  “Less than a thousand people survived on the entire planet?”

  “That’s correct,” I answered. “The only people to survive were those who sought shelter in caves. That’s why our scientists believe we started out as cave dwellers. We didn’t start out in caves; we survived the meteor storm there.”

  “And this so-called advanced civilization, where was it supposed to be?” Cy asked.

  “Where India is now.”

  “Isn’t that civilization just a myth?”

  “Well it’s certainly presented that way, but from what I’ve learned and the evidence I have, it’s as real as the world we know today.”

  “And what, or who is your source for this information?”

  “I can’t really give you that. The source is classified and I am not authorized to divulge it at this time.” I hoped that slight lie would make this whole thing sound more credible.

  “What do you think people should do about this meteor storm?”

  “The only chance we have for survival is an underground shelter or cave. All of our buildings and infrastructure will be destroyed. The more dirt and concrete you can have between you and the meteorites the better.”

  “Exactly when do you believe this meteor storm is going to happen?” Cy asked.

  “Soon,” I replied. “It could happen any day now, but certainly within the next two years at the latest.”

  Cy turned toward the camera. “Will the Earth really be destroyed? The answer to that question right after the break.” Cy turned back to me and shook my hand. “Great job,” he said. “Thanks for being here today.” He pointed off the stage and a stage hand escorted me to the door of the studio.

  * * *

  I stood in the lobby of the studio watching a television monitor waiting for the commercials to end. I wanted to see what was next on the show. Cy’s question, “will the Earth really be destroyed” had me puzzled.

  “Welcome back,” Cy said to the audience. “My next guest is Doctor Shelden Woolser from NASA.”

  Oh no! I thought. Could this get any worse?

  “Doctor Woolser, is the world really going to end?” Cy asked.

  “Certainly not,” Woolser said. “There is no evidence whatsoever of any kind of a meteor storm, or anything else for that matter.”

  “Well, what about Mr. Palminteri’s claims?” Cy asked.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Palminteri has suffered some sort of mental meltdown,” Woolser replied. “He was reassigned from his regular work because of an emotional break down last month. He was required to attend weekly sessions with our staff psychologist, but has failed to show up for any of his appointments. Unfortunately we have had no other option than to terminate his employment at NASA.”

  “And his classified source for the information on the meteor storm?” Cy asked.

  “Mr. Palminteri wrote computer programs for the accounting department. He had no security clearance and no access to classified materials. I’m afraid this is all a figment of Mr. Palminteri’s imagination.”

  I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy. I couldn’t take any more. I walked out the door of the studio and headed back to the hotel. I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but they were about to do just that.

  CHAPTER 5

  Two hours later, I was in a bar down the street from the hotel working on my fourth whiskey sour. I still had three hours before I had to be at the airport for my flight back to California. Sports were on the television set above the bar, so I was spared any dialog about my humiliation on the Cy Cobb show.

  I became aware of a man standing next to me and looked up at him. He was tall and well dressed in an expensive three piece suit, classy shoes and short dark hair. He didn’t have a tan, so he wasn’t from around here. He also looked seriously out of place in a sports bar. He stared down at my travel bag next to the bar stool and then looked back at me.

  “Carl Palminteri, I presume?” he said.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “I’m thinking we can help each other out here.” I looked around the bar to see if anyone else was listening. It looked like it was just the two of us.

  “I’ve already been helped out of my job, what do you want to help me out of now?”

  He smiled, “May I?�
�� he said as he motioned to the stool next to mine.

  “Whatever,” I said as I waved my hand toward the stool. I downed the last of my drink and motioned to the bartender for another.

  “I saw you on the Cy Cobb show,” he said. “How did you know about the meteor storm?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “It does to me.”

  I looked at him again. He didn’t seem aggressive, nor interested in continuing my humiliation.

  “And why would you want to hear anything I might have to say after the Cy Cobb show?”

  “Because it’s classic deny and ridicule strategy. They use it to discredit real information when it opposes the existing paradigm.”

  “Deny and…”

  “Ridicule,” he said. “Very effective in the public forum.”

  “Yeah, you got that part right,” I replied, taking another sip of my drink.

  “So how did you know about the meteor storm?” he asked again.

  Maybe it was the alcohol; maybe I just didn’t have anything else left to lose. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time,” he said.

  I stared at him for a moment. He seemed honestly interested.

  “What the hell, why not?” I replied. I told him about the robot’s head being found on the moon, and how I ended up with it in the Clark Street Storage Facility.

  “And the missed appointments with the shrink?” he asked.

  “There never were any appointments, Woolser lied.”

  He opened his cell phone and punched in a number. “Activate Project Ark,” he said, “threat level one, event type meteor storm, authorization Yankee, Zulu, Zulu, Omega.” He closed his phone and looked straight at me.