The Unlicensed Consciousness

by Travis Borne

  Amy looked up to him with a smile bigger than the universe. In her eyes, he saw the trust and love she bestowed unto him. A rage formed. He filled his giant lungs with air. His heart pumped with a resolve like no previous time in his life; a protective rage that would go to the ends of the earth for this little girl, and his muscles tightened at the thought. Now, he knew his purpose and nothing would get in his way. And he realized right then, why Herald had chosen him. I will destroy anything that ever tries to harm them. I will be their protector. I will put their lives before mine. And nothing—will ever stop me! A tear signified his unstoppable will and got lost in his short, neatly trimmed beard, and he smiled at Amy. An unbreakable bond was made.

  Ana arrived and climbed up to Valerie, who was feeling a little better after watching Jerry with the tiny girl who barely reached his knees. She watched him get emotional, she saw his flooded eyes and how he was around Amy, and this side of him, although not completely new to her, refilled her hope and left warm feelings in her heart. Ana put an arm around her. They talked for the rest of the afternoon. The temperature fell as the sun descended then Jon, Jodi, and Herald came down the path toward the lake just as they were getting ready to head up to the cabin. Jerry and Amy had caught several fresh fish for dinner.

  “It’s ready to go,” Herald announced, and Amy ran to his arms. She was wet and overexcited and carried her fish. He couldn’t help but laugh as she slimed him with it. “Better get you up to the cabin, Sweetie Pie, before it gets cold out.” There was an arriving chill to the air.

  “Look, Daddy. I catch this, a big one!” Herald hugged her and lifted her onto his hip.

  “Everyone gather round, please,” he continued. “Okay, we break radio silence later tonight. There’s a lot of chaos out there right now, Rafael should be able to keep our transmission hidden within it. Valerie, we are going to save your parents. We’ll be well cloaked while flying and the increased amount of air traffic will make us a single invisible fish in a very large pond. I’m sorry that I can’t save everyone, but like I told Jon long ago—this day was always inevitable, and we’ll do everything we can.” Jon nodded.

  “What time we leaving?” Jerry asked.

  “We’ll be flying out at 6 a.m. to get a good head start, so be ready.”

  “We’re just gonna hide out while they all—”

  “Valerie,” Herald interrupted. “We can only do so much—but yes. A lot depends on the success of another very large part of our plan as to exactly how many can be saved.” Valerie melted into Jerry’s strong arms, but this time not with tears, with love and a spark of hope. Jerry nodded as if to say thank you, for whatever can be done, and the serious look in his eyes said, you can count on me. Herald had the gift of an extremely perspicacious mind, and had always known that when the time came, he would be able to count on Jerry. “We must be strong, all of us.” He turned to Valerie. “The blocker I’m giving your family is a very special device. You will talk to them tonight. Tell them to get as far away from the city as possible and to stick together, close to the blocker at all costs. It sounds like, from your story about Felix, his bunker would be the perfect place for them to go. If they can’t catch a flight, tell them to steal one. With the pedal to the metal they should be able to make it before the launch.” But, he knew, it was going to be a close call for them.

  Jodi had seen the ship, and its lending modifications; Jon had slipped out to get her earlier. She rode the elevator located deeper within the bunker they’d first seen, behind the army of bots, high into the mountain, to the ship ready to burst from the mountainside and swoosh through the obscuring the pines. It looked fast, stealthy, capable. She also saw the living quarters and the supply room, food for all of them, for a hundred years—more. Books, movies, games; Herald really had prepared for this. The complexity of the base gave her confidence and she passed it on to Valerie with the best, mot-juste words she could. But Valerie was better now. Ana and she had talked in Spanish for a long while, and she seemed to display a new sense of inner strength and readiness. Ana had that power; she was good at soothing people’s nerves and adjusting perspectives to the side of optimism.

  The rest of the day and evening, bad thoughts left the group. They met lenders Red and his wife Maggie, and later four others. Everyone got acquainted with each other. They made it a point to enjoy the time they had, and nothing was taken for granted. Nestled in the mountains, outdoors in the dry spring air, it turned out to be a perfect day. Would it really, be the last?

  The sun set and final preparations were completed. The cabins above were abandoned. All eight lenders had finished transferring to the main bunker, clearing out cabins #4 through #7, and Herald and Ana led the group deeper into the facility, to their rooms. The steel door beside the break room opened to a long underground hallway, and the facility expanded deeper into the mountain than anyone had previously seen. Inside was a master kitchen, a gym, a swimming pool—NO TELEVISIONS but there was a movie room—even an adventure room for Amy with slides and tree houses. Herald gave a quick tour: where they would be living for possibly a very long time, then, an early good night. Everyone had a synchronized InstaRest pad and there was no delay in using it. Only Rafael stayed up. Through the night he made burritos and took care of any other last minutes he could think of.

  99. Wednesday

  Wednesday morning was delivered by Time the Juggernaut—unstoppable, unpreventable. By 5:30 a.m. everyone was dressed and as ready as a person could be for such a day. They joined Herald and Ana who were already in the break room, sipping coffee. Herald held Amy; she was sound asleep on his lap. And he suggested sleep. There would be time during the flight for anyone who wanted to, and he offered coffee for those who wanted to stay awake. Jerry took some, as well as Jon, the girls declined, they’d try to sleep. Rafael walked over from the lending area where two lenders lay sleeping. He offered the basic breakfast he’d prepared: burritos (bean and cheese, or egg with bell peppers), juice, plus a banana. A bot named Steve was online and remained at the control panel in the lending area; he was Rafael’s foremost assistant and would remain activated while Herald and the team were gone.

  Everyone ate a little. Jerry ate what Valerie didn’t finish. Noticing Amy sleep, Jodi smiled. Ana admitted it would be best she stay asleep, that she dreamt extensively during the late morning hours and would be a little grumpy if she didn’t have a hundred stories for Daddy. Then Jon flipped on the TV. Herald frowned, but realized Jon needed a bridge to the world—and there it was…

  If a 400-foot tall giant had found it, he’d probably fuck it. Sexy, steaming, statuesque. An elongated egg between two turquoise-glowing maws, portals hungry and primed, ready to devour space and time. And it stood poised—taller than the 400-foot-tall horny ogre who might stumble upon it—a middle finger saying, fuck you, Universe, here we come. The facilities and structures supporting it were just as immense.

  Warp-1 was as sleek as a spaceship could be. At its center was a polished-to-perfection bluish-silver globe; copious view ports wrapped its lines of latitude. The news camera zoomed in close enough to see specks of humans and bots walking around inside brightly lit spaces. And the sphere seemingly floated between the ship’s toothsome contours, making for a symmetrical central bulge containing all manned areas of the ship, and it could rotate as needed to simulate gravity during non-warp travel. Inside that, even the rooms themselves could rotate and be positioned. And pop-ups continued to mottle the screen with particulars.

  But as obtrusive as the pop-ups were, the ship’s majesty made them the edges of blurry tunnel vision. The galactic hotrod gleamed. Its rich pearl luster bedazzled. And stamped with only one emblem, the Earth flag, it was twice as large as the largest ship to ever launch from Earth. Far too heavy for the space elevator, two immense booster rockets stood at attention, ready to escort it the traditional way. A bright blue beam stamped the launch pad; cold, cascading steam dispersed its glow. Another electric-blue beam, brighter than that of the risi
ng sun, streamed into space, pointing the way. Wolf-like in design, bold, ravenous and ready to eat, the hungry warp drive consisted of two main parts, front and rear, ready to force the universe out and ride the edge of physical reality—border a realm of two dimensions. Cheating, as some described the process, but a fantastic solution agreed upon by all: duck aside the physical constraints of known perception, ride the razor in a frictionless bubble. The only thing faster, perhaps, wormhole travel—and that was next. Already in the works, WARP-2 was nearing completion in Japan. A special moment indeed. Now humanity would finally bend the universe to their will. And the world celebrated and cheered at the glorious achievement, boasting with resplendent pride.

  The countdown ticked away at the top of the screen in bright-green letters, and alerts with semi-translucent news banners scrolled along the bottom. Pop-ups were borderline, no, they were annoying, yet informative. And, to finish exploiting every pixel of the screen, plentiful were the live social-media streams: Humanity rules. We did it. Take to the stars and never look back. Nothing can stop us now, we’re becoming Gods. Fuck God! And: Watch out universe—here we come!

  Maggie and Blanca, wives of the two lenders going on the trip, arrived escorted by helper-bot Blaire. Both were obviously pregnant, and it was clear they’d both went through a teary-eyed goodbye, moments earlier. Herald nodded as they passed, and they headed into the new living area. Blaire took her spot and deactivated.

  The countdown read 2 hours 20 minutes and counting. As marvelous as it was to witness, it meant little to the group for their plan was set, and, they'd heard enough. Jon switched it off. Let’s do this. Focused and as ready as they’d ever be, the team, now a family, came together around the table.

  They went over the day’s plans one final time.

  The rescue of Valerie’s parents was planned for one hour before the launch, which was set to go up at 10 a.m. Eastern time (7 a.m. Pacific time). They’d arrive in about one hour, around 6 a.m. Los Angeles time; sunrise for LA being 5:50 a.m. A small baseball field near Valerie’s parents’ house was chosen for their rendezvous.

  Although Herald never told anyone, he needed Ana for his sanity. She was his polar opposite and her mere presence soothed his anxiety. But if anyone didn’t have at least some anxiety for this moment, they weren’t alive. Also, he never disclosed fully, why everyone had to go on the trip; one, to stay together, just in case; two, he wasn’t 100% sure that the bunker had been kept a total secret, and if they’d been found out the machines would blow the entire mountain from the face of the planet. In that worst-case scenario, or in case anything went wrong during the flight, his backup plan was to dig in and hide.

  Rafael was staying back, along with six lenders who would work continuously in rotation; they were enough to empower the facility’s systems, every bot, and then some. If he needed any help, he could put another bot online. Rafael was essential to the most important part of the plan, which had the potential to save the most lives, although Herald’s mission had to succeed in order for it to be implemented fully. Rafael was preparing to read then decipher a signal—a signal he declared, that should present itself soon, a signal that would alert the artificially-intelligent machines, activating their unification. This, signal, would tell the machines preparations are complete, and instruct them to commence with the attack: their very own version of The Wipe. Those insidious instincts Herald had pulled from the depths of the inchoate version of Rafael in the cold basement, would be elevated to the forefront of each and every artificially intelligent mind, amplified. And utter havoc would ensue. The grand scheme was a star-sized ocean of eyes, and this, would be one blink from one. Just the way of it.

  Creating a hacked signal was the objective.

  But it was a guess.

  Broadcasting it would, should, establish a safe zone. It was a long shot but Herald counted on it. If successful—providing the mountain didn’t get blown to kingdom come, first—it would afford much of the western US a chance, a moment, a small window of opportunity to assemble at least some sort of resistance.

  The camouflaged bay door opened and the hover-jet soared silently through the pines, then up and into the purple morning sky. The sun was a red sliver on the horizon and they were about to play a game of chase with it. Fifteen thousand feet in the air, and a good distance from the mountain bunkers—BLAST OFF!

  100. The Launch

  The yellow ball of fire shredded a blanket of angry red-orange and black clouds; debris discharged from the explosion like glowing buckshot. Across the way arms rose to shield faces, others dove to the ground. A mother huddled to shield her daughters. A father made himself a human blanket for his son. The launch pad was a nuclear fist punching the sky. The rushing superheated air forced hair back and stretched faces into pizzas with no cheese, then to skulls a millisecond later. And the hundred-mile-per-hour wind threw carbonized spectators like fleas. A deadly tsunami of fire followed up with one engulfing wipe. The Florida coast was evaporated for thirty miles in every direction. Over a million attending spectators went from solid to sizzle; the nearest were gaseous before an eye could blink. But, WARP-1 had made it. Houston sighed a grand sigh of relief. It was far away from the blast, piercing the sky toward space—with an hour head start.

  Halfway there, it too exploded. As if meticulously planned, the ideal distance made for maximum destruction. Then, less than a minute later, ten miles due east of the launch pad in the ocean, the fusion power station that had been built to jump start the warp core, went next. This one made the first explosion seem like a paper-popper’s snap.

  In Tennessee, “Gary, come inside now!” a grandmother yelled. She saw the kitchen of her RV become bright as if she’d switched on some sort of high-frequency strobe. Grandma hurried outside to get her grandson, and as the holograms of the green and tan army men beaming into the sandbox from Gary’s device seemingly aimed their exacerbated pandemonium at little Gary, they both looked up. This second flash was infinitely brighter. The image was a hot-needle injection to the eyes. It mangled their retinal nerves like molten knives being twisted in all directions, and they would never see anything again. The little boy cried a screeching cry and pushed his knuckles into his eyes, and Grandma fell to her knees, then forward, passing out, the old-lady skin drooping from her face sunburnt and bleeding.

  Any that saw it from the entire southeast became groping bats in a cave that Hell itself had just entered. The ocular executioner was a hot flash seen as far as Tennessee; beyond that the luminous white horizon outperformed the yellow-bulb morning sun. The entire eastern seaboard had been enjoying a high-pressure cloudless spring morning, for had it been cloudy, millions would be able to see what came next.

  A pressure washer of fire sterilized the earth. A third of Florida was destroyed in the blast, which spread like a mad herd of bison in every direction. From space it was seen as a 200-mile-diameter and growing inferno. Within its border the color changed as though lenses were being swapped: from white hot, through the full spectrum of scorching colors, to charred black, splotched with embers that were follow-up explosions. The Atlantic steamed for a hundred miles. The water boiled. Tankers tipped like inkwells. Fish floated and fishermans’ vessels, puny or grand, sank. Whales breaching the surface were akin to submarines that’d blown their ballast tanks. They became distended and white, like hot bubbles bursting in a mushroom-beige bog of puss, gases and guts expelled. Some went off like a pressure-cooker exploding, spewing grey noodles and their red diluted geysers.

  The ozone layer and the upper atmosphere beyond was an open window and radiation beamed through. The red viscera blanketed the ocean, now a milky film of microwaved guts, white and hard like boiled chicken chunks. Rays superheated the pasty sea and blackened the land. Gas stations went up like firecrackers and nuclear plants rose like bottle rockets.

  Every failsafe WARP-1 had to prevent a catastrophe so extreme had been hacked—as simply as a child adds 2+2 on a calculator—then disabled and exploited.
The sudden detonation of the warp engine disturbed even time itself, sending a warbling tremor deep into the world. The Earth’s crust was a thin layer of glass; its solid core was a hot lead gong; both met a sledge hammer and the mantle in between, got mad.

  And then the EMP had its turn. With an incomprehensible magnitude, the electromagnetic pulse destroyed electronics for more than 1,200 miles in every direction—except for that of the bots. Somehow, with some sort of frequency cancellation, they’d been ready for it.

  If only that was the worst of it…

  Sweden imploded; a quick snap of darkness in a nanosecond clap. A chunk of China followed, along with the Great Wall; its anomaly was twice as large. The world’s two largest Hadron colliders were, like WARP-1, also hacked, and dissembled into something abominable. The calculated succession of the snaps seemed intentionally wavelike, too. The effect was not dissimilar to getting a car unstuck after a few back-and-forth heaves, except this push contained enough energy to bully the big marble that was the earth. The sudden loss of mass, and succession of the one-two punch, shifted Earth’s axis from the standard 23 degrees to 1 degree. Like a black flashbulb each was instantaneous, yet collapsed just as fast, stealing a country-sized ball of land. Purposefully devised blackholes—execrable weapons, such as mankind’s contribution, the atomic bomb—but this weapon dug semi-spherical craters miles deep, for hundreds of miles wide.