by J P Whitney
Everyone was thinking it, but Ruth was the first to ask, “Can you see any patterns as to who doesn’t trust the system or is it random?”
As though ED3N had expected this question, “Approximately two-thirds of the civil defense team no longer trust the system. I should also mention that nearly seventy-five percent of the other staff types now feel safer.”
Terry had a great poker face, but Ruth noted his eyes betrayed the way he really felt. It was difficult to tell from the tough outer shell of stoic resolve but underneath was a layer of agitation. Or was it something more? Fear? Was Terry scared of ED3N?
Mark couldn’t wait any longer and directed his words at Terry, “I don’t understand. The security forces feel LESS secure after that successful simulation? We have the ability to test each potential citizen for not only the virus but also how well they will integrate into this new society. And especially after how well the troops and ED3N responded to everything you threw at them. How could anyone possibly have less trust in the system now?”
Terry’s voice was calm and even as he replied, “These findings don't surprise me at all. The security teams agree with the concept of this city but strongly disagree with how the technology is starting to be used. The machines and operating system should be tools that make life easier for humans, but not control our lives. Drones are a perfect example. The remote controls allow the pilot to remain out of harm’s way while the aircraft does the dirty work. But soldiers determine where to fly and when to take action. In this way, the drone becomes an extension of the human. But what we witnessed out there was a unilateral security decision by ED3N. I wasn’t consulted nor were any of my lieutenants or their troops. Ruth, were you asked before the additional 700 bots were deployed? Did ED3N consult with you before opening fire with live 30 mm rounds or tasing our mock attackers?”
“No, I wasn’t consulted, but to be honest I felt ED3N stepped in when human emotions and judgment failed. The defense team hesitated when you ordered two battalions of armed soldiers to attack innocent civilians. ED3N reacted as intended … she protected human lives.”
Ruth was making his point for him. “I wasn’t testing the troop’s ability to resist an attack. We didn’t even instruct them how to handle a hostile situation let alone the taking of hostages. The attack teams didn’t even know their true role until seconds before. I was testing how far ED3N would go. And in my opinion, the system failed. I also can’t help noticing you are referring to the system as a person by calling it SHE,” Terry emphasized this last point.
Mark felt compelled to come to Ruth’s aid, “Oh come on Terry. You know people refer to their weapons, boats, and cars as ‘she’ all the time. But you are missing the point. ED3N didn’t need instructions on how to deal with a hostile situation. She knew exactly what needed to be done to keep the fake refugees safe without even harming the attackers. She took the simulation seriously and showed all of us just how capable the system is.”
“You just said the operative word. Weapon. ED3N may have several redeeming qualities including an incredibly efficient reaction to real-world situations, but SHE is also an extremely powerful weapon.” Terry warned.
To that Mark had to defend against Terry’s blatant attack on the system, “ED3N isn’t a weapon. If anything it is a home security system scaled out for an entire city. Look at autonomous driving cars. There has been an insignificant number of auto-related crashes that were caused by self-driving cars. Most accidents result from human drivers crashing into autonomous vehicles. Provided with the rules of the road and artificial intelligence systems follow them perfectly. Without human error. ED3N followed a similar protocol and protected hundreds of citizens at once. Not just the occupants of a solitary vehicle. Her abilities are nothing short of miraculous.”
Terry was done with this academic exercise of trying to justify each position. They clearly had different viewpoints of what constituted protection and safety. After all his years of training and battle-honed intuition, one thing remained certain. You never willingly relinquished military control. Lines were being drawn and it was time to make difficult decisions before it was too late. “I don't want to talk about it here. Meet me in the outer ring.” And Terry strode out of the room without another word. They could follow him or not. His mind was made up.
Chapter 31
Musings of an 18-YEAR-old
9/14/21 – Tommy’s Tabor Mountain blog entry (as written by Tucker Olsen)
Date
Event
Deaths
5/28/21
Jonathan dies in Bryce’s class
* 530 cases
6/30/21
State of Emergency Declared
100,000
7/3/21
Mandatory Home Quarantines
200,000
7/14/21
Tabor Mountain Isolation
218,400
7/15/21
Day 2 ramblings
247,517
7/17/21
Rules to live by
321,415
7/27/21
Unexpected Visitor
727,040
8/3/21
War Zone
15,000,000+
8/12/21
Code Blue
Billions & Billions Served
9/7/21
Labor Day
Deluxe Garden Harvest Edition
9/14/21
Final Entry
Musings of an 18-year-old
Status update:
Well look at that, 2 months have passed since we’ve entered home quarantine. So if it’s true that time flies when you’re having fun this must be a miserable experience because it seems like we’ve been isolated on our property for 2 years. Sure, mourning the loss of our parents has something to do with it, but there’s little to gauge the passing of time. There’s no need to look at the calendar so as we begin to enter fall, it seems more relevant to think in terms of seasons.
The only supply update worth mentioning is we’ve officially run out of meat. Bryce and I will need to get serious about hunting now. The koi fish are safe for the time being but they should be nervous! ☺
Observations:
Speaking of 2 months already passing us by, I looked back at some of the earliest blog entries and found it interesting that dad mentioned possibly using this blog site as an electronic swap meet or bulletin board. He thought we’d only be isolated for 30 days, at the time, but was already planning for a much longer duration. He really was a ‘scenario boy’ as mom liked to call him. Well, his forethought is becoming a reality of sorts. Here we are a full month past the quarantine date and beginning to run out of certain supplies. But we have become resourceful and leaning on Mother Nature to provide.
Cell towers aren’t completely dead, but there is no phone service for some strange reason, so we’ve resorted to instant messaging for real-time communications. At least for as long as ED3N can keep the 5G data network powered. But this site still serves the initial purpose of being able to trade goods with each other with the added layer of ‘trusted party’. I urge everyone still reading this blog to keep your friends close and be suspicious of new members that want to meet in person or IM one on one. There’s a few of us that have each other’s backs, let’s keep it that way.
Taking over for dad has been a difficult responsibility I haven’t taken lightly. I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and sad to say this probably will be my last blog post. Dad alluded to the dangers of blogging during these times in one of his earliest posts. He decided to ignore his own warning and established communication with other survivors believing it was worth the risk. It helped people see the deception about the vaccinations and put many of us in contact, but I’ve come to believe it is now too dangerous to let some of the more evil-minded survivors know your current status. If well stocked and prepared, you become a target. If struggling or alone you become an easier target.
With that in mind, future posts will be limited to t
he major change of events for the community as a whole. Emergencies only. If you subscribed to the blog, you’ll be alerted. Otherwise, I’m resorting to direct messaging with trusted contacts only. But I leave you with a few thoughts.
This world has been fractured into three clearly distinct classes, but I predict two of them will merge as one consumes the other. The three classes are all trying to survive but have very different philosophies about how to go about it.
The good: These people have become self-sufficient. They made plans for surviving. They’re hard-working and cooperative. There’s a strong sense of family and still compassionate. Many have become distant friends and neighbors thanks to the power of the internet and many have something worth trading for. Shotgun shells for rice or salt and all that. I put us squarely into this camp and we are still willing to help others. But we’ve become cautious. If this continues much longer I fear we’ll lose more and more of our good qualities as the days pass.
The bad: These people did not plan for survival. They didn’t plant food. They are scavengers. They expected the government to actually provide supply drops and stop the virus. But in defense of this class, they probably didn’t have the same financial means of those of us still living on our properties. So when their refrigerators and cupboards ran dry they started going door to door looking for supplies to steal from those that consumed by the virus. They put their own lives at risk every day as they encounter the infected bodies while searching for food. As the supplies become scarcer they will have a difficult decision to make. Do they beg for help from those more fortunate and as a result become a burden to us all? Do they just curl up and die? I think not. The will to live is too strong. I believe most will join forces with the next class if they haven’t already.
The ugly: We encountered the ugly for the first time when they attacked Eli in the orchard. Encountered them again while we searched for the miracle vaccine on the coast. Encountered? What a joke. Why can’t I say what really happened? We shot and killed these people in self-defense. How is it possible that times have changed so much that it is now acceptable to kill people? Because there is no one left to keep us safe or judge our actions? This is one of the key differences between the good and the ugly. The good still have a conscience. The ugly survive by taking from others. Living or dead. It doesn’t matter to the ugly. Like the bad, they didn’t plan for long term survival. But they adapt and they exploit. I fear there are many more of these people than the good.
If the bad join the ugly, we will surely be outnumbered. They will come. They will try to take everything we have by force. And that is what it will take. We will defend our land, and our families, to the death.
We are strong, but we are few.
So those of us still online have begun to ask the same question. ‘What comes next?’ Does it come down to a civil war of the haves vs. have nots? Survival of the fittest? That would become a miserable waste of the precious few lives left on this planet.
Comments/Observations from the Northwest: Sadly, I learned last week that one of the good families was attacked in a manner I just described. At least seven armed people invaded a self-sufficient family farm in Oregon. The only survivor was a girl who ran to another farm she knew about. That’s one more mouth to feed but her adoptive family is happy to do it. That’s a great example of the good. But the ugly are desperate and they are coming.
To the ugly reading this, internalize this one truth.
WE ARE READY AND WON’T CONCEDE ANYTHING EASILY. STICK TO LOOTING THE HOMES OF THE DEAD. YOU’LL LOSE LIVES TRYING TO TAKE WHAT IS OURS.
A final request: Oh internet god of tunes. We pray that you keep the music streaming indefinitely over the airwaves and through this site. It unites us to know that we are all hearing the same thing at the same time. We promise not to be picky but we reserve the right to continue posting requests so long as this site remains online.
So, how about ‘Animal I Have Become’ by Three Days Grace to lead us into the final section … of my final blog entry.
Musings of an 18-year-old:
Hopefully, the lyrics of this song will provide some perspective on what I’m feeling.
Will I recognize myself if I look in the mirror a year from now? Will I like who I've become? I'm trying to be a man but scared as hell for my life, my brother, and what we will face in the days to come. If we run out of food will we have the ability to remain one of the good ones? Or will we slide into the category of bad or ugly just to survive? I’ve already started having disturbing thoughts about the difficult choices ahead of us. The one we’ll have to deal with first is the fate of our dogs. When they run out of food what will we do? We can’t afford to feed them the little protein we have left so do we try to shoo them away and hope when they get hungry enough they will wander and search for food on their own? Do they still have instincts enough to hunt? The most humane thing may be to put them down as painlessly as possible to keep them from suffering from starvation. If we take this course, will we eat them so their death won’t be a complete waste? Such a depressing thought. I know these are adult problems, and are becoming necessary, but how I long to go back to being a boy.
Now I see why dad said this blog is like therapy. A place for facing the changes in one’s reflection we don’t want to admit seeing in the mirror but because we’re all struggling together it somehow justifies what we do and who we’ve become.
So here’s my final dark entry for the day. I’m beginning to feel like the human race is getting what we deserve from Mother Nature. Is it horrible to think this plague is cleansing and a good thing? Am I an evil bastard for allowing such thoughts to enter my head let alone express them openly? I feel like a monster.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want harm to befall anyone. I wish the billions were still alive and we still had the easy lives of just a few months ago. But as a whole, I think mankind falls more into the ‘ugly’ category than it does the ‘good’. Maybe the only ‘good’ civilizations were those that lived closest to nature. The Native Americans. The aborigines of Australia. The Mayans, Incas, and Aztecs. The tribes of the rain forests and the African plains. But they all lacked the technological advancements of the European-based civilizations and look what it got them. Most of them were slaughtered, infected, or enslaved. The earth has been polluted and destroyed. We’ve killed hundreds of millions in wars. We’ve used radiation and nerve gas and chemical warfare on each other. And finally, we’ve infected ourselves with a virus that has claimed nearly every single human life on this planet.
We’re being pushed to the brink of extinction and maybe that’s the way it should be because we’ve lost the right to inhabit Earth. We have not been good stewards. Maybe the world would be better off if humans were the next species to go the way of the dinosaurs.
∆∆∆
ATTENTION ALL SURVIVORS: THE SECURE COMMUNITY, CALLED ED3N, IS NEARING COMPLETION. DON’T DESPAIR OR GIVE UP NOW. WE HEAR YOUR STRUGGLES AND PAIN. BUT STEEL YOUR RESOLVE A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. IT WILL BE WORTH IT. WE’RE GOING TO NEED YOUR STRENGTH TO REBUILD SOCIETY AND SAVE HUMANITY.
Chapter 32
Message in a Bottle
The Olsen boys sat in the insulated garden room of the shop behind the house. Three years ago, the garden room had been set up as a functional kitchen with a hot plate, refrigerator, and sink while their house was being remodeled. They’d spent six months living out of the shop while a construction crew first completely gutted their house then slowly put it back together in a new configuration. What had been an out of date farmhouse was transformed into an energy-efficient ultra-modern single story. At the time, living out of the large garage felt like an extended camping trip for the boys. Not so much for their parents but had something to look forward to so it was worth it. Surprisingly, the time spent together in such a confined space actually brought the family closer together instead of getting on each other’s nerves. They shared meals, did homework, and played in this small room. At night they went ups
tairs into the windowless storage loft which they used as a sleeping room. Six whole months during the rainy Portland winter was a stupid time for construction but it harkened back to simpler times when multi-generational families shared one-room homes out of necessity and were happy just to have something to eat, family to share it with, and the strength to work their land.
Now the shop, and the garden room in particular, had become a safe haven. With their parents gone, Tucker became concerned that staying in their house at night was asking for trouble. As though the numerous floor to ceiling windows, designed to let in more sunlight, now had the opposite effect. Instead of letting the light in, they now allowed all the light, and hope, to escape into the cruel darkness of the night. Tucker thought his mother, if still here, would fear the warmth being emitted from their home would become a beacon for the less fortunate and evil-minded still roaming the planet. Afraid someone would see the light and be attracted to the energy and promise of food … like moths to a porch light.
And so, at night, the boys diligently turned off all the lights, bolted the locks, and retreated to the windowless shop with its metal walls and security doors. And its weapons and food stores. They ate and planned and slept in that closed environment. Like wardens of a prison, locking themselves into solitary confinement for their own protection. Only emerging into the world of light in the morning to address the chores that became their way of life.