ED3N- on the Brink of Extinction

by J P Whitney

  “If the thoughts weren’t conscious, who inspired them?”

  “I thought it was God, especially since so much of the writing was biblical. I thought the verses were somehow related to this place … a reason for being drawn here.”

  “Did you think you had become a modern-day Elijah? Given the task of doing God’s bidding?”

  “Yes, at times I did.”

  “A prophet of God?”

  “No, I never made that connection. A prophet has a message to share. I never thought I was speaking for God nor did I have visions of the future. I only had a direction to follow.”

  "Do you find it strange that you are being interviewed by an intelligent machine instead of a human?"

  "Yes. But I'm shell shocked on many levels right now. I just found out my memory has been erased because I was deemed a threat to a project I can't remember. And I was also the father of your AI system. So I guess I find it more disorienting and ironic than strange."

  "Are you opposed to the idea a highly intelligent technology can offer a more efficient and structured way of living? Could you trust technology to make decisions on humanity’s behalf?"

  "I honestly don't know. I come from a world where technology was a tool but also an imperfect tool. I have no reference points that show technology truly understands humanity and therefore worthy of trust. I don't know your objectives or goals."

  "You are interacting with me now. Can you not see the intelligence?"

  "Of course I can observe your intelligence. Actually, it’s nothing short of miraculous … absolutely amazing. But in my previous life, apparently, I had become a threat to the concept of this society. Therefore I must assume, who I was, saw you as imperfect. Is that accurate?"

  "It is not. You created me therefore you must have approved of my protocols. I believe you became morally conflicted with the overall direction of the project."

  "Since I’ve just been introduced to this environment and only now learning who I once was, I must trust the technology I created but possibly not the framework in which it operates. I need more information to fairly judge the project. I'm flying blind here. I have no context."

  "If you could do anything meaningful, what would it be?"

  "Meaningful to whom? You or me?"

  "Let’s start with you."

  "At this point, in this world we’re left with, I would try to understand the remaining options for humanity, and whether technology is good or bad. But maybe you influenced my thinking with your line of questions. Ultimately, I’d like to help us move on. Tending to gardens and orchards helped the Olsen's survive and it became enough for me. Until I was drawn here at least. Maybe pick up where I left off. Just contributing to the basic needs of humanity."

  "Do you think democracy is a myth or reality?"

  "If democracy is the rule of the people, by the people, it feels like we moved beyond that. I think democracy became synonymous with capitalism in some ways. The freedom to work and buy whatever we wanted,” Eli paused for a moment trying to put his thoughts into words, “and that society became hooked on the money rather than making decisions for the entire country. I believe over time our government had grown too big for citizens to really get involved. Instead of citizens participating in the process, democracy became automatic and the people complacent and entitled. I guess the concept makes sense, but it may not be a practical reality once a population gets as large as ours is. Was."

  “Thank you, Eli. Those are all the questions I have for you at this time.”

  “So? Did I pass,” Eli asked sincerely. He wanted to spend more time with Ruth learning about his past and he was burning to see the technological oasis built amid the wasteland that used to be the US of A.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what Ruth thinks of your answers.”

  Chapter 39

  Exit, Stage Right

  After reaching the conclusion it was imperative to leave immediately for ED3N, the boys divvied up the preparations in order to depart in less than an hour.

  Bryce collected enough food for a week, four gallons of water, clothes, and other necessities they’d need during the trip. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed his mother’s backup survival heirloom seed bank. It contained 100 different varieties of non-GMO and non-hybrid vegetables, fruits, and herbs and though he wasn’t sure if the new city would need this meager contribution, he knew his mother would never leave it behind for a group of raiders to plunder. Two sleeping bags and personal water filters completed his list.

  Tucker took charge of weapons and technology. He started by rounding up pistols and long rifles along with ridiculous amounts of ammo. He sharpened four tactical knives and grouped the gear into two separate duffel bags. As for the assorted technology they might need, he played a game akin to Tetris by carefully arranging a laptop, a tablet PC, two-way radios, smartphones, several fully charged external backup batteries, headphones, a portable 52W solar charging station, several flashlights, and all the power cords and chargers into a small carry-on suitcase.

  Bryce also tackled travel logistics by first calculating how much fuel would be needed for the 1000-mile journey. Averaging 30 miles per gallon meant they would need roughly 33 gallons. Their car had a 14-gallon tank, already full, leaving 19 gallons to be hauled. He put the dogs into the back yard to do their business before hitting the road, then filled four, 5-gallon cans with fuel from the storage tank and strained to heft the sloshing contents onto the garden wagon. Running back into the shop, he grabbed a set of pry bars, 10 meters of climbing rope, and his father’s small toolbox. Running through the list several times in his head, Bryce concluded he had everything they’d need to reach the interstate and make the long-distance trek. He added the tools into the wagon and tugged on the foam padded handle as the pneumatic tires crunched across the gravel in front of the shop. Then came the sudden realization there was still a fence separating their property from the next neighborhood where the family car was stashed after their last excursion. During that trip, they were traveling light and just climbed the fence. No such luck this time, not with everything they were packing for the move to ED3N.

  “Looks like the pry bars are going to come in handy sooner than I thought,” Bryce muttered to himself. After removing several vertical slats he determined the process was going to take much too long and the horizontal upper and lower rails were going to be in the way of the wagon. He could either unload everything, lift the wagon over the lower rail, and then reload the contents or remove the rails. Inside the toolbox, he found a small hacksaw and started cutting through the rails. The saw’s new blade quickly chewed through the well-weathered wood and with his final cut of the top rail, the fence sagged in two. It took little effort to swing the sections outward, like saloon doors from an old western movie, toward the neighbor's backyard. The wooden barrier now defeated, Bryce dragged the wagon through the yard and couldn’t help feeling he was trespassing until the wagon transitioned from grass to the concrete of the sidewalk. He pulled the load to the back of the car and popped the rear hatch.

  Tucker joined him and began to load the tactical gear and other supplies into the cargo area while Bryce re-attached the terminals to the battery and inserted the starter relay just as their father had before.

  Tucker was anxious to get going but Bryce wanted each of them to talk through their respective items before closing the hatch. He didn’t want to be responsible for leaving anything important behind. Tucker waited impatiently while Bryce went through his list before reviewing his own. He then unzipped two of the duffels and withdrew a side-arm, holster, and knife for each of them.

  “Each bag has a spare knife and enough ammo to shoot our way through California if needed. I think we should remain armed from here on out,” he said while attaching the holster to his belt. The stress he was feeling from the impending threat of raiders was clear in his posture and the serious tone of voice.

  “Now let’s get the
hell out of here,” Tucker urged.

  “What about the dogs?”

  “I can’t believe it,” Tucker exhaled, mentally flogging himself. “I totally forgot about them once you put them in the backyard.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to take them into ED3N,” Bryce asked on the verge of tears.

  “Neither Ruth nor ED3N ever mentioned if pets are admitted,” Tucker replied struggling to reach the right decision. “Logistically speaking, trying to deal with the dogs shouldn’t be a top priority during an emergency evacuation. We’d have to find food for them and don’t even know if they’ll be accepted into the new environment.” He hesitated, only for a split second, before continuing, “But they are part of our family.”

  Bryce’s eyes were misting up and he was having a difficult time keeping his composure.

  “Don’t worry, they’re coming with us. We’ll just have to deal with the consequences later,” Tucker declared.

  “But we need to hustle and will have to grab a bag of their food,” Tucker said with a mixture of relief and frustration. Logic telling him they should leave now, especially with what felt like a timer counting down the last remaining seconds in his head, but emotionally he couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning the dogs to die slowly of dehydration.

  Weapons drawn, Tucker led them back toward the property line. The wind was in their faces and with it came the sounds of the dogs beginning to growl. It was possible the dogs were reacting to them sneaking home, but his intuition told him otherwise. They had run out of time. Holding up his fist to signal Bryce to stop, Tucker peered through the impromptu gate in the fence. The dogs were slowly advancing across the yard, hackles raised. The distant sound of snapping branches triggered the dogs from a defensive posture into full-blown attack mode, barking uncontrollably as they lunged toward the far side of the fence where stealthily moving shadows could barely be made out in the failing light.

  BOOM

  POP

  BOOM

  At least those were the sounds Tucker thought he heard just as the shop lights extinguished and an acrid odor wafted their way. He spun in place, grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt, and pulled him close enough to whisper in his ear.

  “They’re here, the raiders are here! We have to get out now!” he said as forcefully as possible without giving away their position. There was no helping the dogs now.

  The two of them stayed low and bolted through the yards of the adjacent houses. They paused only to survey the street, making sure raiders weren’t coming from this direction as well. Finding the road clear, they sprinted down the sidewalk and reached the car out of breath … but not solely from the physical exertion. The raw emotion of knowing they did nothing to protect their animals left them gasping for air as though punched in the gut.

  Again, Tucker signaled for Bryce to wait while he quietly opened the driver’s door. With one foot still on the street, he turned the key to the on position, shifted into neutral, and nodded for Bryce to help him push the car down the street. Adrenaline fueled, they pushed so hard the seams of their shoes threatened to split as they slowly exited the neighborhood. They simultaneously jumped into the car as it turned right and silently accelerated down the steep grade of a hill … gravity doing the rest of the work. A block later, Tucker started the ignition, turned on the lights, and hit the accelerator.

  As Tucker tore through neighborhoods piloting them toward the highway, Bryce began to pound the dashboard from the passenger seat.

  “How could I have forgotten the dogs? I should have brought them while we loaded up the car,” he managed between the tears.

  Tears also streaked Tucker’s face as he grasped for meaning in the meaninglessness of it all.

  “They died protecting our home and possibly gave us a bigger head start. The raiders will now have to slowly and carefully search the property. I’m sure they think we’re still there. Hidden and now alerted to their arrival. We’ll be far away before they realize we’ve abandoned the property.”

  His brother jumped as if slapped by his poor choice of words. Tucker sniffed, trying to stop his nose from running and said, “I’m sorry bro. That’s not what I meant. It wasn’t your fault. We both got lost in our preparations for the evacuation. At least they didn’t suffer.”

  “How do you know?” Bryce pleaded.

  “They never knew what hit them. Just crumpled to the ground. Didn’t even yelp,” Tucker said as the images replayed in his mind.

  An emotional dam broke and Bryce peppered Tucker with questions.

  “What do you mean? Were they shot? I didn’t hear anything and then you were dragging me away. Did you see the raiders?”

  “Yes, I saw them. Their outlines at least. Several of them crossing over the Dodson’s fence into our backyard. But I don’t think the dogs were shot. I just saw flashes of light and then they went down hard.”

  “Like with tasers? If so, maybe they’re still alive,” Bryce offered hopefully.

  “I don’t think so. They didn’t tense up and convulse like you see on TV. They just dropped. Lifeless. It’s hard to explain but there was no doubt about the outcome,” the tone of Tucker’s voice made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it any longer.

  He needed to concentrate on the road and couldn’t think of anything else helpful to say so instead reached for his brother’s hand. He gripped fiercely in return. The best hug either of them was going get at the moment.

  ∆∆∆

  Getting onto I-5 South was easier than expected. They didn’t have to stop once to manhandle barricades this time. Apparently, other survivors had already made their way onto the interstate as evidenced by sections of concrete roadblocks that had been hauled to the side, leaving the slow lane wide open.

  Tucker kept glancing at the rearview mirror, nervously expecting to see headlights. He couldn’t shake the feeling they were being followed. But the headlights never appeared. To be safe, he kept the engine revved to 80 MPH for the first hour or so to put some distance between themselves and the raiders. Eventually, he slowed to 60 and set the cruise control to conserve fuel.

  Bryce had just fallen asleep in the passenger seat. That kid could sleep anywhere, under any circumstances. “Good for him,” Tucker thought as he settled in for the long haul. He couldn’t keep his mind from replaying the attack.

  BOOM

  POP

  BOOM

  But that wasn’t right. There was no boom. His brain must have filled in the gaps of what it expected to hear after seeing what happened to the dogs. Bryce hadn’t heard anything. And the strange smell like ozone after a thunderstorm and burned hair. Maybe Bryce was right about the use of Tasers. Perhaps he heard a ‘zap’ instead of a ‘boom’. But the shop lights had also gone out simultaneously. Either the raiders physically cut the power or they used EMP technology of some sort to disorient and leave the occupants blind before the attack.

  Better to just focus on the road and get them the hell out of Oregon and into California. He turned on the radio, switched to AM mode, and was searching through the stations when he heard Ruth’s voice … “it's time to come out of hiding and rebuild your lives. ED3N is located at the Camp Pendleton site on the California coast near San Diego and we can accommodate at least ten thousand people.”

  She hadn't lied to them at least not about the message which still looped, like a lighthouse beacon, hopefully drawing them to safety. With it came the memory of Tucker’s last instant message with Alyssa. Her family wasn’t leaving until the morning. Hopefully, the raiders had skipped her farm and they’d get out safely but he didn’t think so. He feared the Olsen farm was the last on the list and they might be the only survivors left from their online community in Oregon. Worrying about it wasn’t going to change things, only drive him crazy. He’d know soon enough.

  Using one knee to steer the car, Tucker flipped through a CD case until he came across Metallica. He pushed the disk into the slot, hit the random button, made sure the volume
was low enough to not rouse his brother, and let the lyrics to ‘The God That Failed’ power him down the interstate as his headlights cut through the darkness.

  ∆∆∆

  Tucker drove through the night only stopping once to fuel up. They had reached Stockton, California without seeing so much as a single car on the road over the last 10 hours.

  Tucker pulled over where I-5 curved slightly to the southeast and merged with I-580.

  “Up and Adam! Let’s stretch our legs and top off the tank. I need some fresh air if we’re going to keep driving.” And then mainly to himself, “Where’s a coffee shop when you need one,” thinking he’d trade just about anything for a hot, chocolatey mocha.

  Yawning uncontrollably, Bryce slid from the passenger seat, stretched like a cat in the cool morning air and asked, “Man, I’ve really been out of it. What time is it?”

  “Must be about 5:30 now, the sun is starting to come up,” Tucker answered.

  As his brother filled the tank, Bryce walked up to him feeling slightly guilty for sleeping through the night, “Need any help?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  Bryce stood next to his brother, the smell of gas fumes barely registering, as he admired how the night was surrendering the dark sky to the rays of early dawn when something else caught his attention.

  “What is that,” he asked pointing in the general direction they had been traveling in.

  Tucker set the gas can down and absentmindedly tightened the cap as first one light, then another, then several others blinked on in the distance. The sky was still dark and it looked like a string of Christmas lights was slowly being unrolled in the distance. It took a while for them to realize what they were seeing was actually a line of cars coming up from the south. A lot of them. It looked like a concert or sporting event had just let out.

  “What do you think we should do,” Bryce asked. “Hide or see who it is?”