Humankind_Saga 1 Read online

  “Yo kid,” he said, smiling, “I got some new info on the C-71 landing!”

  Michael rolled his eyes.

  “Aww, come on,” scoffed Tee, “you don’t really believe the government, do you? Those fools lie and lie and lie again! I’m telling you, and you heard it from me first, something else is up!”

  “Yeah, I mean maybe you’re right,” Michael replied, “but I’m so sick and tired of hearing about it. I mean, everyone acts like this is going to change everything but nothing changes. We’re still here. Poor. Orphaned. I mean what is this landing going to change?”

  Tee was silent. He didn’t expect the response to be so harsh. Dropping his bag, he sat down on his bed on the opposite side of the room.

  “You okay, kid?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” replied Michael, “I just…I just can’t believe that everyone is putting so much emphasis on this landing when you have people out there dying from diseases. People getting blown up. People hurt and killed at protests. I dunno Tee, sometimes I just feel like we’re focusing on the wrong things…”

  “Wow, that’s deep,” he replied, “groovy though…”

  “I think I might do something good with my life. You know…help people.”

  “Hey, if that’s what you were meant to do kid, you know me…I say do it.”

  He stood up and extended his hand. Michael looked at it, scrunching his face. Tee wiped his dirty palm off on his denim jeans and extended his hand again. Michael shook it.

  “Listen,” said Tee, “whatever you’re going through, just remember, I got your back…”

  SAT, MAY 27th, 2034

  Washington, DC, USA

  7:15 am

  “T

  he trajectory is correct, but the size and timeframe we’ve given isn’t consistent with our calculations,” said Administrator Dunn to CIA Director Horn as they sat in his Washington office at NASA headquarters.

  “When are they expected to arrive?”

  “They’re traveling in excess of forty thousand miles per hour on an almost straight trajectory,” he continued, “This isn’t like our standard disk platform landings…I mean, they’re headed straight for us. If they even survive this landing coming in at this trajectory, only slightly curved by the Earth’s gravitational pull...”

  The Administrator shook his head.

  “I would suggest that you tell the Colombians that they’re gonna have company within the next seventy-two hours…”

  “Confirmed?”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “What do you mean about size?” asked the Director.

  “Well, these are way larger than some of our traditional military disks. No way they’re C-71’s.”

  “How big?”

  “Well, judging from what we can see,” he replied, scratching his head, “I’d say a circular area of about a hundred meters.”

  “Shit.”

  “Listen,” said the Administrator, looking him in the eye, “is this anything we should be worried about? I mean, I don’t see the CIA here very often.”

  Horn leaned forward in his chair, smiling.

  “Not we, Dunn,” he said, “Me.”

  The Director got up from his chair and stepped outside of the office. It was almost 8:00 pm, and no staff remained besides the two of them. He strolled a few feet down the hallway, tapping at his wristphone.

  “Hello?” said the female voice on the other end.

  “Update,” he replied.

  “What do we got?” she asked.

  “Seventy-two hours max…”

  MON, MAY 29th, 2034

  Alexandria, VA, USA

  6:23 pm

  T he buzz about the craft was barely beginning to subside after news of an attack in Denmark claimed by the NIC. The attacks had set off protests in Washington, prompting a stronger response to worldwide terrorism. Swarms of protesters flocked to the next scene of unrest to yell their indecencies and claim the other side threw the first punch.

  The entire day had a feeling as if people were back to business as usual. Bloodying a fellow citizen under the false pretense of protest. Being consumed by their technology, spreading lies and trolling hatred. It was a microwave society, always waiting for the next popular thing. A highly advertised wristphone game was released, causing an outbreak of popular culture news. People had been waiting days for the game to be released online, and the reviews were explosive to the trending atmosphere of social media.

  Michael was lying in his bed listening to music as usual. Cynthia was at practice, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about that night at prom. He thought about Friday, the day that she said he would be able to come over. It was only a few days away, but it felt exactly the opposite, as if they were the longest days of his life. Tee came through the door of the bedroom exhausted. He grabbed his towel and went to the bathroom to shower.

  It had been quite a while since Michael had cracked open the diary. It intrigued him to consider his mother, dedicating her life to finding a cure. Living to save someone else’s life from her afflicting disease. Living to help humankind.

  He reached behind the bed and grabbed the diary. He stared at it for a moment, smiling at the various memories of a noble woman who dedicated her last days to help others. Opening the cover, he flipped to the next entry:

  There is a new fear emerging

  The fear of Death

  One that I have not been witness to

  I continue my work

  Ever diligent to complete it

  To save the world

  I cannot let fear stand in control of me

  All I can ever fear

  Is being gripped by it

  Unable to break free

  Fear has no place in accomplishment

  No habitat in triumph

  We will succeed…

  “Did you hear?” said Tee to Michael as he came through the door, his towel around his waist and his dirty clothes in his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “The locations of the disks were leaked!” he said with enthusiasm, “You can even see them in the sky right now!”

  “Yeah, I saw it,” said Michael with a monotone demeanor.

  “Did you see how big they are?”

  “Yeah, I saw ‘em yesterday,” Michael replied.

  “No, it’s much bigger now!”

  Michael sat up and peeked out of the window. The disks were clearly visible, three silver spots in the sky inside of an inferno in excess of four thousand degrees Celsius. It almost seemed surreal. They had never seen a craft of that size, let alone watching it falling to the earth.

  “It’s pretty groovy, right?” said Tee, smiling as he walked over to the window next to him.

  “I guess so,” said Michael, staring at the objects.

  As mundane as it might have been, staring at the three flames in the sky, they found peace in that moment, unplugged from technology, staring up into the stars as men and women had done since the beginning of time. A sudden calm came over them, realizing that this wasn’t some distant, insignificant blip to fall amongst the unmentioned histories of humanity, it was so much more. The mysteries that would be contained. The stories that would be told. They were watching it unfold in front of their eyes. Something that would change humankind forever.

  Suddenly the fireballs stopped burning, disappearing into the darkness. Michael looked at Tee, who scratched his head in confusion.

  “Did they burn up?” Tee asked.

  “I dunno,” Michael replied, squinting his eyes as he looked into the night sky.

  They both continued looking up, scanning the sky. Tee’s wristphone began to buzz. He looked down and checked his social media feed.

  “Oh look,” he said, raising his wrist closer to his face, “it says they burned up on my media feed. There’s some people saying that they’re all dead.”

  “What are you on, Social Status?” Michael asked, referring to the newest platform.

  “Yeah,” he
replied.

  “Yeah, okay,” Michael said in a condescending tone, “they say anything on Social Status.”

  He looked back up into the sky, scanning the stars for anything moving. It was too bright in the room, and so he ran over by the door and turned the light off.

  “What are you doing?” began Tee, smirking in anticipation of his joke, “I don’t get down like that…”

  “Shut up,” replied Michael, “you stupid.”

  He looked back out of the window, scanning the night sky as Tee continued to read articles and updates from Social Status. He felt somewhat saddened, disappointed that now he would have to return to his normal, boring life. He hadn’t been all that interested before, but now it had suddenly drawn him in.

  He stepped away from the window and sat down on his bed. Tee continued reading ‘RIP’ statuses from his wristphone, commenting about how everyone who couldn’t have cared less a day ago suddenly felt the need to grieve. Michael looked back out of the window from his bed, catching a glimpse of a silver sparkle in the corner that disappeared just as fast as it came. He stood up in a flash, rushing over to the window and looking out.

  “Yo, I just seen them!” he exclaimed, interrupting Tee from his annoyed rant.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, right at the top corner of the window. You gotta look right there, see?”

  Tee hurried over to the window and looked out of it, searching the night sky for the objects.

  “Where?” he asked.

  Michael pointed to the corner of the window where he had seen the craft. Tee slid his body over, craning his neck toward the bed, hoping to catch the angle at which Michael could have viewed that part of the sky.

  “I don’t see anything,” he said.

  “I saw like, a flash,” he said, “I thought it was one of the disks…”

  “Probably just some debris breaking up,” replied Tee, stepping back away from the window.

  Michael sat down on the bed in thought. He knew what he had saw, it was a silver flash, like the disk had suddenly appeared and disappeared. He shook his head; maybe Tee was right. They weren’t there anymore. He laid down, resting his forearm on his forehead.

  “Well,” he said to Tee, “back to our boring lives…”

  TUES, MAY 30th, 2034

  Alexandria, VA, USA

  7:40 am

  W hen Michael got to school, he walked Cynthia to her first class as he had been doing daily, discussing the destroyed disks. The flag outside of the school was at half-mast. The mood was somber.

  “It’s just so sad!” said Cynthia to Michael, “I just hate when people die like that…”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “I know. I thought I saw them after they burned up last night, but it was something else.”

  Walking into first period, the students were still talking about the disks. Most were reverent, disheartened at humankind’s tragic loss. Already, people had begun calling them ‘The Unknown’, a catchy nickname that paid homage to the brave souls who had given their lives to explore further than none had ever gone before. It was disastrous, a grim reminder that man couldn’t travel to the far reaches of space and return. About halfway through first period, an announcement came over the PA system.

  “All students and staff,” began Mr. Marlow overhead, “we normally don’t do this, but we felt the need to interrupt you to report on the three C-71 disks.”

  The classroom’s SMART TVs cut to a news broadcast, with BREAKING NEWS flashing in bright red letters. The city was foreign. Somewhere in South America. The field anchor was excited, exuberantly giving his report.

  “We just arrived in Columbia where one of the C-71 disks touched down at four am this morning! The Columbian government, along with over twenty other global humanitarian organizations made their way early this morning to just south of the city of Bogotá. As you can see here, they are just now getting into their vehicles, ready to head out through the Amazon Rainforest behind me to a clearing near Paramo el Nevado in search of survivors.”

  The class was silent, all the students actively paying attention.

  “Right now, we are seeing the Columbian government escorting over fifteen vehicles out to the site to offer medical aide, collect data, and recover valuable parts from the disk. We’re getting ready to load up in our trucks now. We will continue our report once we have reached the landing site. Remember where you heard it first. News Now dot com.”

  The transmission ended.

  --- 8:00 am ---

  Washington, DC, USA

  “When?” asked the President, power-walking to Air Force One, her blonde advisor, Patricia Gilham, scurrying beside her with her leather binder.

  “Ten minutes ago,” she replied, “on News Now.”

  The two women hurried along the tarmac to the steps of the 787 Jet. The Marine in his dress blues snapped to attention, locking his body and saluting.

  “Dammit Tricia, how did the media know about this before we did?”

  “We’re looking into that ma’am,” she replied respectfully, knowing that the anger wasn’t meant for her.

  The President rubbed her temple with her left hand in thought. She looked up at the Marine, still standing unwavering with his salute. She returned it casually, dropping her arm with his.

  When they stepped onto the plane, the pilot was already doing his preflight checks. They ascended the stairs, Patricia going into the cabin while the President poked her head into the cockpit.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she said, greeting the pilot and his female copilot.

  “Great ma’am,” they answered in unison.

  “How long will it take to get us from Laredo International back to Washington?”

  “About an hour and a half,” answered the pilot.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  She made her way back to her seat, sitting next to Patricia who was adding more notes to her mini-tablet.

  “So, what else was it that you said you needed to tell me?” she asked, reclining back in her luxury leather seat.

  “There’s more footage,” she replied, finishing up her notes and putting her mini-tablet back in her leather binder, “Horn called me today and asked me to show you.”

  “Classified, or TS?” she asked.

  “TS.”

  The steward approached the two women, taking drink orders. He poured a glass of brandy for the President, and orange juice for Patricia.

  “Maybe we can move behind the security partition,” said Patricia, taking a sip of her OJ, “I can show you there.”

  The two women moved toward the back of the plane. The President scanned her thumb on a small pad, opening a door to reveal another room. The room was designed for defense. It sat behind twelve inches of bullet proof, sound proof, and fire proof metal. In the middle of the floor sat a long table with maps, an inflatable raft, and various other survival equipment. On the walls were several parachutes, along with assorted weaponry. Submachine guns, pistols, knives, and shock guns.

  Shock guns were developed in 2027 as a response to escalating tensions over police brutality and overuse of force. The weapons were officially endorsed by the government at the behest of the Attorney General, replacing traditional gunpowder carried by officers. The shock gun boasts a short, bullpup rifle design, improving accuracy, but what truly made it a marvel was its firing system.

  Essentially a railgun system, the rounds are very tiny, which resolve some of the standard rail issues. They are stacked one in front of the other, allowing for a magazine capacity of 200 rounds. The weapon has two moving parts. One is the trigger, which when pulled opens the magnetic release, exposing the copper rounds to a highly charged magnetic field and propelling the round forward at twice the speed of a normal bullet. The other is a small catch-and-release inside of the barrel. This catch-and-release, which is tripped by the round as it passes through the barrel, induces a standard charge of 50,000 volts for a sustained ten seconds. Since there are only two moving parts and no gunp
owder, the weapon will never fail due to dirt or buildup.

  The rollout of the shock gun marked a new era in law enforcement. It easily subdued suspects, rendering them incapacitated for a full ten seconds while officers placed them under arrest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before everyone was a suspect. Shock gun attacks went up almost two hundred percent in just one year. People were confronted, bullied, told to comply or fry. Some universities had tried to link repeated shock gun attacks to brain and nervous system damage, though they were unfortunately overshadowed by politicians bragging about decreased police killings. What the legislators didn’t mention were the increase in arrests and shock gun attacks for misdemeanor crimes, and subsequently, the rise in attacks against police.

  Patricia entered the room before the President, leaning back onto the table and crossing her ankles as she pulled out her PDA and began to pull up the footage. The President pressed a button inside of the door, and a slow-moving partition descended from the ceiling. The steel partition touched the floor gently and stopped.

  “Pull it up,” said the President, walking over to Patricia. She leaned against the table next to her and crossed her arms.

  “Here it is,” she replied, holding out her palm as the PDA device displayed a hologram above the screen, “General Adams ordered a drone fly-by about a half hour after they lost contact.

  “Lost contact?” asked the President. The video began.

  The video showed the overhead view of the city of Bogotá as the drone moved past the buildings within the city limits to the overhead canopy of the rainforest.

  “It leaves the city of Bogotá headed south to their last known location,” said Patricia, “and then…this…”

  The drone banked past the canopy of the trees to a wide-open dirt clearing, the accelerator display in the bottom corner annotating a speed of 100 mpm, or miles per minute. The dirt valley stretched for miles, only a mere few moments for the drone and its high-quality motion camera to cover. Suddenly, a couple of quick flashes moved past the screen. The accelerator display slowed to 20 mpm. Zooming in, the camera began to pick up more flashes. The President squinted her eyes as she tried to understand what the moving objects were.