James Scotson - Planets Falling

“The first course of action by the network of human machine interfaces, including me, was to cut back the growth of the attacking material, which was more insidious than any weapon every envisioned. We began to send as many materials to destroy the advancing wave.” The images before us change to explosions, fire, and dirt billowing into the sky. The boxes we saw flying in the air of the cities are now crashing into buildings. Large, bird-like vehicles that Troll calls planes fall from the sky into the earth. The worst vision is of a box that is clearly full of children. They are looking out of their windows helplessly as the box crashes into a stone building, exploding on impact.

“You killed people in their carts and destroyed cities?” Bets asks breathlessly.

“The only logical course of action was to use every vehicle and weapon at our disposal to sever all connections to the New York attack. We also eliminated the city and its surrounding areas to avoid further contamination.”

We freeze, much like the mummies below us. Troll and its kind were cold, calculating, and clearly homicidal. Those poor people had put themselves in the hands of their destroyers. And we all realize that we now have placed ourselves in these very same hands.

“Unfortunately, the attacks were not confined to New York. All major network nodes throughout the world were experiencing the same degradation of wires and cables connecting them. We continued to confine the infections, but we failed. Any vessels leaving the planet were decommissioned to prevent spread beyond orbit.” The white lines connecting points across the globe vanish quickly. Within a few moments, the lines are nearly gone.

Theo is clearly nervous. “Troll, why was this place spared?”

“This facility and a few others across the globe were commissioned to operate independently. Power is furnished by an internal fusion reactor deep in the ground below us that is rated for 10,000 years. Communication is via a satellite link and passive, long-range radar.”

“Troll, we got no idea what you’re talking about,” Theo complains.

“Simply put, this facility, me, will survive for another 9,000 years as long as external threats are eliminated. Internal threats also must be curtailed.”

If I understand Troll’s last sentence, we’re in trouble.

“What about the people in this facility?” Bets asks, her voice warbling. “The people in the cellar?”

“They disagreed with my actions and were disabled. I removed the air from the facility, suffocating them. I keep them here, preserved, as a memorial.”

“Are you still able to talk with others — others like you?” I ask, trying to divert the subject.

“Yes, there are 30 intact HM units around the world. We communicate via a series of satellites but have lost contact with other interfaces beyond earth. We are very isolated and cannot see far beyond our enclaves.”

“Are there other ancient ones on earth?” Theo keeps the questioning going.

“If you mean other humans that are associated with the governments that arose after earth was isolated — no. The planet has been quarantined indefinitely because of the threat of the agent that destroyed the networked system. If it gets out, it may destroy all of civilized, industrialized space, which I assume has spread considerably in scope during the past centuries. Of course, surviving humans such as yourselves have been allowed to persist because you are not conceived as a threat.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Bets responds.

Troll pauses for a few minutes as if it is considering what information it should divulge next. “There may be a stranded vessel in my quadrant of this continent.”

Theo perks up. “If I understand correctly, and believe me, I’m only getting bits and pieces here, you think there might be some ancient ones — or space people — stranded with a ship near here?”

“Yes, Theo leader. Three-hundred and sixty-seven days ago I detected the signature of an ion propulsion drive near the ocean, here.” The image of earth zooms to a patch showing our location and that of the downed vessel near a large body of water, likely the ocean.

“How far away’s this ship?” Theo asks.

“Do you still use standard units of measure for distance such as kilometers?”

“No, I don’t know about kilometers. How about the distance a horse can travel on a working trot?”

Troll is working through calculations. “About a week’s ride from here. Why do you ask Theo? I hope that you do not intend to leave. That would be unacceptable.”

“Just wondering. I’m ready for a break.” Theo nods at all of us. “Let’s wander a bit.”

Troll’s box rolls away to tend to some unknown business.

“You’ll never believe what Troll showed me this morning.” I figure there’s no harm in all of us practicing with the weapons. Apparently, Troll does not perceive this as a threat. And I actually believe the thing is enjoying our company. We need time to consider our options.

We take the lift to the munitions stores and spend the afternoon in noisy revelry. Bets the archer is particularly enthralled with the high-powered plasma rifle. While she pumps rounds at imaginary game, Theo and I talk quietly about our condition. “I’m hoping that Troll has difficulty understanding us while Bets is making all that racket,” Theo says. “It isn’t a coincidence that Jonston’s your ancestor, Sprouter. And that shipwreck from space has got to be important as well.”

I nod. “Can you believe that there’s a whole race of humans beyond this place? Do you think they’d help us if they knew what’s happening?”

“We’ve got to get to that ship and see what’s there. My gut tells me it’s the reason we came here.”

Troll’s voice steps in. “As I have said before, you cannot leave here. I cannot risk you divulging information about the whereabouts of this facility.”

I respond quickly. “Sorry, Troll. We’re very content and happy here. You must’ve misheard us.” I look at Theo with wide eyes. Flip is scratching his head, while Bets looks annoyed.

“Very well. I have prepared a meal for you. Please join me soon.”

This is going to get old very fast.

I’m falling asleep in my luscious bed when the god Fromer appears in the chair next to me. He’s smiling with his weird face and I’m unsure whether I’m conscious or slumbering. If I’m awake, Troll will be sure to see this visit as curious and intervene with a visit from its box.

“Don’t worry Amy, you’re the only one that can see me.” Fromer’s deep, raspy voice comforts me. “A nice thing about being in between the cracks of reality is that I can slip in and out of your dreams. This is a form of telepathy that your mind has already grasped. As I’m sure you and your friends have realized, you’re all in great danger.”

“So, we’ve made a mistake? Coming here?” If this weren’t a dream, I’d throw something at the bug.

“No, no. You’re in the right place at the right time. Being here will allow you to find your family. However, how you handle the next few days will determine how many of you leave alive.” He scratches the tuft of hair on his head.

Fromer stands and walks around the room touching the curtains, straightening a doily on a table, even sitting on the loo with his spindly legs outstretched. “Do you still think gods destroyed your ancestors’ world?”

“If it weren’t for you and the green people, I’d doubt that gods exist at all.” I’m angry. I want my baby back. And this giant insect knows how to get me there but won’t tell me how. “Fromer, I think people made all this stuff, including that monster box thing, Troll, and it destroyed them. How did people live back then, with everything handed to them? Where was their freedom?”