David Hagberg: Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

This was Crystal Peak's Control and Command Center, and yet it was all wrong. What looked like a waiting area furnished with chairs and couches faced a glass-enclosed computer center raised a couple of steps above the main floor.

The great seal of the United States of America was mounted high on one wall, and across from it, what appeared to be a small television studio had been set up in a corner. Lights hung from a massive, circular concrete slab suspended from the ceiling brightly illuminated a podium that was flanked by the U.S. flag and a blue flag that Connor didn't recognize. Television cameras were trained on the podium behind which was a blue curtain for a backdrop.

Connor and Kate took a couple of steps closer. At the center of the backdrop, directly behind the podium, was the seal of the President of the United States.

The president was meant to be here. To broadcast his message to a nation that was at war.

Global thermonuclear war.

It was becoming clear to Connor, finally. He sprinted across to the computer center, which consisted of several rows of monitor stations above which were clocks showing the local times at various capitals around the world. But the equipment was old. Twenty years or more out of date.

"These are just ordinary computers," Connor said with growing understanding.

He looked around, frantically searching for something, anything to prove him wrong.

"This isn't Skynet," he said. "There's nothing here. It's just a fallout shelter for VIPs. Only they never got the warning."

He swept a computer monitor off the desk and it smashed onto the floor, its old fashioned CRT tube imploding.

"Goddammit, there's nothing here!" He looked at Kate and nodded beyond her to the lobby and the elevator that had brought them down from the tunnel. "Why did he send us down here to—?"

"To live," Kate said softly. "It was his mission."

Connor shook his head and lowered his eyes. He was spent. It was all over. "There was never any stopping it," he said. The detonator fuse was counting down. Less than one minute to go.

Kate was looking at him, her eyes filling with tears. She had lost everything that she ever valued in her life. "John," she started. "We could just—" But she couldn't say it. Couldn't suggest that they do nothing, remain right here until the C-4 exploded.

One of the communications consoles suddenly came to life, red lights flashing, the overhead speakers crackling with static. Voices, dozens maybe even hundreds of them, jammed the one channel. It was hard to make out at first; there were so many of them. Some of them spoke foreign languages, some heavily accented English. But all of them were frantic; that much was clear.

"Hello, hello. This is Montana Civil Defense. Somebody please come in—"

"Can you read me? This is U.S. STRATCOM. We're at a hardened facility, under attack. Repeat, we are under attack."

"— rumors about launch sequences, command and control have broken down out here—"

It was over. Judgment Day had arrived. Connor looked at Kate, and he could see that she understood that they were too late. That they'd never had a chance.

"Is there anybody there?" a distant voice pleaded. "Is there anybody there?"

Connor pulled the detonator from the brick of C-4 and tossed it aside. Two seconds later, the fuse sizzled momentarily and then popped.

Connor went over to the communications console, studied the controls for a few seconds, and then flipped a switch and picked up the microphone. "This is John Connor at Crystal Peak."

"Connor, what the hell is happening? Who's in charge there?"

He hesitated. "I guess I am," Connor said after a beat.

Kate came to his side and took his hand in hers. He turned to look into her pretty face, into her eyes, into her soul.

Maybe some things have to happen, he thought.

He knew what was happening now on the surface. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of missile contrails would be crisscrossing the evening sky.

By the time Skynet became self-aware, it had spread into millions of computer servers across the planet. It could not be shut down.

Thermonuclear explosions would be erupting all over the world. City busters, the multi-megaton weapons were called. Designed to kill millions of people with one searing blast.

The attack began at six-eighteen p.m. Just as he said it would. Judgment Day.

From the viewpoint of satellites in orbit, this was the time when the earth had no night darkness.

The day the human race was nearly destroyed by the weapons they'd built to protect themselves.

To the west toward Los Angeles and the California coast, bomb after bomb detonated, sending massive nuclear shock waves across the mountains, toppling trees and setting them alight as if they were matchsticks.

I should have realized. The Terminator knew. He tried to tell us. But I didn't want to hear it. Our destiny was never to stop Judgment Day. It was merely to survive it — together.

Above, in the tunnel, a wind began to howl, fanning the dying flames from the wreckage of the helicopters, sending desert sand under the blast doors to scour the burnt remains of the two terminators.

There are others like us. We will find them. And join together. Take back our world.

Terminator's skull was crushed almost beyond recognition. Wires and hydraulics and processor chips were exposed.

But there was still a faint red glow in one eye.

Maybe the future has been written. I don't know. All I know is what the Terminator taught me. Never stop fighting. And I never will.

A tiny electric circuit in Terminator's skull shorted out.

The battle has just begun, Connor thought.

The wind in the tunnel was very strong now and radioactive with early fallout. But Terminator was no longer aware of anything. The feint glow in its eye died.