by Ryk Brown
Oh God, Hanna panicked. Don’t fuck up. She looked straight ahead at camera one, hoping that the program director would notice which camera she was facing.
He did.
“A representative at Block Island Federal Incarceration and Rehabilitation Facility assured the public that they are taking every measure to protect the welfare of their employees as well as the uninfected inmate population. Meanwhile, American Federation coastal patrol ships have been called in to enforce the general quarantine around Block Island to insure that no prisoners reach the mainland, should they escape.”
Message; Graham: “Good job, Hanna. Nice pickup. Look to whatever camera you want when you switch stories. The PD is winging it at this point, so he’ll follow your lead.”
Reply: Got it, Hanna thought. “Shortages in basic services are being reported as the labor force shrinks. With more than a quarter of the Earth’s pre-plague population having fallen, and another fifty percent infected, more than half of the remaining three billion survivors are either tending to the ill and injured, tending to their own at home, or refusing to leave their homes for fear of being stricken with the Klaria virus themselves. Officials fear that critical infrastructure may fall victim to mismanagement or inadequate maintenance in the near future. The public is being warned to prepare for interruptions in electrical power for those who are still dependent on grid-based suppliers. In addition, citizens can expect long-term reductions in police, fire, emergency medical services and all forms of infrastructure maintenance.”
Hanna turned to her left, facing the next camera as she continued reporting. The red light snapped on above the new camera, indicating that the program director was indeed following her lead, just as Graham had said.
“Shortages in labor have forced the use of mass incineration sites around the globe. Due to the overwhelming numbers of deceased victims, massive pits have been replacing overburdened cremation facilities in most metropolitan areas. Cremation workers are making every effort to document the identities of those lost using facial recognition databases. Authorities are asking citizens to include some form of identification when delivering bodies for proper disposal to ensure proper tracking of the deceased.”
Hanna turned again, this time to the camera on her far right. “The International Counter-Terrorism Agency reports there are still no leads on the identity, or the motive of ‘Unknown’, the person claiming to be the creator and distributor of both the Twister and Klaria components of the bio-digital plague. More than two thousand persons of interest have been questioned by the ICTA, and more than three hundred individuals are being detained pending further investi…”
Message; Unknown: They may as well release them all.
The message caused Hanna to stop mid-sentence. Her pulse began to race, and she felt weak. Reply: Is it you?
Message; Unknown: Yes. Hello again, Hanna.
Message; Graham: Switch to voice mode. PD is going to show Unknown’s texts over the netcasts for everyone to see.
“Can we synthesize a voice for this asshole?” Brent Tollison demanded as he burst into the control room.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure…”
“Has anyone checked with the ICTA about this?” Mister Beals wondered, entering the room immediately after Brent.
“I’m texting with him now,” Graham reported from the back of the room. “He’s fine with it. He thinks it might loosen his tongue, so to speak.”
“What the hell are you waiting for?” Brent said, looking at the program director.
“Do it.”
Message; Unknown: You picked the ball up and ran with it quite nicely, Hanna. Too bad about Constance, though. Such a pretty young lady. Very talented as well. I’m surprised she succumbed so quickly. After all, she was one of the first ones to drop off the net once I helped you break the story. Either the natural immunity levels are lower than originally calculated, or the biological variant is far more contagious than the original version.
An electronic voice came to life in the control room, as Unknown’s texts became spoken words. “Quite a beautiful thing, really, how it has managed to grow and adapt…”
“I’ve got it,” the audio technician announced.
“Pipe it through the studio, low volume,” the program director ordered.
“…I feel like a proud parent watching my offspring surpass its teachings, innovating on its own.”
Hanna looked away from the camera for a moment, noticing the synthesized voice. The prompter went blank for a moment, catching her attention once again as a message appeared on the screen below the camera lens. “Ask him who he is, why he is doing this.”
Hanna stared at the prompter, unsure who was speaking to her.
More text appeared on the screen. “It’s us… PD, Graham, Brent… ask!”
“Who are you?” Hanna asked as directed.
“I am no one, and I am everyone. I am neither love nor hate, cause nor effect. I am retribution. I am justice. I am fate…”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“He’s a fucking loon, that’s what he is,” Brent exclaimed. “This is going out live, right? Tell me it’s going out live?”
“Yes! Yes! It’s going out live!” the program director assured him.
“Who I am is unimportant. I will perish with the rest of you, pay the same price. ‘Why’ is all that matters.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Simple. Because it needed to be done.”
“What do you mean, it needed to be done?” Hanna asked.
“Humanity is a plague in and of itself,” Unknown explained. “It acts without forethought, breeds beyond resources, invents without consideration of consequences. It is the only species that kills for pleasure, and then convinces itself that such acts are acceptable.”
“So you’re trying to kill us all,” Hanna questioned, “yourself included?”
“Oh, I’m good, but I’m not that good. Some of you will undoubtedly survive.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is to reset the human race… To give it, and all the worlds it is destroying, a second chance. We all deserve a second chance, don’t you think?”
“But you’re killing billions of innocent people,” Hanna protested.
“And I plan to kill billions more, Miss Bohl.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” Hanna asked, challenging him.
“I have turned off all emotions,” Unknown explained in his quasi-human electronic voice. “I take no pleasure in killing. It is merely a means to an end. For something as important as the saving of all things, there is no sacrifice too great. Such is the responsibility of all gods.”
“You are not God,” Hanna argued.
“I suspect that depends on your definition.”
“The general consensus has always been that God is love,” Hanna argued.
“How much love do you think it takes for someone to kill billions today, in order to save all things, including humanity, for countless tomorrows?”
“I don’t understand. You claim to be a god, and yet you have no regard for human life. You claim to love all things, including the human race, yet you kill billions indiscriminately…”
“My intention was not to engage in a debate on religion, morality, or any other of humanity’s creations. My intention was not to explain my reasons, for could you understand them, my actions would not have been necessary. My intention, dear Hanna, was to thank you all for your sacrifice. Because of it, all things will continue, including the human race, albeit to a lesser extent. Remember what happened, and why, lest it might happen again. Good luck to you all.”
“Wait!” Hanna shouted desperately. She paused, realizing she had lost her composure. She scanned her visual space, looking for another message, looking for the conversation to continue. She had so many questions… both her own, and those that Agent Oslo had suggested during their mock scenarios.
The prompter went bl
ank again, then another message from the control room appeared. “One last announcement, Hanna, then you can sign off.”
Hanna cleared her throat, regaining her composure as the last story appeared on the prompter. “The International Internet Authority has announced that as of midnight tonight, Greenwich Mean Time, the public internet will be shut down until the crisis is over. All government and financial networks will remain in operation for as long as possible. However, they will be segmented and disconnected to prevent further spread of the Twister component of the bio-digital virus. Proponents for the shutdown assert that had the decision been made earlier, countless lives might have been saved. However, epidemiologists argue that the latest version of the Klaria biological component is so virulent that, although such early measures might have slowed the initial outbreak, complete containment would have been impossible. Authorities are urging all citizens to download the various survival guides and contact information for their areas prior to the shutdown. Netcast News World will continue to broadcast hourly updates on the crisis over a combination of our satellite network and the emergency broadcast radio network. Anyone with a smart-comm or a radio receiver, should be able to receive news and information through the new system. This netcast will be the last one over the public internet. We will resume our hourly broadcasts tomorrow morning at zero eight hundred hours, Greenwich Mean Time. Until then…” Hanna closed her eyes for a moment. “Until then…”
“What’s she doing?” the program director wondered as he watched the monitor. He watched the monitor as Hanna looked down at the desk then off to the side, as if searching for words. “Cue closing music and fade to…”
“No, wait!” Brent interrupted. “Let her speak.”
“A week ago, someone told me that we all had to carry on as if everything would be okay,” Hanna began. “He was wrong.” She looked down again for a moment, swallowing hard before continuing. “Everything is not going to be okay. Everything is going to change. Some of us will live and some of us will die. Most of us will die. But life will continue. We will continue. Differently than before, yes, but continue we shall. What other choice do we have?” Hanna wiped a tear from her cheek. “Take care of each other. Take care of your neighbors, and let them take care of you. Those of us that do survive will have to pull together, or perish. We will stay right here, and we will bring you the news, both good and bad. We will keep you informed so that we might all survive… together.” Hanna hung her head down, squinting and pursing her lips as if fighting to maintain control of her emotions. She swallowed again, dry as her mouth was, and took in another breath. She raised her head and looked directly at the camera, tears running down her cheeks as she spoke in a broken voice. “I’m Hanna Bohl… Netcast News World, New York.”
Thank you for reading this story.
(A review would be greatly appreciated!)
COMING AUGUST
Fall of the Core
NETCAST 02
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Table of Contents
FALL OF THE CORENETCAST: 01
