by Andrew Watts
A few gasps around the room.
The president leaned forward in his seat. “In North Korea? Who fired the nuclear weapons, General?”
“We don’t know the answer to that, sir.”
“Well, find out! Were those the Chinese missiles that launched? Maybe we misread the Chinese missile launch intentions. Maybe they aren’t working in concert with North Korea. Maybe they—”
From the speakerphone, a voice said, “Mr. President, this is Homeland Security. Uh, sir, the emergency alert message just went out nationally.”
“Fine. Thank you—”
“Yes, sir. But it seems that there were some abnormalities…”
“What abnormalities?”
“You see, sir, Homeland Security never issued the EAM.”
Heads turned toward the president. Confused looks.
“What the hell are you saying?”
“We were about to send one out, sir. But…it just went out automatically right before we were going to send it. And, well, considering that we are under cyberattack, we wondered if—”
General Rice said, “Mr. Secretary, what did the message say?”
“It was a standard EAM for this scenario. It read, ‘Remain indoors and stand by for further instructions.’”
General Rice narrowed his eyes. “Why would someone—”
The president said, “Fine. Fine. Whatever. What’s the update on the missile threat? I want to…”
The president’s voice trailed off. His eyes were fixated on the TV screen on the wall.
“What the hell am I looking at?” All eyes turned to the president and then followed his finger to the TV.
It was a live cable news broadcast. They were showing video feed of the Oval Office. The banner underneath said, “Live emergency address from the president expected soon.”
The national security advisor said, “Cyberattacks didn’t affect the TV broadcast?”
“This is part of the emergency broadcast.”
“How could—”
“Everyone be quiet. Someone turn the volume up.”
One of the military aides standing against the wall grabbed a remote control and increased the volume.
“This is live?” the president’s chief of staff asked.
“Yes, it is,” someone answered.
The president felt his body shift as the aircraft began taxiing.
He was looking at himself, on the TV screen.
“But that’s not me. I’m here.”
Yet there he was. Sitting at his desk in the Oval Office. About to make an address to the country on national TV.
“What in the Sam Hill is going on?”
2
The end of the world was announced just like everything else these days. With a mobile phone notification.
It was just after 2 a.m. when the phones started their screeching. The Emergency Alert System. Those terrifying dashes of ugly noise that every American who lived during the Cold War remembers.
David Manning shot up in bed. Groggy and confused, he peered into the dark, looking for the source of the noise.
“What is that?” his wife, Lindsay, asked. David fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, silencing it. But his wife’s phone continued making the same terrible noise from the kitchen.
Lindsay put her pillow over her head, her muffled voice saying, “Turn it off.”
Then the baby began crying from down the hall, and Lindsay let out the curse of a tired mother. “Oh, good Lord, you’ve got to be effing kidding me.” She threw on her robe and headed to the nursery.
David got up and headed to the kitchen to silence his wife’s phone. He squinted, trying to read the alert message as he walked, the text on the bright screen still blurry while his eyes were adjusting.
He reached the kitchen counter, silenced the alert noise on Lindsay’s phone and turned on the light by the sink. David could see the display on his phone clearly now. There was a red outline surrounding a white triangle, with a black exclamation point inside. The message read:
Emergency Alert
Remain indoors. DO NOT DRIVE. Call 9-1-1 for emergencies only. Stand by for further instructions.
What the hell?
“David,” his wife called from the living room. She had turned on the TV and was rocking their newborn while she watched the news.
“David, come here. Look at this.”
The tone of her voice told him that something was wrong. She had been an anxious person before David had been taken to the island as part of a Chinese espionage operation. It had only gotten worse after.
Lindsay was hypersensitive to the news now. Truth be told, so was everyone else. In the past few months, the US had been engaged in combat operations against Iran and had been involved in skirmishes with the Chinese military in the eastern Pacific. Until very recently, David had felt like Chicken Little trying to convince members of the government that they needed to take Cheng Jinshan more seriously. Especially after his credibility was ruined following the Red Cell incident. But after Jinshan had seized control of China’s government, David’s warnings were seen as prescient. He had soon found himself placed in the CIA’s SILVERSMITH program, set up to counter Chinese aggression.
David entered the dark living room, the bright glow of the TV forcing him to squint. The baby was falling back asleep, whimpering on Lindsay’s shoulder.
“What is it?” David asked.
“Look.”
She had CNN on. A young black newscaster that David didn’t recognize was talking to the camera, wide-eyed and looking nervous as he spoke.
The banner on the bottom of the screen read BREAKING: Homeland Security Issues Nationwide Emergency Broadcast Alert After Explosions Rock Hawaii.
Lindsay turned up the volume.
“…so it was only moments ago that we received this alert from the Department of Homeland Security. No confirmation yet on whether that is related to the reports coming out of Hawaii. We can tell you that this is a nationwide bulletin. Our station is in the process of verifying its authenticity, as we are required to do. Our producer has told me that this is the first time since the creation of the Emergency Alert System that a national alert has been issued. We are required by the FCC to read you the message, and I’ll do so now: ‘This is the Emergency Alert System. The United States has been attacked by…’”
The newscaster’s voice cracked, and he looked to someone off camera. He regained his composure and continued.
“…The United States has been attacked by nuclear weapons. Communications have been disrupted, and severe casualties are expected. Further details are unavailable at this time. All residents are urged to stay in their homes until further notice. Staying indoors will provide the best protection from potential blast or radiation hazards. Tune in to local TV and radio stations to receive warnings and instructions applicable for your geographic area.”
The newscaster looked off screen. He said, “Is this right?”
Lindsay plummeted to the couch, her hand covering her mouth, the baby squirming at her shoulder. “Oh my God. David?”
David’s eyes were narrowed. His mind began racing, thinking about the latest intelligence reports he had read. Thinking about where the rest of his family was.
He brought up the contacts list on his phone and dialed his office at Langley. Nothing happened. He looked at the cellular signal. No bars. He accessed a news application, but the latest update was from yesterday. He tried to refresh but got an error message. He checked a few major news websites in the phone’s internet browser. Nothing. Internet was down.
Lindsay sounded frantic. “Should we turn to the local station? It said to turn to the local station. David—”
“Hold on…”
The newscaster held his finger to his ear.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just been told that the president of the United States will be delivering a message. We’re going to cut to the White House now…”
The screen switched
to the United States presidential crest, then to the president himself, sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office, looking every bit the old man that he was. In the background, a picture of his family sat to one side, the American flag to the other.
“My fellow Americans, our nation has come under attack. NORAD has detected signs consistent with multiple ballistic missile launches, originating from North Korea. The United States has responded. Our ballistic missile defense was able to destroy most, but not all of these missiles.
“Moments ago, after conferring with the national security advisor, the director of national intelligence, and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I have ordered a swift and proportionate response. The United States of America will not stand idly by while madmen plot treachery upon our free and peace-loving nation.
“The United States, under my orders, has launched a limited nuclear strike on North Korea. We are now engaged in combat operations on the Korean peninsula. If the United States is attacked, we will strike back. This includes the use of nuclear weapons against our enemies. I implore all nations to heed this warning.
“Americans should remain calm but alert. I assure you that we are taking every possible step to ensure the safety and security of the American people. We—”
Two men raced onto the screen. The president yelled something that sounded like a question. The screen was a blur of large men in suits rushing the president away. Then the presidential seal appeared once again.
Lindsay said, “What just happened?” Her eyes were moist, her free hand covering her mouth.
“I don’t know…I don’t know. They looked like they rushed him off.”
“What the hell just happened?”
“Maybe—”
The next moment seemed like it went by in slow motion.
Through the cracks in the window shades, night turned to day. A bright light, white as winter and intense as daylight, lit up the outside world. The white light lasted for a few seconds, and then…darkness.
The TV turned off on its own. So did the kitchen counter lights. And the HVAC unit, the refrigerator fan, and the dishwasher.
The house became dark and silent.
Lindsay whispered, “Was that a bomb? David, oh my God, tell me that wasn’t a nuclear bomb.” The baby had woken up and was crying again.
David grabbed the remote control and tried turning the TV back on, even though he knew that it was a waste of time.
He walked over to the curtain. “Everyone else’s lights are out, too. No streetlights on, either.”
“What was that light outside, David? The president said there were nuclear missiles. Can you see anything out there? Do you see…do you see a mushroom cloud?”
He peered through the shades. “Everything just looks dark.” The wheels in his head began turning. He looked at his watch, then his phone. Neither was working. The electronics seemed fried. They were now paperweights.
“Honey, I think that bright flash was an EMP. An electromagnetic pulse weapon.” A sickening feeling overcame him as he tried to figure out what their options were. “I’m going to go check the cars.”
Lindsay shook her head. “They said to stay indoors.”
David grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “I just want to go check. It might not be safe here, this close to D.C. We might need to go somewhere else.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where would we go?”
He didn’t answer. He walked into the garage, hitting the button to open the doors, but nothing happened. He swore to himself, walked over to the garage door and pulled the disconnect, then manually raised the door. He could hear voices in the neighborhood.
“…just lit up the whole sky…”
It sounded like Mrs. Barslosky across the street.
The minivan started up without incident. The sedan was a different story. He tried four times, but the engine wouldn’t turn. He went back into the minivan and turned the ignition switch to the first indent so that the radio came on. He scanned through the channels but only heard static.
Lindsay stuck her head into the garage. “Did they start?”
“The Honda did.”
“What should we do now?”
David looked at her. “I don’t know.”
3
The president slammed his fist down on the table. “That wasn’t me on the TV!”
“Sir, I believe we just witnessed what is known as a deep fake. That was information warfare. Someone designed that video to make it look like an official presidential communication.”
“What do you mean? It was computer-generated?”
“Possibly, Mr. President. There are a variety of techniques.”
“And they can really do that?” The president swore. “How many people did that broadcast go out to?”
The DHS secretary’s voice on the speakerphone said, “Sir…all of them. That was put out on every TV network. It was also live-streamed over many websites and news services, and relayed on social media.”
The national security advisor said, “Sir, I think the more important thing to look at is what their intentions were within that particular communication. Why would the Chinese want to say that we fired our missiles? And why would they want to alert our nation that they have ballistic missiles inbound from—”
The conversation came to a halt as a daylight-bright flash ignited the sky, coming in through the cabin windows.
The Secret Service agents rushed to the president, making sure his seat strap was secure and telling him to crouch down into the crash position. The others present in the room followed suit, convinced of the worst, waiting for a nuclear shockwave that never came. After a moment, they stopped ducking, and the Secret Service men went back to their original sentry positions.
The aircraft had come to a halt on the runway numbers. Both of the pilots had been blinded by looking directly at the flash. They were replaced by a backup crew and sent to the medical bay. Furthering the delay was the need for some of the aircraft systems to be reset. There would be an additional two minutes before takeoff, the president was told.
Inside the presidential conference room, the TV and many of the electronics had ceased working. But many of the systems on Air Force One had been hardened to resist just such an attack. This included the majority of the communications devices on board, allowing the Pentagon and STRATCOM to remain on the line.
New information arrived in spurts. General Rice was getting updates from a phone at his ear. He said, “Sir, we have indications of multiple nuclear detonations over the continental United States. Very high altitude. There are also incoming reports of communications and electronics outages over the same area. Sir, this is consistent with an electromagnetic pulse weapon.”
From the speakerphone, “Mr. President, STRATCOM recommends setting DEFCON 1. We now have high confidence that China is responsible for this strike. We should be prepared for a follow-on attack. Sir, we need to execute an immediate response.”
The officer with the nuclear football laid the black leather satchel on the conference table and began unsnapping the straps. He removed a metal briefcase. The president watched his mechanical motions. He had asked the officer about the case during one of their training sessions. The metal case was made by Zero Halliburton, a Japanese luggage manufacturer. Ironic, considering the history of nuclear warfare. Now the officer flipped open the metal briefcase to reveal a computer screen and keyboard. He extended a single antenna, and then his fingers danced over the keypad as the computer screen came to life. From a cutout in the suitcase, he removed a laminated card with a series of challenge codes.
“Mr. President, if you’re ready—”
The president frowned. “Everyone weigh in, quickly.” He looked around the table.
The national security advisor, sitting across the conference table, said, “Mr. President, I have to agree with the NMCC here.”
“General Rice?”
General Rice had a phone to his ear, s
peaking with his team at the Pentagon. “Mr. President, if we launch our missiles, we risk escalating the situation. China could then launch more missiles at us—”
General Sprague said over the speakerphone, “Which is precisely why we need to launch. We need to neutralize their ability to escalate, Mr. President. They’re attacking our military bases throughout the Pacific. They’ve launched EMP weapons at us. Hell, our sensors are down right now. For all we know, there could be more incoming nuclear weapons headed this way right now. Sir, this is our job right now. We have to execute.”
The president leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished wood of the table. He massaged his own scalp and temples, trying to think clearly. The late hour and his raging headache made that almost impossible.
The officer manning the Football said, “Sir, do you have the Biscuit?” The Biscuit was the laminated card that the president had on his person at all times—his ID verification for just this very moment.
The president looked up at the officer. He dug his hand into his breast pocket, pulling out the card holder. He held it in his hands, studying the men in the room.
The president looked at the speakerphone in the middle of the table. “General Sprague, are you one hundred percent certain that it was China who fired this latest group of ballistic missiles?”
“Mr. President, we can’t be one hundred percent certain of anything, sir. Both Russia and China have this capability. But from looking at the real-time intel we’ve seen coming in, it appears that there is now a kinetic environment in the Pacific. Guam, Japan, Korea. At least one aircraft carrier has been attacked by Chinese conventional missiles. There’s fighting near Hawaii—”
“Hawaii?”
General Rice said, “Yes, Mr. President. We are at war with China. Looking at the macro picture, I believe we should operate under the assumption that the Chinese have launched nuclear weapons at us.”
