Escape Velocity: The Anthology

by Unknown

  On his return, Tomma placed his coffee on the desk and sat down. After searching through folders in the desk drawer, he drew out a piece of paper, which he studied before turning to the monitor. Marco watched his expression alternate between disbelief and shock.

  I SIGN!

  CAN YOU SIGN?

  DO NOT BE AFRAID.

  CAN I REVEAL MYSELF?

  Tomma pushed his chair from the desk. Marco sensed alarm amid confusion, especially when Tomma’s gaze tried accounting for the limited space and sparse furnishings incapable of human concealment.

  “Who’s there?” He walked to the door. Marco heard him open and close doors.

  When Tomma returned and after studying the screen during a lengthy silence, Tomma called, “Come out; come out, wherever you are.” The wistful, little chant called for play. Marco knew if he let the moment pass, Tomma might lose sight of his fondness for boyhood memories. He may become fearful and adult-like, adopting an attitude of disbelief toward imagining the impossible.

  Marco appeared several inches from Tomma’s arm, causing him to overturn the chair in a frenzy to escape. He somehow managed to keep his balance and made it to the door. His wild-eyed perusal of the room led Marco to believe his skull was about to be crushed. He raised his hands and succeeded in drawing Tomma’s attention. A neon banner conveying the words “I SIGN!” flashed through Tomma’s brain. Comprehension triggered calm.

  Marco took the opportunity to approach the keyboard, typing what he hoped would allay the man’s fears and awaken curiosity. “My name’s Marco. The world needs our help. If you’re unwilling or unable, I’ll leave.”

  “Holy shit,” Tomma whispered.

  Moving some distance from the keyboard, Marco permitted Tomma to read the screen. They studied one another uneasily. The rat’s humanoid features, uncomfortably conjoined with forced duality, caused a surge of empathy.

  “Can you understand what I say?”

  Marco nodded and gave a thumb up. Tomma righted the chair. He seemed unnerved. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?” Then, after a pause, “Someone must surely be looking for you.” Marco nodded. “Are you...we...in any danger?” Marco pointed to the keyboard. This time, Tomma motioned him forward. About to converse, Marco experienced a wave of surrealism. Intertwined through technology, every keystroke now represented a monumental leap in communication.

  “My name is Marco. They sent a cat equipped with GPS,” Marco explained, “to follow the transmissions emitted by the chip in my brain. I managed to escape in the trunk of your car, but she’ll continue tracking my position unless she’s killed. Even so, others will replace her.”

  “You’ve a computer chip in your brain?”

  “Yes.”

  “You traveled here in the trunk of my car?”

  “From inside your bag. Sorry about the blood.”

  “What blood?”

  “The cat clawed my leg. I bled on your clothes.” He turned to find Tomma studying his blood-encrusted limb.

  “Can you understand how difficult this is for me to believe?” Tomma asked.

  “Sort of,” Marco typed. He hadn’t given much thought to where he might fit into the present. “I realize my existence isn’t commonplace.”

  “Extraordinary is more like it.”

  “You’ve reported on the scientific advancements taking place over the years. I chose you because of your knowledge.”

  “Writing about conjecture and seeing a living hypothesis are two entirely different scenarios, Marco.” The use of his name instilled a measure of assurance, something he hadn’t dared to hope. Things might just work out. He’d wisely chosen his human. “Are there others like you?”

  “Yes. Some like myself have been genetically crossed with human DNA. Others represent modifications ranging from integrated animal species to plant and insect hybridizations. Apes have given birth to humans at the facility where I lived.”

  “What?” Tomma gasped. “Why?” Marco debated how much to divulge, fearful he’d detract from Tomma’s ability to focus on the immediate task. He chose his answer carefully.

  “To use these offspring in further studies toward perfecting the human genome.”

  The sound of shattering glass startled them. Tomma grabbed Marco.

  “They’re not getting you back.” He ran for the door with Marco tucked in one arm, his briefcase, and keys in the other. He cracked the front door then ran for his car.

  He was using the car phone to dial 9-1-1 when Marco dove off the seat and hit disconnect. Tomma shook his head perplexed and opened the laptop. Once it powered up, Marco punched keys.

  “NO POLICE.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re useless at this juncture and could cause more harm. We must act according to plan.”

  “And that would be?”

  “No time for explanation. Trust me.”

  “You’re a rat...and I hardly know you.” Marco cringed with the note of desperation, knowing the repercussions implied by that human trait. How would he accomplish everything in so little time?

  Tomma stopped the car.

  “There are entities,Tomma, that will stop at nothing to safeguard plans for establishing universal sovereignty.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A collaboration of sentient beings whose sole purpose is to disrupt the established norms for evolutionary life.”

  “Are they human?”

  “In a sense.”

  “That could mean anything,” Tomma groaned. “Are they extraterrestrial?”

  “More like omnipresent.”

  “A zillion life forms fit that bill. Viral? Bacterial? Chemical?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Spiritual?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Can you tell me anything for certain?”

  “I can tell you what they aren’t.” Marco stopped to confront Tomma’s confusion. How will we get them up to speed, he wondered. He returned to the keyboard. “They aren’t silicon-based.”

  Tomma closed his eyes. “Less than an hour ago I’d been putting together a piece on the newly developed nano-brain, Cyberscore. Now, I find myself pursued by alien life forms whose intentions placed humanity on the verge of subjugation. What in the world was going on? Are these beings connected with world affairs? Have they infiltrated the government?”

  “There has always been the need for human collaboration,” Marco replied.

  “I need to know more.”

  Marco wrestled with time constraints. He couldn’t explain the entire matter while minutes away from capture or death. Yet he knew he had to offer Tomma something.

  “They’re genetically engineered Homo sapiens with electrical properties,” he grappled with a means of portrayal. “Bioluminescent marine organisms, such as dinoflagellates or single-celled algae,” he continued, “are similarly adapted for transmitting light waves, so to speak. One well-known classification of earthworm, Diplocardia longa, is an example of a terrestrial organism with similar bioluminescent capabilities. The same is true of Omphalotus nidiformis, a type of bioluminescent mushroom. All of these organisms are endowed with a fluorescent molecule called green fluorescent protein, or GFP. Laboratory trials have led to the extraction, purification, and cloning of this protein. These beings are the culmination of years of genetic research, unifying human genes with those of bioluminescent organisms. To put it simply, they’re the morphological equivalent of bioluminescent mermen, with resultant aqua-terrestrial attributes. They’re suitably adapted for survival in either environment.”

  “Talk about retrogression,” Tomma murmured. “Do they walk upright?”

  “Their outward appearance is entirely human in daylight, except for a minute extension to their tailbone. Of course, ordinary humans cannot view them at night, unless they choose to discharge synchronous fluorescent light waves.”

  “You mentioned they possess control of this feature?”

  “Through a mechanism an
alogous to a dimmer switch. Their bioluminescent oscillations are similar in frequency to the pulsations emitted by fireflies, only a trillion times faster. You can only view their bioluminescent attributes under low light. However, their need for solar nourishment causes them to idle, sort of on standby. That’s why their human attributes become apparent during the day. Animals, in particular nocturnal species, are capable of detecting their presence day or night. They possess a highly reflective optic membrane called the tapetum lucidum, used for refraction. With the use of this membrane they’re capable of forming images from the most minuscule electrical emissions. They can perceive telepathic communications.”

  Marco scrutinized Tomma’s face for signs of understanding.

  “I think I follow,” Tomma nodded. At least he had a concept on which to build, albeit creatures like the Anglerfish and jellyfish, Aequorea Victoria, a hydromedusa, filled his mind with pretty images. Their bioluminescent capabilities hardly seemed fraught with sinister implications. Too many pieces were missing.

  “They’re really quite beautiful.” Marco echoed Tomma’s thoughts. “Sadly, the appearance of beauty often belies intent to do evil.”

  “What are their desires? To rule or destroy?”

  “The accomplishment of the one may well lead to the other. Their purpose is to wrest control of planetary dominion from humanity.”

  “How?”

  “We’ve an idea,” Marco answered.

  “So they’re capable of nighttime concealment while appearing human by day, with aqua-terrestrial adaptability. Do they possess any other attributes?”

  Marco’s eyes widened at the sound of screeching tires. “They’re coming!”

  Tomma started the car and sped off, his mind burgeoning with scraps of information and unanswered questions. Marco busily performed keystrokes

  “What are you doing?” Tomma asked with a glance in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it is, you’d better hurry. We’ve a tail, and I don’t mean of the animal variety.” Marco finished typing and dove beneath the dashboard.

  With traffic hampering a means of outdistancing their pursuers and road conditions turning treacherous from snow, Tomma changed lanes and headed for the highway. “I’m heading for the home of a trusted friend. He’s a professor in biomedical engineering,” he said without expecting a comeback.

  “GOOD IDEA,” flashed the screen. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “For what?”

  “To finish my adjustments. These modifications should enable us to sustain a speed of three-hundred miles per hour without compromising integrity.”

  “Three hundred miles per hour! The highway patrol will be after us.”

  “They’ll soon lose sight of our position.”

  “I’ve never driven that fast. We could wreck.”

  “Give me the coordinates.”

  “What?”

  “Your friend’s address.”

  “Why?”

  “The coordinates, please.” Tomma supplied him with the address to Al’s home. “Had I known of our destination, I would’ve simply brought you to me.”

  “Huh?”

  “The facility where I lived is less than three miles from your friend’s home.”

  “Baffin Labs?”

  “The same.”

  Tomma continued, “Do you think our friends back there will figure out where we’re headed?”

  “Not unless humans have uncovered their own telepathic abilities.” Tomma chuckled.

  “As for Nemonites,” Marco continued, “they aren’t capable of deciphering electrical impulses emitted by brainwaves. Such transmissions still require intermediary processes to retrieve and analyze data. They can’t read minds.”

  “That’s at least hopeful.”

  “For the moment,” Marco agreed. “That doesn’t preclude their ability for overcoming such obstacles. They’re adept at ruling-out what’s known from what isn’t. One alternative is to pinpoint our location by honing in on vehicular emission.”

  “Nemonites?”

  “Baffin’s superhuman beings.” Marco gave Tomma time to absorb this pronouncement. “You should now accelerate if we intend to outrun them.”

  “They’re less than twenty car lengths behind.”

  When Tomma stepped on the accelerator, the Crossfire lurched and seemed about to stall, when all at once the engine revved. Marco nodded. The engine control module recognized his alterations. Communication had been established between the digital computer and circuitry with sensors and control outputs. One more second should do it. Before Tomma could prepare, the car shot forward like an Mk-13 from a missile launcher. The headlights in the rearview mirror grew distant.

  “This is great,” Tomma laughed, smoothly clearing the rear of a flatbed truck. Traffic had thinned, opening up long stretches of uninterrupted road. “You’re amazing.” Tomma accelerated to two hundred fifty miles per hour. “We should arrive at Al’s home in a fraction of the time.”

  Marco, however, worried over the message he’d sent while underneath the dashboard, hoping his encryptions avoided detection.

  A blinding veil of snow converged with the headlights, causing the road’s disappearance. Just when Tomma decided to decelerate, the car went around a bend and lost traction. Overcompensating by jerking the steering wheel, Tomma sent them rocketing off the road toward the woods. He watched Marco dive to the floor seconds before the airbag struck him.

  The dense underbrush slowed the car’s momentum, until it crashed into the boughs of an immense pine. Heavy, white powder instantly began erasing evidence of their departure from the road.

  Marco lay on the floorboard, pinned beneath the laptop. After struggling free he tore into the airbag, causing its deflation. Thankfully, the car had landed upright. He likewise deflated the driver’s side airbag and scrambled onto Tomma’s chest. Despite having made good time, their pursuers would be less than thirty minutes behind. Marco hoped the blizzard hid their presence in the woods. He crawled to Tomma’s mouth where shallow breaths puffed into his face. Pressing his nose to Tomma’s carotid he found a strong, erratic pulse. A small gash above Tomma’s left eye bled slightly. He pinched Tomma’s right hand, eliciting a groan. He did the same for the left. Traveling the length of Tomma’s body he tested for sensation. He found a possible break in Tomma’s right ankle. Returning to Tomma’s face, he slapped the icy flesh whereupon Tomma grunted. Marco desperately pulled on Tomma’s ears in an effort to hurry consciousness.

  “Wha the fuh...”

  Possible concussion. He turned his attention to the laptop. Further headway rested with his ability to summon help. They weren’t going anywhere on their own.

  Upon opening the laptop he detected what would’ve been indiscernible to human ears. His pinnae rotated like mini satellite dishes, listening for signs of intent.

  Stealth.

  Something was scouring the woods.

  Categorizing the impressions on the snow revealed some were large and heavy − others small and light. Pheromones processed by his brain were presently benign, but relative to the animal kingdom, readings of that nature could change without warning. Helpless to defend Tomma, he opted to save himself. The success of the mission rested with him.

  He squeezed through the jagged windshield and jumped from the hood. No use covering his tracks. These creatures tracked by extraordinary methods. He hid behind a cluster of branches.

  A dozen small forms emerged in the clearing where they hesitated, most likely classifying the odors emanating from the wreck. Despite the minimization of his visual capabilities, he determined their species.

  Rats.

  What he couldn’t ascertain were their affiliations.

  His answer came when Lancelot spotted the car and sped in that direction. Marco tore out of the brush and raced to intercept him. Others soon joined them.

  “We received your message and set out immediately,” Lancelot told him. “We came across some deer who told us of an accident. We decide
d to check it out.”

  “Tomma’s hurt and can’t move on his own,” Marco informed him. “Do you know our exact location?”

  “His friend’s home is less than two miles.”

  “How do we move him?”

  Lancelot signaled several rats. They took off into the woods and soon returned leading a pair of mountain lions. Engaged with their arrival, Marco was caught off guard by the shimmering, pink light from behind. Transfixed by its luminosity, for a long moment he stood mesmerized.

  Nemonites!

  An intense fear dropped him in the snow where all four legs resembled tiny twigs. Lancelot, who understood the ramifications to Marco’s predicament, rushed to his side. “This is Cryallis. She’s an ally. Marco, she’s our friend!”

  Marco never heard. His brain busily activated the defense mechanism contained in a modular component of his implant. A database prepared to download the host locations to innumerable living and non-living viruses. Once complete, execution for the worldwide release of these invaders would commence with the speed of light.

  One Long Holiday

  Ben Cheetham

  It had been a calm evening, but around midnight a storm rose suddenly out of the south. Connor stood at the bedroom window, listening to waves pounding against the long neglected sea-wall. The storm grew in intensity and hailstones the size of eggs clattered off the roof.

  “Come to bed,” Scarlett said.

  Connor climbed in beside her and slid his arm under her neck. “There’ll be a lot of bodies out there tomorrow.”

  Scarlett shushed him. “Go to sleep.”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered. “I can hear screaming.”

  “It’s just the wind.”

  The noise continued relentlessly. Connor plugged his ears with his fingers, but nothing could block it out. It resonated along his bones and vibrated in his temples, edging him towards hysteria. Finally, he gave up on sleep, went downstairs, and tried the radio. The news that crackled out of it was depressingly familiar. Storms devastating cities on the Atlantic and Pacific seaboards. Water wars raging across Southern Europe. Floods, famines, uncontrollable wildfires, a hundred dead here, a hundred thousand dead there. Numberless refugees fleeing north. And the heat, the relentless heat of a planet that had been converted into a Dutch oven from hell. Connor concentrated on the flat, precise tone of the announcer’s voice and felt himself slowly lulled to sleep.