Zombie Zero

by J. K. Norry

  “You guys are so mean to each other,” Elayna noted quietly.

  Maya tugged at her frumpy blouse. “And where were you last night? With Ronnie?”

  “Ugh,” Elayna made a face. “Please don’t mention that name.”

  Todd sighed with visible relief. Elayna peered at him over Maya’s lap.

  “There’s something seriously wrong with your friend, you know,” she said. Allen watched the muscles that had just relaxed in Todd’s back as they bunched tensely. Todd shook his head.

  “I told you to leave me out of it,” he said.

  “Because you know there’s something seriously wrong with your friend,” she shot back.

  “Of course there is,” Allen laughed. “He’s friends with brainless here. Is that not indication enough that there’s something seriously wrong with the guy?”

  Elayna shook her head slowly. “Aren’t you his friend?”

  “Him?” Allen sputtered, and made as if to spit in the grass. “Bite your tongue, young lady! Todd is my Lex Luthor.”

  Now it was Todd’s turn to sputter.

  “Oh, no!” he laughed. “Does that make you Superman? Put your heads between your legs and kiss your asses goodbye, folks. We’re all doomed!”

  Chapter 2

  A thick slab of stone that appeared to be nothing more than a wall shifted for the first time in thousands of years. Deep within the great pyramid, sand drifted with the motion. A quiet click did not sound, as there was no one there to hear it; and the slab of stone did not move to reveal a dark chamber beyond, as there was no one there to see it. For the first time since the last time, the room was filled with the air that carried the modern world on its currents. Electronic information flooded the space silently, billions of voices crying out their anguished swan song as one soundless symphony. A symbol began to glow on the wall, the glow immediately starting to fade. As if a battery was wearing down, or a dimmer switch was slowly being turned by some unseen hand, the light behind the symbol continued to die in almost imperceptible increments. At the same time, on the other side of the world…

  “Professor Mallory,” the dean said calmly, “I must request that you withhold any manuscripts that you have written or are writing from subsequent publication.”

  “Dean Dreece,” Mallory responded, imitating his formal tone. “I must ask you to explain yourself.”

  They stared at each other across the dean’s wide desk. After a few moments, they both broke into laughter.

  “Seriously, Adam,” Mallory said. “What the hell?”

  The dean moved a pile of papers closer to him on his desk. He read aloud from one. “‘The problems that threaten our world are not problems in and of themselves; they are symptoms of a problem. That problem is irresponsible excessive propagation of the human race. Thousands of years ago, the decree to ‘go forth and multiply’ was an important one for the human race to follow, and parents were selflessly serving humanity by having as many offspring as possible. Now the sky and the earth are being choked to death by that ongoing rampant multiplication. The most selfish and destructive thing a person can do is bring yet another child into this already overly taxed environment. The selfish blindness of the modern parent will lead to the extinction of mankind if not reigned in.’”

  Mallory frowned. “That’s from my blog.”

  “John.” The dean glanced at the next printout. “Seriously? You’re preaching government-mandated population control.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mallory muttered. “I’m basing the whole book on the absence of personal and financial responsibility in a large number of parents. If I were preaching anything, it would be an overhaul of the public school and tax distribution systems in our country. Pointing out an obvious problem or the obvious solution is just me stating the obvious. Putting the weight of the responsibility where it belongs is the purpose of my book. If we can dispel the age old myth that there is something inherently selfless in having a child, people will have more time and money to invest in our greatest resource.”

  “Devil’s Brew Stout Ale?” Dreece grinned while he poked. Mallory loved his beer; it was the only thing he took more seriously than social injustice and forgotten languages.

  “Personal development.” Mallory made a face at his friend. “Each generation’s values are being diluted by the growing parental ineptitude of the last. People who can barely hold down menial jobs or perform anything more than the most basic task are being thrust into positions of ultimate power in their homes simply by having unprotected sex. Their partners leave them, because they are clearly intolerable and incomplete human beings, but the kid or kids are stuck being led into life by someone who has never been considered for any kind of leadership role before. For obvious reasons.”

  The dean sighed. He indicated the bottles displayed across the room.

  “Tell me you’re taking down the blog, John,” he said, “or pour me a drink. Even better, do both.”

  “Dammit,” Mallory swore, moving to the bar. “You quashed my last blog. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write the book on gender inequality that I had planned without some forum to test my ideas and get feedback. You can’t have this one too.”

  “I have an idea,” the dean said. “What if the only reason that infinite worlds exist is because someone thought of them? What if the only people who are represented multiple times throughout the infinite worlds are the people who seriously consider the possibility of infinite worlds?”

  The professor poured them each a finger of scotch. He eyed the dean skeptically as he neared with the drinks.

  “You definitely need this more than me.” Mallory set the glass on the desk. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about an idea,” Dreece shrugged. “It’s been proven that science fiction and quantum theory were right all along. There are other dimensions out there, wherever ‘out there’ is. Besides floating in apparently unending space in all directions, we are also sandwiched between infinite dimensions of reality. Each of these dimensions is as vast as our own, and many are assumed to be virtually the same as ours. Science itself now tells us that every minor decision we make results in a variety of other versions of ourselves. Each version makes a slightly different decision, and the different courses taken result in a whole new reality for both the individual and the world.”

  Mallory drained his drink. “How many times are you going to multiply infinity times itself like a child before you get to the point?”

  Dreece laughed. “I’m thinking about writing a book around this idea, with some people from our world that are obviously interested in the theory of infinite universes. I have some other very compelling ideas for the main characters that would help show even further that this may indeed even be the Earth they know, only thousands of years ago. Perhaps each universe keeps repeating some pattern in the same way, reaching for an opportunity to break out of that pattern. Perhaps each universe has its own pattern, slightly or completely different from ours. Perhaps key players who let their minds wander to these possibilities tend to show up in every new age, and in many of these dimensions.”

  “Sounds like another best seller from the great Adam Dreece.” Mallory stood and picked up both of their glasses. He threw Dreece a wink to make sure he knew that the comment was made in all seriousness, and sincere admiration.

  “You know what my students say when I tell them there’s a test coming up?” Mallory put more intoxicant in each glass this time before bringing them back to the dean’s desk. “Yig!”

  They laughed together. It was the swear word from Dreece’s fantasy series that had swept more than one nation of young readers off its feet.

  “What’s it like to be dean of a prestigious school full of kids that grew up reading your books?” Mallory asked, not for the first time. “Truly, Adam, how’s the good life?”

  Dreece shrugged. “Pretty good.”

  He took a sip, cleared his throat.

  “Th
at’s my point, John,” the dean said gently. “Maybe instead of trying to rile folks up with a non-fiction commentary on what awful people a large percentage of the population are, you could write a fiction story that touches on all of the things you want to say. Isn’t Ayn Rand your favorite author? Didn’t she write in the introduction to one of her most popular books that an idea wasn’t worth exploring if a compelling story couldn’t be written around it?”

  “She did,” Mallory nodded. “Then she wrote nothing but non-fiction for the rest of her life.”

  “So why not write a compelling story to exorcise your demons?” Dreece suggested, ignoring the comment. “You can’t write about men’s rights, John. A non-fiction book about gender inequality from a privileged white male perspective will do nothing but get you excommunicated from society and fired from your job. Leave that field to the few intelligent women willing to see the disparity. Christina Hoff Sommers has a slim chance of being heard, but she’s already brilliantly saying everything that needs to be said. If the people want to listen, they will more likely listen to her than you. Write about overpopulation if you want to, but don’t alienate most of your potential audience with the title. ‘Parents, The Selfish Ones’? Please, John. Seriously.”

  “The first chapter explains how I’m not talking about parents like you, or me, or the many other people who actually take responsibility for their children’s upbringing,” Mallory said, a little defensively.

  “I don’t know that by reading the title,” Dreece pointed out.

  “Well, the abstract should take care of that,” Mallory retorted. “The full working title is ‘Parents, The Selfish Ones: A Study On How The Lack Of Personal Responsibility In Many Modern Parents Has Produced A Nation Of Largely Worthless Offspring.”

  Dreece whistled. “Your abstract is too abstract, and that title is way too long. And, again, alienating. Think of a story, John, for your sake and mine. Take down the blog. I can’t resist the pressures of the powers that be any longer.”

  Mallory frowned. “I’ve got tenure.”

  “John, please.” Dreece folded his hands in front of him. “I know you are trying to get fired. Is this your alternative to going to Mars? Exile yourself from life on Earth but still live here?”

  Mallory’s eyes went wide. “What the hell? I never told you I applied to go to Mars.”

  Dreece nodded. “I know. Some friend you are. I had to find out when I got a call from the selection board. The selection board for who would be the first to colonize Mars. At first I thought it was a joke.”

  “What did you say to them?”

  “I told them that I need you, that this school needs you, that Earth needs you,” the dean scoffed. “They won’t let anyone from the first wave come back, you know. Ever.”

  “I know,” Mallory retorted. “You son of a bitch. You may have ruined my chances.”

  “I doubt it,” Dreece said. “If that kind of statement doesn’t move you up the list, the people putting it together are fools. I wished afterwards that I had told them you were a bumbling idiot who could barely tie his own shoes. Nonetheless, I was glad when the list was announced as completed that I didn’t receive a letter of resignation from you.”

  Mallory watched the dean drain his drink. The professor raised an eyebrow at the empty glasses, together on the desk between them. Dreece shook his head.

  “What about Elayna?” Dreece asked quietly. “Did you tell her?”

  Mallory frowned. “I didn’t. She would have taken it the wrong way.”

  “The wrong way?” The dean narrowed his eyes. “Is there a right way to take the news that your only surviving parent is leaving the planet for good, and you have no option to follow?”

  “She doesn’t need me any more,” Mallory frowned. “She never really did. Elayna raised me more than I raised her. The last thing she needs is her irrelevant old man casting the same shadow over her adult life that I darkened her childhood with.”

  “Is that how she feels?” Dreece demanded.

  Mallory shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

  “Is that why she chose this school to pursue her degree, to get away from you and your dark shadow?” Now Dreece was the angry one, Mallory sinking back in his chair to calmly accept the barrage.

  “Is that why she stops between classes to talk with you on a regular basis?” Dreece pressed him. “Is that why you have dinner together two or three times a week? You’ve given her her freedom, John, too much too soon if you ask some parents; but she never went far with it, and she always comes back to you. Why can’t you simply accept that your daughter loves you, and wants you in her life?”

  “She’s just taking care of me, like she always has,” Mallory sighed. “I thought if I could put myself beyond her reach that she might finally let herself outgrow me.”

  “Who’s being the selfish parent now?” Dreece scoffed.

  He stood, signaling the end of their conversation.

  “Please, John,” the dean said, calm once more. “Take down the blog. Use the time you have been putting towards pointing out what’s wrong in the world to look at what’s good in your life. Consider the possibility that this is just a mid-life crisis. Buy a sports car, or sleep with a student. That I can get you out of. But not this. Listen to your friend’s advice before it becomes your boss’ ultimatum.”

  Mallory’s eyebrows shot up, and the dean nodded. They shook hands over the desk. The professor silently turned and walked away, and his hand was on the doorknob when he stopped. He looked over his shoulder at the dean.

  “Thanks, Adam,” he said. “I hope the John Mallory in every world has an Adam Dreece to keep him in line. You’re a good friend.”

  “Get the hell out of here,” Dreece grinned.

  Chapter 3

  In harsh and lush environments around the globe, peoples native to the land stopped as one. Those that slept woke from their slumber to leave their shelter and lift their faces to glow in the light of the full moon. They stared together to the heavens, some at a dark and starry night and others at a bright sunny sky, lost in a shared inner vision. When the vision was over, the dead that awaited ceremony or consumption were burned immediately. The people near the oceans began to work. They chopped at trees and peeled at vines, stacking them for curing and wrapping. The peoples that lived inland began the long trek to the ocean, quietly moving across desert plains and through dense jungle foliage. Any who died were immediately burned, even in the tribes where the valuable protein was needed. In the same moment, in what many would call America…

  Mallory looked out over the sea of blank faces. Most of the students had recorded the lecture, or taken notes in a detached and routine manner. He couldn’t blame them for not being excited by what he was teaching; the most interesting aspects of his field were the most controversial, and those were specifically excluded from the curriculum.

  “So let’s talk about what they don’t say in the books,” Mallory said.

  It was a transformation that he was used to seeing. Most of the class turned off their recording devices or shut their notebooks. About a quarter of them roused themselves from their bored reverie and leaned forward in their seats. This was what they were here for. Mallory fought the urge to smile: this was what he was here for too.

  One student called out. “Will this be on the test?”

  “No.” Mallory did smile now.

  The student crossed his arms before him on the desk and laid his head down to take a nap.

  “When I first started teaching it was believed that mankind had been nothing but a thinking animal until a few thousand years ago.” Mallory heard his voice change as his audience did. “The oldest complicated architecture we knew of were the pyramids in Egypt, and they were estimated to be about two or three thousand years old.”

  One student guffawed at that. He was always the one most interested in these talks. He was also the only student failing the class.

  “It is difficult to find a common consens
us among archaeologists,” Mallory continued. “But quite a bit of evidence has shown up regarding both the pyramids and a number of other sites that suggest that mankind has been working with far more than flint and clay for much longer than two or three thousand years.”

  “Gobeki Tepe!”

  “Göbekli Tepe,” Mallory nodded, slipping in the subtle correction. “That’s right, Josh. One of many sites that suggest that civilizations greater than our own in every way existed tens of thousands of years ago. The evidence of their technology is in the same place that ours would be if you went looking for evidence of it ten thousand years after we all suddenly disappeared…in the dust under our feet, and in the air that we breathe. The stone structures appear to be specifically built of natural materials that would stand the test of time, as if some of these civilizations knew that all other evidence of them would one day disappear. Göbekli Tepe was deliberately covered up thousands of years ago, and would be nothing but dust if it hadn’t been.”

  “Are you suggesting that people ten thousand years ago had cars and mobile phones?” A young woman piped up skeptically.

  “Or their own versions of such things, possibly,” Mallory shrugged. “You’ve all seen the ancient drawings of what can only be described as airplanes and tanks on stone walls. You’ve all read the King James version of the Christian Bible, with descriptions of ‘angels’ that flew using devices that sounded like rolling thunder and spewed white clouds out behind them. To modern man, that sounds like a description of technology, not magic or divine intervention. Many indigenous tribes have knowledge of our solar system and the universe beyond that suggests that some advanced civilization knew a great more about the stars than us and passed that knowledge to them.”

  “Most people know that science is discovering that there are many planets within a relatively short distance of us that could likely support life. This generation may be the first to seriously consider that we are not alone, no matter how lonely our corner of the universe. We may not all be so arrogant about being the most advanced version of life in the universe anymore; but perhaps we are mistaken in thinking that we are the most advanced version of humanity on Earth to date.”