by John O'Brien
* * * * * *
At first, it was noticed only on a subliminal level. Then, the persistent beeping finally intruded through the layers of deep concentration. With a sigh of frustration, Susan looked up from editing the story she was hoping to finish in time to submit for publication in that month’s journal. She had been working on the document for some time, ever since she was assigned to the SDO project.
“Night shifts were supposed to be slow,” she muttered.
A flashing red light, in tune with the beeping, appeared next to one of the nearby consoles. Marking her place on the red-lined document, she slid her wheeled chair over to the monitor. At the screen, Susan observed several lines of data that were highlighted and flashing. With several keystrokes, the alarm was silenced and the flashing red light went dark. She then returned her attention to the flashing numbers. Seeing the values, she rubbed her eyes and looked again, her heartbeat rising when the numbers didn’t change.
Sliding over to an adjacent console, she pulled up a video being sent from the satellite far above. Seeing that it corresponded with the numbers being shown, she picked up the phone and called her supervisor. After relaying the numbers and her observations, the questions began.
“Yes, sir, I have validated them. The numbers are correct,” Susan stated into the mouthpiece. “It’s moving fast. Initial estimates place it at hitting in nearly twenty-eight hours, although those are just preliminary numbers. I’ll have more data soon and will be able to pinpoint its speed.
“Yes, sir. At its present speed, computer modeling predicts a 67 percent chance of the outer edge of the solar storm impacting earth.
“Yes, sir. I’ll initiate the recall. See you soon,” Susan said.
She replaced the cradle momentarily before picking it up again to start dialing a series of cell phones.
* * * * * *
Bodies were packed tightly around the monitor, shoulders squeezing together as Susan replayed the video. All eyes were focused on the screen as they watched the large flare arc outward, one of the largest any had ever witnessed, and circle around within the magnetic field of the sun. It would be a beautiful sight if it weren’t for what followed. More awful than awesome, the fear it created in each of them, elevating their heartbeats and releasing a flow of adrenaline, made it seem like a monster rising from the depths of a lake.
Eyes stared at the video as the solar flare suddenly snapped back to the corona, traveling the distance from its outermost limit back to the surface faster than any of those watching would have thought possible. There was a moment of calm—then the surface erupted. Heated gasses and material were thrown into space in one of the largest corona mass ejections (CMEs) ever recorded. The room was silent as everyone watched in awe, and with no small amount of dread. In their thoughts, each in a different way, they knew that humankind had now stepped into the unknown.
“What’s the current data show?” Susan’s supervisor asked, interrupting the awed silence.
Sliding to the side, Susan’s chair momentarily getting hung up on feet before they shuffled out of the way, she brought up the screen showing the raw data.
“At the moment, it appears that the CME is traveling at nearly 2,000 kms. That would place it within earth’s orbit in twenty-one hours, plus or minus four to six hours,” Susan replied.
“That’s the largest solar storm we’ve ever recorded,” a voice in the back stated.
“And the chance of earth impact?” the supervisor asked, ignoring the comment.
“With the increase in trajectory speed, 83 percent,” Susan answered.
“That’s too close for comfort. Initiate a full recall.”
“Shall we begin the alert notifications?” Susan asked.
“No. I’ll be contacting the director within the minute. Stand by and keep monitoring. We’re going to want up-to-date numbers on notice.”
* * * * * *
Air Force One, somewhere over the Atlantic
President Kelson lay on his back atop the covers, his fingers linked together behind his head. His eyes were closed yet he remained awake, enjoying a moment of peace that was a rarity in the life of a leader of state. The refreshing feeling of his feet clad only in his socks was almost beyond compare given that he had to wear dress shoes for most of the eighteen-hour days he put in.
It’s amazing the little things that make a difference, he thought, with a contented sigh.
A soft knock at the door intruded upon his peaceful solitude.
Dammit, this is the only time I can actually get some rest, Kelson thought, relishing any time aboard Air Force One.
“Yes, what is it?” he responded to the knock.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. President, but there’s an urgent call from NASA,” one of the Secret Service agents answered from the other side of the door.
“Thank you. I’ll take the call in here,” Kelson stated, rising with no small amount of irritation.
* * * * * *
“Well, gentlemen, that’s about the gist of it. I want my cabinet on a conference call within fifteen minutes. Call ahead and cancel our arrival and participation at the economic summit with our apologies,” President Kelson stated.
“How long did they say we have?” an aide asked.
“They said it was fast moving…perhaps twenty-one hours, although the data is nearly an hour old,” Kelson answered, watching the shadows on his desk move as Air Force One began a gentle turn, setting a course for home.
In fourteen minutes, all of the cabinet heads were connected on a conference call. The NASA director gave a synopsis of the solar storm on an intercept course with earth. He continued with the potential impacts, the most serious he noted were the expected communications outages and the possibility of power grid outages.
“How big of a storm are we looking at?” the Secretary of Defense asked.
“The largest we’ve ever experienced was an x40 classification. The initial data show that this one will be as big, if not larger,” the NASA director answered. “We’ll know more as it nears the satellite monitoring it.”
“How long will communications be impacted?” the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff asked.
“That’s unknown at this point. This is larger than anything we’ve ever encountered. Our best guess is that we’ll experience a communication outage across the board for as long as it takes the storm to pass. After that, it depends on how extensive the damage is to the satellites. I think we should prepare for the worst, however, and anticipate several days. General, I want to mention that will also include GPS and Keyhole data,” the NASA director answered.
“So, what you’re saying is that we’ll basically be blind for an indeterminate amount of time?”
“I’m afraid so. I wish I could have better information, but like I mentioned, we’ve never encountered anything of this magnitude.”
“Is there a possibility that the shielding on the satellites will hold up against the electromagnetic radiation?”
“It’s possible, but not guaranteed.”
“Mr. President, this will alter our current plans for operations overseas.”
“Agreed. Plan accordingly, General,” Kelson replied. “I want our reserve satellites on the launch pad and ready to go. And I think we should abandon the ISS.”
“I concur, Mr. President,” the NASA director said. “And we have already initiated the transport of several satellites. We should have them ready within seventy-two hours at the most.”
“So, then, although we may be looking at a temporary outage, we can plan for services to be restored within three days?” the chairman asked.
“Services will have to be placed on a priority basis, but yes, we should have limited services available within that time. We won’t be able to replace everything we have aloft should they go down, but we can certainly have something up and running.”
“Okay, we can’t protect the power grid any more than we already have, so we need to enact our contingencies to provid
e services to communities in case the power goes out. In most cases, the National Guard can handle that. However, with the number of units we currently have overseas, FEMA will have to take over a lot of that load. Find out which states will need the most help and offer Homeland Security personnel. We don’t have a lot of time to prepare, but I want to make sure we’re as ready as we’re able,” Kelson stated. “Begin moving units into staging points.”
“And the people, sir, are we going to notify the populace?” the director of Homeland Security asked.
“We all know that could go wrong, but the news will get out regardless of what we do. We aren’t the only ones who have this information, so let’s not be seen as withholding it. Our trust level is already low. I think we issue a news release talking about the potential of service outages, like we’ve done in the past. Minimize the severity of the storm and the damage potential,” Kelson relayed. “We want to impart a warning, but downplay it so that we don’t start a panic.”
“Sir, that storm is carrying a lot of radiation along with it,” the NASA director stated.
“Will it be a danger to people outside?”
“I’m not sure. The magnetic shield should protect us from most of it, but we’ve never experienced something like this. Computer models indicate we should be okay, but those also have a small percentage of error.”
“Okay, let’s include in the warning to stay inside during certain hours. When do we actually anticipate it hitting?”
“In the late afternoon for most of the US.”
“Okay, then issue a warning to stay indoors for the day, beginning at noon and ending with sunset. Will that be a sufficient amount of time?”
“I would think so, sir.”
“Okay, this could cause a run on the stores and possibly spark riots. I’ll notify the governors as soon as we finish here to warn them and ascertain what kind of help they’ll require. Also, in order to prevent a run on the banks and a stock market collapse, I suggest we have contingencies in place to close both should we need to.”
“If this is as bad as it seems like it could be, I think we should discuss implementing martial law,” the Homeland Security director said.
“I don’t think we need to go that far; the governors can make that call if they feel it necessary. The populace already thinks we’re looking for reasons to implement that. There will be riots once news gets out, but I don’t see how we can entirely avoid that. In the release, we will stipulate not to panic, that we’ve encountered solar storms in the past and weathered them with little damage or service outages.”
“We haven’t been through one of this magnitude.”
“That, we don’t mention.”
“What about the press corps sitting up front?”
“They’ll be notified when we issue the press release. Now, we have a lot to do within a short amount of time. I say we get to it,” Kelson stated.
* * * * * *
SDO (Solar Dynamics Observatory) Satellite, 22,000 miles from earth
The coronal mass ejection, along with the accompanying solar storm, didn’t arrive in the anticipated twenty-one hours. It made the ninety-six million mile trip in just over seventeen. Little SDO continued its station-keeping position, sending a stream of uninterrupted data earthbound as it monitored the event driving toward it at 2,500 kms.
The satellite bucked in the sudden turbulence as the leading edge of the storm arrived. It continued sending its data as its programming dictated. Station-keeping motors fired in an attempt to keep it in position. It rode the storm like a small ship encountering hurricane-force winds.
The storm swarmed around the satellite, engulfing it. Electromagnetic energy knifed into its components, penetrating its shielded circuitry. Unable to keep the energy at bay, Little SDO died in a flurry of sparks. There wasn’t any scream or last minute thoughts. It just became another piece of flotsam riding the gigantic wave.
* * * * * *
Goddard Space Center: Maryland
Susan, tired beyond belief from the continual hours of monitoring the data sent from Little SDO, with only a couple of catnaps and lots of caffeine to keep her going, watched as the numbers on the monitor in front of her vanished. Staring at the blank screen, she shook her head not because they vanished, but because of the readings that were transmitted just before the stream stopped. A few keystrokes later, she verified that they had, in fact, lost their monitoring satellite.
A coworker looked on. “Holy shit! Were those numbers for real?”
“I’m afraid so,” Susan replied.
“But…but that last reading showed an x68 classification…and the numbers were still rising. We may be looking at our first ever Z classification. We need to call the director.”
“Too late,” Susan wearily stated, knowing what the numbers meant.
* * * * * *
Six seconds after passing Little SDO, the solar storm reached the first of the outer communication satellites. Their shielding also couldn’t handle the amount of electromagnetic energy carried on the storm. They, too, joined Little SDO as flotsam. Eight seconds later, the storm hit earth.
The leading edge impacted the upper atmosphere, parted, and began encircling the rock and water planet. It took six seconds for the leading edge to pass, meeting on the other side. The earth’s magnetic field elongated from the onslaught. The convergence of the two edges on the nighttime side created terawatts of power that snapped back toward the earth with tremendous force. The electromagnetic pulse created by the collision of the two ends circled the globe in the opposite direction.
It took six seconds for the storm to engulf the world. It took ten for the civilization that had sprung up there to collapse. Waves continued sweeping past, hitting the earth and launching farther into space.
In 17 hours, 14 minutes, and 31 seconds from the first indication of the massive corona mass ejection, all of the lights on earth went dark. Then, 2 hours, 16 minutes, and 48 seconds after impact, the tail end of the gigantic solar storm passed, leaving in its wake a world forever changed.
Solar Aftermath
The leading edge of the solar storm reached the atmosphere, interacting with the magnetic field to produce a light show the likes of which had never before been witnessed. Seconds later, the electromagnetic pulse, that extraordinary wave hosting both high and low frequencies, swept over the world, the second wave to hit both the planet and everything living on its surface.
Most people ignored the alert to stay indoors, carrying on with business as usual—their lives too busy to be interrupted. Many eyes turned upward to witness the streams of glowing green streaking across an early summer sky, visible even during daylight. Where the weather permitted, people stopped what they were doing to marvel at the gracefully dancing lights. Some wondered if perhaps they hadn’t made a mistake in ignoring the alert, but most pointed skyward with ooohs and awwws as if they were watching a meteor shower.
At first, a couple of the onlookers paused in their observations of the light show, then more joined in as something else intruded into their consciousness: silence. Other than the murmuring of whatever crowd they happened to be in, they noticed the absence of all sounds. No vehicles passing on the streets, honks of impatient motorists, background buzz of a functioning civilization—all gone. Heads turned at the sudden hush, sensing that something was wrong and searching for the cause. The tension of the silence built within each of them, as if they’d been thrown into an unfamiliar environment and a predator was nearby. All looked around in wonder at the sudden hush over the trappings of civilization.
The EMP wave that rolled across the planet’s surface wasn’t sentient. It didn’t have feelings, it wasn’t out for vengeance, it wasn’t the voice of God. It didn’t care; it had no consciousness. It merely went on its way, conforming to its physical properties, its energy obliterating everything electrical in its path. Anything that contained electrical power or stored an ounce of electricity, died instantly.
The terawat
ts of power reached into the earth’s surface and below the waters, affecting electronics buried deep within the depths. Although the oceans acted as a ground and provided some protection, the low frequency waves accompanying the pulse reached below the surface. In seconds, it was over, and in its wake, the EMP wave left darkness and the silence that was just now being noticed.
In those scant few seconds, all of the services people had become used to, taken for granted, came to an instant and silent halt. Banking centers and the computers handling data in secure vaults deep underground went dark. The bits of data denoting one’s riches were gone in an instant, as if those dollars, euros, pounds, and other denominations had been just an illusion.
The stock market floor had been a chaotic frenzy of traders, the shouts of each attempting to rise above others. The market looked to be on an upswing, bringing yet more energy to the hectic mess that was everyday life on the floor. Numbers flowed across screens in a language only understood by those yelling and waving pieces of paper in the air. To an outsider, it would seem a tumultuous orgy, but to those working it, it was comprehended in an orderly fashion. The shouts were heard by those who needed to hear them. Nods and hand gestures finalized deals.
Then, everything went dark. The scrolling letters and numbers ceased, the monitors showing immense amounts of financial information went blank. Every overhead light winked out, plunging the floor into a deep gloom. Weak light filtered in from the few heavily tinted windows and radiated for a couple of feet from the doorways. The tumultuous roar that filled the large room subsided into a confused murmur. Silence ensued for a brief moment as the traders waited for the lights to come on and for trading to open once more. That didn’t happen.
The silence was so absolute that it almost hurt the ears of those who had become used to the constant noise. Those standing in the confused hush could hear the heavy breathing of others nearby, yet could only see the dimmest outline of anyone. Shoulders were bumped as people on the crowded floor moved, barely able to see.
