by Marcus Sloss
I smashed some buttons on her Gpad. A news story of Gepstein hanging himself last night popped up. He committed suicide due to overwhelming grief from leaking false data regarding a hoax. At least that is what the article said. When Willow gave me a questioning look, I nodded in agreement that it was a cover-up news story.
My conversation this morning before the ‘struggle’ counseling had been with Jevon. We were going to treat this as one hundred percent real. The two of us had no doubt Dr. Gepstein was trying to help or that the brilliant man would refuse to kill himself.
“Oh my. Do you think you are under surveillance?” Willow said and I sighed.
“Doubtful, but better safe than sorry. Specialist Torrez would have gotten this message as well. Pew-Pew Emporium is my very next stop,” I said as I stepped back onto the sidewalk. Willow shuffled to catch up. “The RV stores are mostly closed for the weekend. Well, the one I want to buy from is anyway. Today is buying guns. Tomorrow I have slated for real estate shopping, the agents work weekends thankfully.”
“So, Eric. That is a single ship. Surely you cannot be worried about one ship… Right?”
“I will get into that in a moment. That video was from two months ago. Have you noticed anything in the news or in your life that is different?” I asked with my left brow arched.
“No, should I have?”
“Yes and no. I have. Where are all our fleets?” I asked and she tapped on her Gpad. Information unavailable returned on her Gpad as if the Gnet was broken. I frowned while watching her arm. I gave a loud disgruntled hmm… “That is new. They know that others know. I bet they are leaking big time as the knowledge spreads. Fleet locations was the first thing I looked at when the good doctor sent me a heads up. His earlier message simply told me to check the posturing of my arm.”
“You extrapolated to check our military readiness based on a hidden message about your arm? Did Dr. Gepstein install your cybernetic arm?”
“Yes, and before you think I am some wizard, his first message was part code. Dr. Gepstein and I happen to debate how long the good ole USA knew about the coming Saudi war. The Dr. predicted in 2028 the first signals were sent. Fleet posturing was his guess. Odd fleet movements that made no sense started then. He argued repositioning hundreds of ships was always a precursor to hidden knowledge. And correct, Dr. Gepstein was the lead scientist who built my arm.”
“What else did you find when you searched?”
“News stories of soldiers recalled from leave. Ships being spotted in fishing waters off North Carolina that should be in the Middle East. And finally, extra training everywhere since a sudden budget increase was sent to DOD. There is unlimited funds diverting -”
“Fuck me!” Willow blurted and covered her mouth. We were waiting for a walk signal beside a mom carrying her toddler on her hip. Willow received an angry scowl. “I am so sorry ma’am.” She waved apologetically at the woman before turning to me. “That is why UBI was short this month. I got eight hundred instead of twelve. The missing amount was sent a few days later though.”
“Probably borrowed money from idiot governments not in the know. Bulgaria is loaning out at twelve percent and emptying their coffers, not knowing what is coming. Speaking of finances suddenly appearing,” I said while showing my bank account to Willow. Her face was perplexed by the image she was seeing and I realized it was scrambled to prevent others from viewing. I closed it instead to tell her. “I was sent money. From whom or where I do not know. I had seventeen grand when I went to bed. I woke up with eleven million and change.”
“Shut the front door!” Willow exclaimed and the mom who was now ahead of us glanced back with squinted beady eyes. “Oh, come on, that one is okay!”
“We will laugh at this moment, I fear.”
“What do you mean? There is nothing comical about an overbearing mom with her toddler.”
“Willow, there is going to probably be chaos, death, and mayhem. When we think about a mom being offended by ‘shut the front door’. Yeah, I predict we will find it silly later. Let me come back to the point you had about a single ship. Last year, we discovered laser fusion that allowed gun manufacturers to produce the las-rifle. Ugh. I hate that name. Anyway, imagine me with the laser weapon in the middle ages. I could perch outside a city and snipe until my finger fell off. There would be no competition and even a charging cavalry could be massacred with enough battery packs. My point is, we do not have a ship that can do what that ship can. With that said, its weapons are probably vastly superior to what we have. They are not talking, Willow. Not a word.”
“How do you know?” Willow said as she showed fear for the first time.
“Logical conclusion. I bet President Hansen is desperate to spread the message that we are being visited by a friendly alien species. I know I would. Instead, there has been nothing. Which, to me, means the enemy is coming and they will crash through the gates.”
“What is your plan?”
“What is our plan?” I asked hesitantly. Willow spun the necklace around her neck while thinking. “You in?”
“Oh, I was in when I accepted this lovely gift. It has been a long time since a boy… man in your case, decided to learn more about me than what I look like naked. I will happily be your apocalypse girlfriend. Sorry, I hesitated because I am coming up with my own ‘to do lists’ to prepare,” Willow said and then proceeded to tap furiously on her Gpad.
The whine of an electric car sounded as the vehicle came to a stop a few feet in front of us. The door facing the sidewalk popped open and a chime sounded both inside the car and on her Gpad.
“Eric Yang, you get to make my kitty purr. Take me gun shopping!” Willow said as she dove into the auto-taxi. “These stupid things are recorded and monitored on a big screen. So how about we enjoy the ride? I always wanted to splurge and get first-class seats with massaging options.”
“Oh, I was wondering why you were getting in the front. Well, thanks for thinking. Here is your sweater. I need my shirt back before I get in,” I said, tossing Willow’s furry blue sweater into the auto-taxi. My shirt came flying out a moment later. “Thanks. Eighteen minutes of silence. I can say this though. I am happy you are coming.”
“This is the one adventure I think I have always dreamed about, in an odd way. More on that later. The second that door closes, the recording starts.”
I belted into the auto-taxi and sure enough, the door slid shut on its own. A chime sound notified us a recording would be in progress and to accept or leave the vehicle. The dash-less interior pinged green and the electric motor whined as it sped into traffic. The vehicle had seating for two in first class and six in the passenger class. There was no front section to the auto-taxi like in an old engine car. A clear acrylic dome occupied the space to allow full viewing as you transitioned forward. There were no manual overrides to control in this design. The intelligence box rested on the pinnacle wheel atop the central point of the automated ride. Below my seat sat the chassis and four electric motors. There was a trunk that had ample space and batteries under the compartment. To balance the weight under the front axle was the second battery housing unit.
My Gpad linked into the vehicle the moment we accepted the consent to be recorded form. I had selected to have my face and identity blocked by the monitor who was watching a thousand of these displays waiting for red to flare up. The auto taxis recorded for potential problems and if you caused any, your privacy was revealed. Mentioning aliens were coming and we were all going to die would flag the conversation and normally probably stick you in a tin foil hat grouping. I knew I would be throwing flags all over this city with my rash spending in the coming day. However, if I was smart about it, they would be filed away for further monitoring.
The serene side streets of the old city blocks with brick homes and fancy yards transitioned. We increased our speed to merge onto a busy interstate. My gaze shifted to the oblivious people enjoying their trip. Most were glued into their Gpads or Isquares. A few older f
olks were still staring at cell phones screens. The government-provided Gpads were the most common thing I saw human eyes gleefully synced to. We bypassed frustrated drivers, honked trying to get off on a busy off road. Protestors were trying to block gas consuming vehicles from using the ramp that led to one of the grandfathered gas stations still in business. This is why I always rode my bike. I wanted to scream at the stupidity of the situation but clenched my teeth in irritation.
My Gpad had an auto running countdown that I flicked up. Twenty-two days and three hours. That was straight from the NASA Gsite. We were not completely unaware there was an asteroid flinging between Earth and the sun soon. The problem was the transition date had been changed three times already. Based on the fact that the three predictions increased the arrival time, to sooner than initial calculations, I gave it a week until the news would break. I think the NASA guys who knew the truth were out of obvious lies on why the asteroid was speeding up. There would be very little excusable gibbering the next time when the only answer was ‘The aliens reacted and sped up after blowing our deep range observation satellites into smithereens’.
I also came to the conclusion that the government would give a warning at least a few days before. My hypothesis was they would want to start locking down key sites with tanks and military units. You cannot move tanks without public knowledge. Then again, President Hansen may be in a secret bunker already saying ‘fuck the world, I am safe. Peace out’.
The glimmering billboards that demanded my attention were ineffectively zoned out. The city of Denver bustled in the mid-day sunshine. Over the past ten years, the population had nearly doubled which caused problems. Construction cranes soared into the air across the growing skyline. Automated builders competed against human crews as the city increased in height. The interior windows of first-class seating were clear and ad-free allowing me to see the advertising infested landscape. Simple windows from apartment homes now blared ads for those who still used ad-free combustion cars. My head bobbed up and down in self-acknowledgement that I would not cry if advertising was eliminated by hostile aliens.
A flight of helicopters was off in the distant south. My guess was they were training out of Fort Carson; it was the nearest base being just over an hour away. The six blackhawks spun in a lazy “u” and started to shrink against the cloudless skyline. Memories flooded back into my mind that I suppressed. Without thought, I had pressed my face against the glass to watch them maneuver. If only I had a few of those in the coming days. Or a pilot. Those ideas were flighty in my mind as I predicted military bases and big cities would be targeted. Even if the bases could defend themselves, they would not let unlimited citizens flood in.
When Jevon arrived tomorrow, we would start scouting locations to purchase that I had circled on my map during my planning phase. I let my drifting thoughts focus on what I needed to. A quick single line asked a question I had already sent to Torrez.
‘You at work? Send Status.’
‘Yes clear’ - Torrez
‘Commas matter.’
‘I finished English 12 and have read your reports. You forget commas more than Jasmine forgets my name.’ - Torrez
Jasmine was his daughter who was only recently reacquainted with her father. Torrez went through hell with Jevon and me. The man was arrested in Oklahoma by ICE. The moment he mentioned that, I was able to guess what offer he received. Serve your country, become a citizen. Torrez had his family waiting in Oklahoma for his return. When we finally made it home, well -
The auto-taxi turned and I saw Pew-Pew Emporium. A string of protesters tried to block the entrance that the police kept open. They were just about everywhere controversial. Leave it to those fighting for change to not work, collect free money, and then whine about social issues non-stop. I get people hated guns. I happened to love guns and the Supreme Court, even with its liberal leanings, managed to let respected citizens bear arms.
The whine of the electric motors went silent and our doors pinged red. We were warned to exit with caution. A few steps later, we were outside the shop. The parking area held high metallic temporary fencing to keep the protestors out. Pew-Pew was busy today as vehicles packed the lot and people streamed in and out of the store. I smiled when I thought about why Pew-Pew Emporium existed.
Most of the little shops had been shut down from the endless amounts of people blocking the entrances. What they did to counter the hate on their business was truly American. They banded together, rented an old K-Mart, secured the perimeter, and competed against each other under one roof. The Pew-Pew Emporium was a constant 24-7 gun show. Against the odds, they persisted.
“Why are we stopped?” Willow asked as the auto-taxi entered the queue to leave the parking area.
“Torrez is my friend. He is not on the team yet. Even if he declines now, I expect to keep him informed for later. He has a three year old girl named Jasmine, mentions her often. He… He…” I had to pause to control my horrid memories from consuming me. “Sorry. I owe him, and he owes me. We both have struggled to transition as civilians. He moved to Denver for DU. After starting school, he ran into too many issues. Hopefully, he tells you about them some other time when he is ready. We are safe to talk inside here. There will be video, but not audio. With that being said, I do not want you to push him if he refuses to team up. That is why we are paused. He will come to us if life becomes chaotic. He will probably resist because his wife just moved here and prefers warmer weather. Maria can be feisty and unpredictable. For all I know, she will be pro hiding until this is over.”
Willow gave me an approving pat on the shoulder and said, “Torrez is important and you want to avoid getting into a confrontation with him. Give him the time he needs. Torrez knows the situation, but does not have complete control over his home life. Got it. Now, how much can I spend and how are we taking it home?”
“Unlimited, really, and we are not taking it home. Not yet,” I said and gave a friendly wave to some bikers wearing MC vests with veteran patches plastered on the front. No wonder Torrez loved this place. I felt at home around the hard faces yet comradery smiles. Veterans… We’re just different. “They run deliveries out the back via drones normally. We will have it put in a trailer we tow behind an RV or two. Before you get excited about RV shopping, remember we are waiting for Monday. When is mom arriving?”
“Awe, she will love hearing you call her mom. Bit rushed, though. Still she is in a rough place, so do it. She quit earlier today because of a mean trainer and is in her car already. When I told her to pack for a month, she replied ‘Duh!’” Willow said with a scoff. “She was probably reading the news, desperate for something to happen. Hopefully she doesn’t become overbearing. She… has been lonely since I went to university. She wanted me to stay in community college and at home forever, I think.”
“I will try to make her arrival pleasant and if she pesters me with questions, then I will be happy to answer them.” I said with a smile.
“I see you relaxing here around guns and intense looking people. You were rigid at the park to the point you were somewhat unfriendly.”
“How about we go in?” I said and propped my elbow out for her to accept. “Also, about your mother, I feel she will do whatever it takes to survive. That woman managed to raise you, after all. What is a mere apocalypse?”
Willow randomly licked my face. I pulled her hair to remove her teasing gesture. Her eyes flared in delight and she bounced her eyebrows, asking for more. A ‘no-no’ motion with my head resulted in batting eyelashes and pouty lips. Our chemistry was indeed heating up.
“You deserved that,” Willow said as we neared the store entry. “I agree though, more fun later. Shopping first!"
There were no metal detectors at the threshold to Pew-Pew Emporium. A lone guard sat on an old four-legged brown stool with an M11 carbine resting across his armored chest. A first cavalry patch was velcroed right into the middle of the vest. Another veteran trend was we grew beards but kept our hair neat. Not
everyone, but this man did. He gave me a quick inspection at our approach. An incline of my head acknowledged him, and he touched the tip of his cowboy hat for Willow.
The building used revolving doors that rotated only one direction. The thick metal beams gave a clear intent of the security. Limit the flow of people entering quickly. Judging by the number of protestors held behind thin metal fencing and a few cops, I thought the concept was fitting.
We entered exactly what you would expect from a big box store. Bright LED lighting illuminating white floors and white pillars supporting a flat roof. That is where the similarities stopped. The opening display for the Pew-Pew was model airplanes hanging from the rafters around a replica tank firing behind a dig out. Kids climbing up the berms were fascinated going up and down the pretend hill while ignoring the tank and do not play signs.
A group of veterans handed pamphlets out to people passing by. I accepted the piece of yellow paper with black print scrawled over the surface. A quick inspection of the content told me these men and women were trying to prevent suicides. The helplines for mental health were in bold numbers and I stuffed the paper in my cargo pocket. Even when things had gone beyond grim, suicide had never been a thought I had. I know others did, and suicide was not something to scoff at. I found Private Cuomo behind the berm after his weapon discharge. So sad. I buried the memories with a painful swallow of my throat.
Willow caught onto my emotions and rubbed a hand down my arm. I directed a fake smile at her as we trooped down the white floors for a bunch of flyers pinned into a board. The opening was shop free. A gathering location where billboards, posters, and people delivered messages. I glanced over the notes and saw some veteran groups were recruiting. A construction team was looking for manual labor, skills learned on the job, and the pay was not bad. Veterans only though. There, I found what I was looking for and I even recognized the writing.
A white piece of paper had a single line written on it in red ink.
