The Prometheus Effect

by Jonathan Davison

  Joshua wondered if he was ever going to make it back to the office at this rate. He had never seen anything like it. It was almost as if these people had suddenly been given licence to act out their most base desires and the prospect of the consequences of their actions was utterly ignored. The one thing that was clear was that the police force were in no way prepared for such a large scale event. Their resources spread so thinly across the capital that the looters did not fear arrest. It was only when Joshua encountered another melee further up the road that he realised that the control of the population had now been handed over to the military.

  An armoured car was parked in the centre of the street, surrounded by a throng of excitable anarchists who cajoled and harried the soldiers. It was a tense standoff, even from a distance, Joshua could see that the crowd were pushing the soldiers, testing them. One of the vehicles began to rock back and forth as the crowd pushed and pulled the heavy car, a single soldier visible from a turret waving his arms furiously.

  Joshua crept further along the road, he was conscious that there were more and more people around him but he was not overly familiar with the London thoroughfares. He knew that both his hotel and his office were in the direction past the belligerent mob. A crackle of gunfire stopped Joshua in his tracks. The soldier had hoisted his assault rifle into the air and let off a volley of shots. The crowd all ducked down low as one giant quaking mass but then rose defiantly bringing the soldier to aim his weapon lower. The show of force had not had the desired effect of dispersal, instead it appeared to enrage the crowd who flailed their limbs around in protest. Joshua wondered how many of the people were just members of the public who were scared and needed some kind of reassurance, their number seemed to be growing by the second.

  Bravely, Joshua moved closer, attracted by the prospect of information, he joined the periphery of the crowd. He could see that despite a contingent of low life scum, there were women and children in the throng, people who were well dressed, uniformed, suited. He could hear a number of voices louder than the others, the vociferous ones who would not be denied the knowledge they sought. Joshua could not get a grasp of what the lone soldier was yelling, he looked just as petrified as the rest of them.

  The more aggressive contingent once again began to rock the armoured car. Joshua could see the soldier press the headset to his ear as if he was begging for aid from his peers. The driver in the cab was forced to press his hot hand against the glass of the side window in order to steady himself. He too looked young, terrified and out of his depth. The turret soldier once again brandished his weapon with intent but the threat had long since diminished. The mob knew that if he was going to shoot he would have already done it long ago.

  Joshua gasped as he suddenly noticed bodies climbing up onto the car behind the soldier. The crowd bellowed as a hooded man grasped the young warrior from behind and another stripped him of his weapon. A rain of punches and kicks fell upon the youthful soldier until he fell helplessly from the vehicle and into the hands of the baying mob. The ingrate now clutching the high powered assault rifle proceeded to spend the magazine into the air with glee and Joshua clambered to move back and out of the crowd. Another series of shots rang out, and looking back, Joshua saw the hoodlum with the gun fall from the roof of the car. The driver emerged from the turret, his face white as a sheet, his fresh faced features gaunt. The crowd fell over themselves to scurry away as the vengeful soldier aimed his smoking weapon at the crowd and opened fire indiscriminately. Joshua heard the snap of bullets fly closely past his head and he was soon sprawled upon the ground being crushed by the fleeing people. The firing stopped and then a second later there was another burst as one of the mob had retrieved the other soldiers gun and began to return fire.

  Screams of desperation and pain were heard as the swathe of panic proliferated amongst the gatherers. Joshua could barely inhale a breath as he crawled over others who had fallen to escape the horrific scene. He finally managed to get to his feet using other helpless bodies as a crutch and sprinted despite his ills, away and around the corner where he fell to the floor in a ragged heap gasping for oxygen.

  Joshua did not linger long, a few deep inhalations were enough to give him the power to once again move and flee. Barely stopping to look back, he ensured there was a good hundred metres between him and the scene before he allowed himself the comfort of a brief respite. Hands on knees, his throat was raw as he spat out blood upon the ground and looked upon the other survivors as they jogged past him. It reminded him of the infamous scene from the Vietnam war which had been so courageously reported by his predecessors. The fleeing people then had survived a savage napalm attack. The look of shock and disbelief on these people's faces was much the same now as they stumbled down the road having just witnessed the closest thing to hell on Earth.

  Joshua continued to move. He had no wish to get caught up in any more incidents like this one. Lost and pained, the adrenaline kept him mobile. Despite passing numerous bystanders who appeared to have benign intentions, no one spoke. It was almost as if everyone had lost their tongues and had become as hopelessly lost as Joshua. Maybe it was the sheer shock of the events of the day, maybe it was just caution. No one dared to invite trouble.

  Eventually, Joshua reached a road junction that seemed familiar and he realised that he was on the right track back to Fleet Street. Finally reaching the offices, he had to hammer on the reception door in order to gain entry. Some thoughtful workers had begun to lock and border up the entrances, perhaps having witnessed events or maybe just showing foresight. Flashing his pass furiously as the occupants dilly dallied regarding his entry, finally he was admitted. At last he felt safe.

  “Jesus!”

  Sarah Palmer exclaimed as Joshua hobbled into the main office. He was suddenly overwhelmed with well meaning but medically inept people who were offering their wisdom.

  “I'm OK. Maybe a bust rib, a few cuts and bruises.” Joshua said modestly.

  “What happened?”

  Sarah was business like as always.

  “The radio station's output is being jammed or the signal is being lost somehow. All appears normal at the station, if you can call any of this normal?”

  “No, that's not what I meant. What happened to you?”

  Joshua was surprised at his colleagues unusual warmth. In the short space of time he had come to know her, she always came across very focused and a little cold.

  “I've written off the car. Someone hit me, someone's been killed.”

  The office fell into a hush as workers who had previously been chatting strained their ears to listen.

  “Look, it's a nightmare out there. There's live ammunition being fired, the authorities seemed to have lost control already. Don't go out. Get our guys back in.”

  Joshua sat shaking, his hands clammy and cold.

  “Well that's impossible, we can't contact them obviously. We won't send anyone else out though.”

  “Where's Bill?” Joshua asked, inquiring the whereabouts of the Duty Editor, Bill McManus.

  “Don't know. I'm guessing those that live further away couldn’t make the commute or didn't want to. After all who would want to leave their house after that message?”

  Joshua nodded, he understood too well why it was important to stay indoors. For the time being and until further notice, the office was Joshua's home. He did not know for how long their lives would be suspended at a tense standstill, if he had, he would surely have made provision for the coming days, for this was just the beginning.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Messenger, Fleet Street

  November 15th 2020

  Tempers frayed and frustration often grew into intolerance as the world as Joshua knew it was put on indefinite hold. Hours of waiting soon grew into days and outside the offices, Joshua and his team witnessed the true extent of unrest under the darkened ruby skies. Many of the Messenger staff made the brave effort to go home to their families. Thick swathes of smoke appeared abov
e the high buildings of the capital and periodically, gun shots could be heard from the near distance. The ground trembled with small explosions and the windows rattled to reinforce the notion that London was witnessing a new, distressing and unprecedented period of widespread civil unrest.

  The broadcast of the warning never changed, it looped inexorably, not deviating from its original statement and with every passing hour, speculation regarding what the 'incident' was grew more fanciful and terrifying by the minute. The feeling that even the authorities were completely in the dark was not intangible, several reporters had braved the streets to make their way to Parliament Square. Their mission was to obtain some vestige of comfort from somebody in the know but the intrepid journalists were never allowed to make it that far. There were blockades and the armed forces were present in great force using lethal force to protect whatever secrets lie beyond the barrier. Those that even entertained the thought of breaching the hastily constructed barbed wire fences were apparently cut down by machine gun fire without so much of a warning. The returning reporters white, pallid complexions appeared to reinforce their horrific accounts and the tension within the offices grew as each word passed their lips.

  On the second day of the red sky, those that had not left the building began to put into place contingencies for the immediate future, namely stocktaking the food that was present in the canteen and the vending machines and securing the building. Fleet Street was mercifully quiet during non business hours anyway, it was not near a residential area and thus their surrounding area was fortunately spared the worst of the looting and rioting which ensued. Some of the more courageous of the twenty or thirty that remained took turns to scout the area and gather information. Makeshift beds were put together and the solidarity between the remaining staff kept spirits up despite the frustration of being completely in the dark as to their prospects.

  Joshua wondered as did others if the unrest witnessed was similarly going on in other cities across the world. Joshua longed to return to his Oxford home but like others, did not feel that it was worth the risk to attempt to travel in the circumstances. For now, the warning message was the one thing that they could all grasp on to and share. The events of the past couple of days had suddenly brought out a feeling of isolation amongst them all and the fact that they could share their fears was the only small comfort they had.

  In the afternoon of the second day, the maddening lack of information provided by the television drew raised voices.

  “This is ridiculous, why are we all sitting here on our hands waiting?” A young reporter raged. Joshua did not know him but he empathised with his statement. However, he had already tasted the atmosphere on the streets and was not inclined to opt for immediate action. The office had been swiftly rearranged into a living environment. Some more comfortable sofa like chairs were hauled in and the staff sat around in a large circle.

  “The army must know something. We need to find someone whose willing to let us know what's going on!”

  Another young reporter continued the argument until Joshua interjected.

  “The army aren't talking, they're shooting, we've seen that.” Joshua exclaimed forcefully. Sarah sat beside him biting her beautifully manicured nails.

  “I think the most worrying fact is that the authorities seem to be wilfully keeping us in the dark. They must know that this lack of information is causing widespread unrest. Whatever has happened, they seem unwilling to share.” Sarah said running her fingers through her long straight brown hair.

  “Or incapable of sharing.” Joshua added. That was the most terrifying hypothesis of all. If there was literally no one at the helm of the country, then without the communication networks that the population had come to rely on so heavily, England would turn into a tribal free-for-all culture until power would be attained by the ones with the means to do so.

  “Are we talking about a total meltdown here, this is crazy, like some post apocalyptic video game!” The young angry reporter continued. The silence that followed neither indicated agreement or rejection of the young man’s statement however, it was not inconceivable that at the current rate, the capital would soon begin to look rather like the images conjured in someone’s dark imagination.

  The silence was suddenly shattered by a noise from outside, a noise that perked everyone’s ear's up and brought people to their feet. A Tannoy system, it's message indecipherable, it was distant and feint. Joshua moved to the window and opened it as wide as it would go as his colleagues crowded around him to thrust their heads as close to the sounds as possible. The sound was getting closer and the tension became more unbearable as they all waited patiently for the message to come closer. The tinny voice reverberated off the high walled buildings and the ensuing echoes did little to aid clarity. Finally, a small convoy of army vehicles rounded the corner and came into view. Joshua was being pinned against the sharp window frame such was the intensity of his colleagues interest. It did little to aid his bruised ribs from the brutal car crash the day before. The public address was suddenly loud and clear, there was no difficulty in hearing every word spoken by a mature male with a slight Black Country accent.

  Attention – you must remain inside until instructed to do so. Failure to do so will result in the use of lethal force. Further information will be broadcast imminently. Do not panic, stay in your homes or workplaces. This is for your own safety, be patient and wait for further instruction.

  Joshua looked down at the heavily armed troops which lined the vehicles as they returned the desperate glances of the many people who clambered to hang out of windows all the way along the street.

  “What's going on?” He heard one man bellow from across the street in an adjacent block. He yelled loudly enough to be clearly heard by the troops who looked over to him. Joshua noted their body language, a tell-tale shrug of shoulders from one of them gave him more of an insight than he had managed to gather from the previous twenty four hours. The troops were clearly as much in the dark as everyone else.

  The convoy passed and the same message rang out eventually fading into unintelligible noise once again as it turned off the street. The office's occupants moved away from the window back to their easy chairs in contemplative silence.

  “Well, at least we know one thing. No one's leaving this building now, they're not fucking around anymore.” Said Mohammed Bashir, an I.T. Support guy from one of the dingy back offices.

  “Whatever is going on, whoever is in charge has the whole population shitting themselves, I mean, is this some kind of coup?” Asked Harry Lepond, a bearded cleaner whose wisdom defied his lowly position.

  “I don't think so. Anyway, look at the damn sky. Whatever this is, this isn’t some petty revolution. This is global.” Sarah Palmer added as she slumped down forlornly. Bashir was excitable, it was not often he got to rub shoulders with the rest of the staff.

  “The message seemed to imply that the army's guns weren’t the only thing that could be a threat to us if we went outside. For the army to be instructed to use lethal force, there must be some serious shit going on. Maybe we are all gonna die and the government just don’t have the heart to tell us? Maybe there’s some big-ass asteroid on its way down?” Bashir did nothing to aid morale.

  “If that were the case then why tell us anything?” Sarah replied wisely.

  “Aliens.” A voice came from across the room.

  “Aliens, it's got to be.” Michael Sprake was a young intern, to this point he had hardly made a squeak. Joshua chuckled to himself suddenly reminiscing about his unusual recent research.

  “Well I think we should defer to the wisdom of the powers that be for the time being. They are making sense, the streets are dangerous for anyone right now. Let's sit tight and wait for this next broadcast. Right now I'm more worried about more immediate problems like when we are going to run out of food. I guess at least we have power and water still.” Sarah reminded them all that it could be far worse.

  Joshua nodded in agre
ement, their situation was not uncomfortable and in some ways, the no nonsense approach of the army comforted him. Their message could not be misconstrued, you would have to be insane to challenge them by walking the streets. At least that might bring an end to the looting and general lawlessness and allow the staff of The Messenger to sleep more soundly in their makeshift beds. Until then, all eyes were glued to the screens awaiting the next message. The last time this many people gathered around their television sets with baited breath was 1968 and Man was perilously close to settling down on the moon for the first time. Now that perceived danger was a collective one, Mankind was perched on a precipice staring down into an abyss. What was waiting for them in the darkness was anyone’s guess.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  November 16th 2020

  The television screens which had not been switched off for three days suddenly went blank at 14:05 GMT on November 16th. The blue and white banner which had adorned the screens for the preceding three days had burned its image into ageing plasma screens and left an eerie, ghostly after effect. The end of the first message drew gasps of intrigue and trepidation, its words had been studied and memorised by all those who saw it, it had become a focal point of a population so drained by the experience of the previous days that any news would be gratefully received no matter how disturbing or profound it was to be.