On Earth, populations of people from many nations moved from city to city, seeking shelter under freeways, ditches and abandoned buildings. Some populations were so large that small micro-governments were established from within just to keep a form of civil management. Physical contact was almost always endured. Thousands brushing against each other just to get to the market or down a simple sidewalk, everyone always breathing in twenty other individuals’ exhaled air. Hygiene and sanitation quickly became a commodity.
Soon the winter of 2035 arrived, and along with it, flu and cold season. The cold spread like wildfire through the mass populations. Pharmaceutical companies became the highest stock the Earth had ever seen. Countless medicines departed drugstore shelves, with many new ones manufactured to better remedy the high count of viruses.
In the end, it was not enough.
Out of these common viruses came the most infectious of all: an incurable common cold. Appearing early in the winter of 2035, a new super virus was discovered. Dubbed by scientists as the Black Cell, at the time it was no more than an intense cold, a mutation of a rhinovirus strain. Scholars now speculate that the strain mutated from a certain individual’s gene type. The common cold had changed.
By late 2035, the virus had a kill rate of twenty-two percent with still no cure in sight. At this point the virus commonly began with a cough, progressing to hacks, then back-breaking spasms and internal hemorrhaging, followed by death. Yet despite the gruesome kills, the deadly virus never went cross species. People tried to avoid mass populaces wherever they could once they were aware of what the virus could do.
Nations funneled innumerable funds into the pharmaceutical monopolies of the world as R&D was over-clocked. Tens of thousands gathered in front of colossal skyscrapers belonging to the most well-known medicinal corporations, protesting that pharma groups had withheld a cure in order to capitalize. However, the simple truth was that no cure existed. The virus was adapting from person to person, always killing and always manipulating a different genetic code.
Eventually, a temporary solution was invented: costly devices called ‘breathers’, an advanced breathing filtration device, affordable at first only by the wealthy. After manufacturing cuts the common man could afford one as well, though only after paying a crippling fortune. More complex than a gas mask, a breather never needed to be refiltered. The breather was extremely sophisticated for its time, able to block out microscopic particles such as those in the virus indefinitely.
Soon a greater threat arose from the Black Cell and lingered through the following seasons: the cost to survive was too high. Poor attacked rich, and rioting did away with normal lifestyles. What started as protests against a simple virus soon turned to racism, religion, prejudices and clashing social groups. Cities crumbled. Nations fought for land and control as hundreds of thousands died every day. Modern civilization became an image of flames beyond recognition, as meanwhile, the Black Cell only grew stronger.
By 2042, the Black Cell was a machine, mutating to a one-hundred percent kill rate. Anyone who met it perished within minutes. With its newfound power, the virus made the human race an endangered species, killing relentlessly and taking lives by the millions each day. By this time, major countries existed only in name, remembered in smoldering and decaying landmarks that reminded us of civilizations lost. Governments extinguished themselves of funds and destroyed each other. From a political standpoint there were no governments, only wanderers who moved from city to city in an attempt for survival.
The loner and nomadic wanderers were all that remained of humanity, surviving by using salvaged breathers, killing rodents and avoiding cannibalistic fanatics, bandits and the harsh environments the world left behind – all while the virus kept killing. Humanity suffered greatly, barely surviving.
But just as humans have always done in the past, we endured. Still, little over ninety-million living humans remained in the world by 2057. The Golden Age of the 21st century would only exist in a fractured memory. The year 2057 would mark the era known as the 2nd Dark Age.
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EXCERPT CONTINUED:
CHAPTER LISTING: “Distress Detected”
Distress Detected
2084: Earth is unrecognizable. Although it is difficult to pinpoint the exact number of breather-surviving humans during this period, The League of Scholars estimates that there were fewer than twenty-five million humans left on the planet. Its major cities, now wastelands, were home to scavengers and marauders. Small colonies were present and scattered about the wastes and city graves, but real survival was dependent on the wanderers who roamed the wastes, scavenging supplies, weapons and trading materials. They also served as freelancers, messengers and mercenaries. This way of life was not ideal, but it was living, and could yield riches in a time where another day of living was gold.
But the planet would go through major change again. Radio towers in the wastes that broadcast “By wanderers, for wanderers”, a term coined by a band of radio jockeys, began to receive strange transmissions almost daily. The messages were unintelligible. Theories were put to the test as to who, if not from other broadcasters, they could be coming from. All the while, unknown to the Earth, distant and watchful eyes had been kept on the planet by the most unlikely of peoples … and with them, help arrived from the most unlikely of places.
Wanderers looked to the skies in awe as they watched the looming capital vessels touch down on Earth’s soil. The moment was a monumental landmark in human history and is still revered in stories and media to this day. For days the vessels lay dormant, with no activity to be seen. Countless crowds gathered around them, camping out until finally the ramps and hatches opened on the ships. There emerged the distant and noble alien species known as the Revente.
Humans quickly gave them a name they could better pronounce: Aurorans, stemming from the first Auroran vessel making landfall in the quiet town of Aurora, Texas, in the south of the late United States of America. Genetically superior to humans in every way and at least equal in intelligence, they were also immune to all of Earth’s diseases and viruses, including the Black Cell. They appeared wherever any major populace had formed, hundreds of colossal ships all over the world.
In the year 2100, humans graciously accepted the alien helpers. They were kind and cared about the survival of humans due to our potential status in the galactic community of the Milky Way Galaxy. To the rest of the galaxy, the Revente were a neutral and helpful species to those in need, never taking a side and acting as galactic peacekeepers to protect the galaxy from evil and ill intent. The Revente helped the humans for decades, stabilizing the population and keeping it from declining by putting humans into safe zones aboard Auroran ships for medical treatment. They also built living arrangements and constructed advanced breathers for every human being so that no one would find themselves in the grip of the virus anymore.
Now that humans were safe from the Black Cell, the Aurorans then began helping humans reconstruct our civilization as close as it was before the virus, using Auroran technology to advance us to near equals. Towering buildings were made, shaping Earth slowly into a new utopia. Debris was cleaned and people were made safe for the first time in decades. Every building was made airtight with ‘clean rooms’ before entering the structures to keep the virus from harming humans. Major cities were brought back to life, and classic names like London, New York, Moscow, Shanghai and more were re-birthed.
The Revente had a legacy that spanned unknown millennia and one of their first social masteries was infrastructure. In a staggering twenty years major cities were completed with Revente architectural influence visible, where upon there was no evidence of any disaster. In 2120, humans were left to repopulate the great gift of cities and technology while many Revente remained on Earth. Their only objective now was to tackle the threat that started humanity’s turmoil so long ago: the Black Cell.
Many top scientists from Nera’Revente, the Revente homeworld, flocked to Earth to c
ombat and attempt to triumph over the virus, a right of prestige and honor for their ancient family houses. For years, the alien helpers tried to formulate a cure or inoculation for the humans, but despite their knowledge of medicine and advanced technology, the Revente could not find any such cure. While they believed the inoculation lay in their own blood because of their immunity, physiology between the Revente and homo-sapiens was complex enough to make a cure impossible.
In the meantime, humans were steadily repopulating their new world. Soon politics were re-established and the Earth Federation was formed to keep civilization balanced. Ambassadors from the Earth Federation, in present day the Earth Council of Governments, invited their heroes to stay and live among them as equals. The Revente Empire gladly accepted.
END HOLOBOOK VIEWING: “Humanity Zero: Old Earth Compendium”
FIND HOLOBOOK:
“Humanity & the Revente: A Relationship of Doubt”
Earth Express Novels; W. Villeneuve; Publication Date 2466
SEARCH CHAPTER LISTING: “MODERN EARTH HISTORY”
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…Over time, relations with the Revente had become strained. While they helped humans colonize the farthest planets in the Sol System, they didn’t trust humans with interstellar travel due to crime, a corrupt government, and most importantly, the Black Cell. Although immune, the Revente feared the possibility of the virus mutating on their own homeworld and other planets within their Empire. Some humans carried resentment towards the Aurorans as well, claiming they were holding back a cure or didn’t view humans as equals, or through plain fear-mongering towards aliens.
In the present day, over four hundred years since the Black Cell emerged, Earth’s existence is bittersweet. The virus is still present and kills any who aren’t cautious. The towering spires of buildings throughout the planet have become inconceivable metropolises but have left the undercities to live in a state of dystopia. There, crime has become a constant concern as well as a way of life.
Despite tensions between our two species, we both accept and live amongst each other, with many Revente finding a new home on Earth. Even to this day, select Revente and human scientists still struggle to find a cure for humanity.
It is a different time now. Humans have colonies throughout the Sol System, and many have been made stable and breathable thanks to the Aurorans' gifted terraformers. The System has many major problems, including crime, Revente tensions, racism and war. Earth will always remain the homeworld of humanity, and our future lies with Earth. But Earth has changed. Earth is not the same.
Wendy Villeneuve, Earth Express Novels
END HOLOBOOK VIEWING:
“Humanity & the Revente Empire: A Relationship of Doubt”
END SESSION
USER LOGOFF
3
THE M.C.P. BLUES
Mars Colony: A tranquil escape from the mediocre and the next step to YOUR future!
If you had the credits, that is. The brochures often left out the costly rates of the Red Planet’s vacations and lifestyle. The colony was home to many of the Sol System’s wealthiest businessmen and high class citizens. If you could afford it, it was paradise. Waking from your bed and seeing the red mountain cliffs in the distance from your window was just as surreal as each day before it.
And if you didn’t have the credits, you couldn’t afford to be thinking about such a lavish lifestyle in the first place.
Hundreds of years ago, Mars was almost inhabitable due to its high CO2 composition, lack of a magnetic field and limited sources of water. The planet was regarded as a “close but not quite” colony. Mars Colony was compatible with AC or, Atmosphere Conditioning, a gift from the Aurorans and a luxury that few planets could receive. Special terraforming towers deployed by Aurorans in their own regions of the galaxy could be used on both polar caps and worked to restructure the atmosphere on a given planet that met very strict requirements. When installed, they generated a breathable atmosphere and could even be configured to purify water sources and process minerals into useable resources.
Mars was the second off-world colony, after Luna, to receive AC, providing the planet with a clean and rich atmosphere, reducing surface storms and bringing bearable temperatures as well. Alongside traditional living arrangements, additional domes throughout the colony were used for recreational purposes or business practices. Massive in scale, these domes truly were engineering feats.
Out of the way of major shipping routes and rarely pestered by Earth Council politics, living on the colony meant seclusion was almost guaranteed. Yet in addition to the protective living domes, the Mars Colony Police was also the finest police force in the System. Mars came armed with orbital defenses, an elite police force capable of handling raiders and pirates, and a small fighter wing that could keep even a minor shuttle raid at bay should the rare occasion occur.
Because no matter where or who you were, be it Earth or Mars, poor or rich, crime always found someplace to infest, even in the tranquility of Mars. Police Chief Warren Hardy knew this more than anyone, and he never let his guard down.
With over forty-five years in the late Mars Colonial Navy, and having been attached to the MCP since its conception, Hardy had seen everything that could be thrown at an officer of law. He carried a sense of duty about him and always did his best to protect the people. He was the finest Chief Mars would ever receive.
Hardy had put away all kinds of scum the criminal world could offer, and he knew that there were some psychopaths out there that could make your neck hairs stand up. Now he was dealing with a criminal out of a horror story. Despite all Hardy’s experience and the things he’d seen, some things got under his skin.
For the better part of the past month, the MCP had been tracking down what they thought might be an organ harvester, the act of illegally growing additional organs within a victim and later retrieving them, all while the unsuspecting victim was asleep. He would choose seemingly unimportant beings who would rarely be missed should an ill fate overcome them. Scars and incisions could be covered to near invisibility. Most investigations were taken lightly, but security was slightly elevated one week due to some light intelligence on the force about illegal medical practices.
While he probably could have avoided detection long enough to make a healthy profit of organs, their suspect became impatient and started collecting early from victims whose extra organs hadn’t fully grown yet. The organs were premature, but they’d make do for the market he intended to sell them to: the lower classes back on Earth. Soon he began conducting violent break-ins and harvests without sedation. Police eventually found a handful of victims brutally murdered and eviscerated, robbed of major organs. There was no questioning that a mad harvester was loose on the colony.
As he was making his final preparations to leave the station, the suspect was spotted by an MCP patrol inside Dome Seventeen while carrying two large satchels. MCP sealed off the dome in minutes, and their suspect made fast towards the dome’s security office, with his satchels in hand, where he became trapped in a corner.
Doctor Marius Tariot knew he was in trouble, but he had a Plan B. “No, not subtle, not at all, but could work,” Tariot muttered to himself in a nervous pace from the security office. He stopped to look at the two security officers he had killed only moments ago. The guards’ deaths had been quick, quiet and very personal. The kills were only seconds apart, with the second guard not knowing what struck him until he turned, only to have a medical grade scalpel thrust into the back of his neck. Tariot didn’t just use blades for malpractice but favored them as weapons as well.
Tariot looked at the camera monitors and saw the police reacting more quickly than he had expected. He began to panic inside the security room as a five-man MCP breaching team approached the office. He immediately activated the holographic interface on the control panels enabling the exterior and interior speaker, sending a message to the police outside and in. Several tenants began trickling out of the dome to seek safety
, but most were otherwise trapped after the announcement Tariot was soon to give.
“Mars Police!” Tariot shouted into the microphone. “I know you’re out there! Call your hounds off me! I have Dome Seventeen rigged to blow if you’re not compliant, and from the monitors here there are quite a few more sleeping citizens to be aware of in this bubble! Nobody in this dome moves or I send the place flying!”
The breach team moving to the security office halted as one of the officers spoke to another.
“Do we still breach?” one of the officers said.
“This isn’t breach and clear anymore,” the lead officer said. “Possible explosives. We stay put, hold positions.”
The breach team took a crouched diamond formation and held for orders in the open lobby area, staring down the hallway in front of them that led to the security office.
Hardy was leaning against his patrol car when he heard the PA message. He was a big fellow but not exactly overweight. With slicked-back hair, thick mustache, a navy-blue pinstripe suit and brown trench coat, and standing at over six-foot-six, he put out an impression of authority. Quickly he turned to his subordinate beside him.
“Captain Durant, order Strike Team 1 to stand down and clear out,” Hardy barked, “Damn it, I hope that bastard is bluffing.”
Captain Durant opened his comm channel on his wrist and put his finger to his ear to relay the orders. “Strike Team 1, stand down and clear out, Hardy’s orders,” Durant said. Shortly after, the strike team cleared out of the building, making an effective standoff.
“Can you give me the frequency for Dome Seventeen’s security office?” Hardy asked.
Durant flicked open his OPIaA for a quick look up in the Mars directory for Dome Seventeen’s security office frequency.
A blue holographic screen folded out of Durant’s wristband, as with his other hand he scrolled past numerous frequencies until he got to Seventeen Security Office- 178.2021. He highlighted it and waved it over at Hardy, the message flying through cyberspace and over to Hardy’s own tool.
Virion: The Black Cell (Volume One of the Virion Series) Page 4
