March, 2066. T Minus 10 years 8 months to Judgment Day
Location: RobCo HQ, Las Vegas
Although he had a dispassionate view of the "capitalist pigs", Timmis Waine couldn't help being impressed by American ingenuity. The RobCo HQ was enormous, almost the size of the typical American military bases spread across the country. Dozens of people strolled in and out of doors to their assigned sector. The front lobby proudly displayed new RobCo tech that was on the market such as the new Mark 3 Protectrons that would be part of the new Washington DC Metro system; a prototype of sorts. But he knew that those inventions kept made people lazy and weak-minded like sheep. If there was to be technology, the Communist system for military and scientific use would be the way to go. With these thoughts in mind, he went up to the receptionist.
"Good morning Ms. Vallerie"
"Good morning Mr. Thomas. You have three in-box messages from your co-workers requesting to meet you. They are waiting in Room 212."
"Thanks Ms. Vallerie. Tell my co-workers that I'll be on my way and we'll continue on to our current business as of late. Tell me, how has the new targeting system my team has developed doing for the Protectrons?"
"The results have been sent to your mail box in your office. Have a nice day Mr. Thomas."
"You too, Ms. Vallerie"
With that, Timmis Waine started to walk towards his designated office. With the demand for new talent to supplement the losses from the New Plague, security wasn't thorough with their background checks. With his supposed background in computer science, Timmis Waine with the alternate name of Thomas Hads had been put on the top leading teams for the programming of all the new robots coming out of Rob-Co. If security had been thorough though, they would have actually found a man named Thomas Hads. They would have seen that Thomas Hads had once been a former employee of General Atomics and had been preparing to switch to RobCo for better pay. What they would not realize was that the real Thomas Hads had a knife in his back and was currently at the bottom of Lake Mead with a concrete cinder block attached to his feet. For nearly 4 months now, Timmis Waine had been masquerading as Thomas Hads. Without any family members or close associates, it was easy to act like Thomas Hads as no one had actually seen him behave. That provided the perfect cover to talk to "co-workers" on new "projects".
Timmis Waine stepped into Room 212 and was greeted with half a dozen people. One glance would arouse no suspicion at all. With the usual neckties and bowler hats, the people situated here were Caucasian and thus looked like what the public thought were "American Citizens" and not "Communist Spies". However, this batch of people were part of Dragon Squadron; the elite team consisting of double agents and spies from the Ministry of State Security. Although they had been initially selected for the attack on Hoover Dam, Chinese reports of a new "secret weapon" being developed by RobCo for the US Military seemed to have merit as those reports included deliveries of the experimental Fat Man Ordinance to RobCo HQ. That reason was why the team had been working at RobCo HQ for nearly 4 months now to uncover what was truly going on, and if the rumors were correct, to neutralize the threat before it was fully operational.
"You wouldn't just meet me here without checking for bugs, would you?" Timmis questioned.
The leader of Dragon Squadron replied.
"We did check for bugs, as usual. Now, all of us have heard some interesting rumors about some of the projects that have been going on here at RobCo. Those reports for those old Little-Boy Class mini-nukes have been confirmed. Multiple testimonies from "willing" high ranking employees have indicated that they have seen the nukes and the final nail in the coffin is the hacked footage my team has found. Show them, Liz."
With that, Liz brought the file card and inserted it into the RobCo Terminal in the room. With that, the video showed dozens of Little-Boy Class mini-nukes in secured military trucks driving into RobCo HQ. It seemed like the company itself was preparing for war.
Timmis Waine responded.
"For all intents and purposes, that confirms the reports. Now, what do we do about this weapon is now our responsibility. We could always sabotage the nukes, but those nukes are just part of the weapons system they have. We'll have to destroy the entire weapons system. Your team will start to follow the trace and locate pinpoint the nukes' destination. Once you have located the weapons system, remember your orders. Our first priority is to do as much damage as we can to the Americans. Don't do something stupid and reveal yourself. We have to do this properly and we must go back into the shadows of obscurity for our next mission. Any questions? No? Then let Operation Yangtze begin."
With that, Dragon Squadron and Timmis Waine parted ways and exited Room 212 with no incidents and leaks of the enemy spies on American Soil.
Location: Lucky 38 Casino, Penthouse Floor, Las Vegas
'I better move those nukes. Too much valuable men and material are at risk' Thought Mr. House.
The nukes in fact, were the provocative and glossy bait that would reveal any spies in RobCo but more importantly, divert attention away from the other orders that Mr. House had placed. Sure, the nukes were good, but they were far too volatile as of right now as reports from hacked RobCo terminals had indicated that "accidents" involving the mini-nukes had resulted in no remains to give back to loved ones. That was the reason why he had ordered them for the Liberty Prime Project as progress for that machine was going at a snail's pace. It would be a long time before there was enough power for the weapons system to actually carry the nukes. On the other hand, those weapons requests for the project had also given him access to high-grade military weapons to complete the project courtesy of the Federal Government. One of those weapon systems was actually going to be tested in the basement of the Lucky 38 right now. With a practiced stoic face, Mr. House stepped towards the elevator…
Location: Lucky 38 Casino, Basement, Las Vegas
Bob Shorters anxiously waited for the arrival of Mr. House. The representative of Glastinghouse Incorporated, Bob Shorters was a diminutive man with a brown ironed suit and red tie. His glasses combined with his soft-spoken attitude didn't radiate any confidence. He was chosen not for his talking skills or for his charisma, but because Glastinghouse Incorporated was having a bad time with business. Many had predicted that Glastinghouse would fail as the research and technology that was used had not been making any profits. It was estimated that the company would go bankrupt within a year. That was the case until the Federal Government had taken an interest in the company's products such as lasers and had given additional funding. That was just 8 years ago. Now, Glastinghouse Incorporated was the leading producer and innovator in Military Grade Laser Technology. A meeting with Mr. House indicated the power the company now had. The elevator chimed and the man himself stepped out to greet Bob.
"I do hope that what you have in your inventory is valuable enough for me to spend valuable time to watch Mr. Shorters."
"Of course Mr. House, Glastinghouse Incorporated would never waster valuable time for trivial matters. This new weapon will be used in military patrols and civilian bots in no time!"
With that, Mr. Shorters directed Mr. House's attention to what appeared to be a normal Gatling gun. That notion was changed when the weapon started to spit out lasers in a very short period of time. In no time, the practice target combusted and turned into ash. Mr. Shorters started to explain.
"The laser produced by the G-25 Gatling laser rifle has been able to go through Kevlar armor with no troubles whatsoever at all ranges. It will give anybody great offensive and defensive capabilities at ranges up to 650 meters. Best of all, these Gatling lasers have been designed to use as little power for the most gain. This makes it cheap to operate and to use while having a higher kill rate than the rest of the competitors. All in all, a good weapon against anyone from criminals to soldiers. So what are your impressions of it?"
"In my honest opinion, your company has done a splendid job. This new "product" is perfect for the new Mark 4 Protectrons that my programmers and engineers are designing as we speak. I'll take 10 shipments right now for quality control. Once I have deemed the products satisfactory, I'll order another 5000 shipments. The Federal Government will cover the cost accordingly. I'll be meeting you in 5 days to complete our contract. We have much to discuss later on. Good-bye and good day to you."
"You too Mr. House."
With that, Bob Shorters walked towards the elevator and proceeded to exit the Luck 38 Casino. Mr. House continued to study the Glastinghouse Gatling Laser. Mr. Shorters may have revealed most of the qualities of the laser, but to Mr. House's trained eyes, there were additional strengths and also serious weaknesses. For example, judging by the hidden thermometer that was connected to the Gatling laser, the weapon overheated far too quickly for any meaningful impact on the battlefield. A new material was needed to allow the Gatling laser to fire continuously for the goal of 15 minutes. But for now, the Gatling laser would be perfect for the project; just not the Liberty Prime project that many wanted complete…
Location: Big Mountain Research Facility, Classified
In the X-42 Robo-warfare facility, Dr. Menhauser looked triumphantly at his new creation. If one were to look at Menhauser, one would have thought he was a lumberjack with a stern face and a long black beard. The problem with that image was that he wore a white lab-coat and black-boots instead of the stereotypical blue jeans and overalls that one would have expected. The creation he had worked on seemed like an ordinary holodisk for whatever storage was needed; whenever it be a voice recording or a message for the workers to scrub off the blood stains that were in the cells at the Y-17 Medical Facility. Instead, this particular holodisk contained all the programming and code for an automated personality. A few weeks ago for whatever reason unknown to Dr. Menhauser, RobCo Industries sent a message via his own personal RobCo Terminal with this message:
To Dr. Menhauser,
I have an important business endeavor that may interest you.
As of now, the Protectron Robots that RobCo Industries is producing currently are effective at what they do; defending private property against tresspassers. Unfortunately, they have a severe problem. Because my programmers had the priority of cost-effectiveness, the Protectrons do not have the programming to initiate more complex commands and as such, are inadequate against a determined and well-equipped enemy. Here is where you come in. I am asking you to create a holodisk containing programming for a superior personality matrix than the one I have. I cannot do it myself as I have no such experience in personality matrixes and far too much attention has been put onto my company by "Project Liberty Prime". They could become desperate enough if they heard about me making an automated personality matrix to cripple any progress that I have made. You, on the other hand, are probably one of the most secretive organizations in the US as Chinese intelligence has not indicated that they have found any place codenamed Bait. If you do complete this task, a select fund of 800 million dollars will be awarded. As proof of my intentions, 25% of it is already being sent to you via a disguised Nuka-Cola truck as you read this letter. The rest will be sent with a bonus of 100 million dollars when the task has been complete. In addition, a sample of 75 of the new robots will be delivered to you via a normal RobCo delivery truck in the near future. The exchange will happen when the new robots will be sent to you. I have the utmost confidence that you will be able to complete this task with the tools you have at your disposal. I will meet you at the exchange for the final demands.
From, Mr. House, CEO of RobCo Industries.
As if on cue, Dr Menhauser saw from the corner of his eye the supposed Nuka-Cola Truck exiting the tunnel that was the only entrance into Big Mountain besides the railroad. If it were true, this funding would easily be able to give Big Mountain significant breathing space. Although Big Mountain was considered the leader in many fields of science including force field technology, budget cuts in the US tax system had forced Big Mountain to pander to third party companies by exchanging technology for funding. It wouldn't be the first time Big Mountain had done it, but this endeavor could fund the Big Mountain for a good few decades. It would also give the Big Mountain a new toy to experiment, primarily for Dr. Frielander. And so, he began his work. Although this was a paid job, creating automated personality matrixes was one of, if not the best hobbies Dr. Menhauser had. If he wanted a guard personality matrix, he could create even better; personality matrixes so complex that they could even have the programming of a soldier! And so he created it. For nearly 3 weeks, he toiled at his work. Neglecting and ignoring the drills working on the X-42 Robo-Scorpions down below, he finally completed the diagnostic checks 4 weeks after he had received the letter. In front of him now was that achievement. With shaking hands, Dr. Menhauser inserted the holodisk into the RobCo Terminal. Cartoonish pictures of a Policeman and a Soldier chomping on a cigar appeared on the screen.
'Stop, you are trespassing on private property. You have 5 seconds to leave immediately. Lethal force will be used." An authoritative and robotic voice emitted from the terminal.
"Ah yes, this should fit Mr. House's requirements nicely. Say, a Mentat would be nice right now for my hard work." Said Dr. Menhauser.
With that, Dr. Menhauser took the holodisk and proceeded to have his daily Mentat break while being unaware of the magnitude of power he had just created in the centuries to come.
Location: Lucky 38 Casino, Penthouse Floor, Las Vegas
With a rare triumphant smile, Mr. House looked at his RobCo Terminal. On it, the disarm codes for the Ying Ji Model 2045 ICBMs and the Long-Mao Model 2052 ICBMs were at his fingertips. A number code that seemed to change every 2 minutes, it would have seemed nonsensical to those who did not know its true purpose. Unfortunately for the rest of the United States right now, the disarm codes for the missiles aimed at them were out of reach for now and would have to be put as a second priority. Chinese Internal Security was starting one of its regular "Loyalty" testing phases throughout the entire Chinese network. Although Mr. House was confident that no one would be able to track his unauthorized signal, an unknown variable in the equation could easily undo careful and methodical espionage. As such, the safety of the rest of the United States would have to be put on hold for the moment. Right now, the report he was getting was encouraging. If the code system did not change in the near future, Las Vegas would be protected against any of the nuclear missiles for the next 10 years. Now, it was a matter of getting rid of the bomber squadrons on standby alert to drop their ordinances. With fanatical devotion to the state, it would be hard to take them all out as the Chinese preferred quantity as a weapon. Just one thermal-nuclear bomb was needed to wipe Las Vegas off the face of the United States. No, brute force would not do. Cunning and intelligence would win this battle; something Mr. House had over many people. With a sip of water, Mr. House started to calculate the probability of success of his latest plan. If it did work (a probability of 86.5% chance didn't hurt), the bombers would not be able to even launch into the air with a power that no military man (Chinese or American) never wanted to deal with: the Bureaucracy…
Location: Poseidon Oil Rig, Pacific Ocean
In the public eye, the Poseidon Oil Rigs that were still operational were still bringing in oil. Outside of it however, many of the Oil Rigs were already being converted into something else entirely. Inside, the aptly named Situation Room looked just like the real room in the White House. Currently, 5 seats were filled and a discussion was taking place.
"You sure you haven't gotten any confirmation from him?"
"Affirmative, he hasn't responded in any way to our warnings or our orders to proceed to this location."
"Could be possible that he has cold feet right now."
"If that's true, than nothing will stop him from leaking this to the public."
"We can't afford it, the public blowback and panic would collapse the fragile economy and organization we have right now. If government officials are being reported going to secret locations and preparing for the worse, than those doomsayers will have merit."
"What do we do?"
"Deploy the special units. Get him to join us here or tie up the loose end."
"He's the CEO of a major company, we can't just off him like the usual."
"Arrange an accident of some sorts if worse comes to worse. He's far too dangerous and more importantly, far too unpredictable on his own with that sort of influence and power. I want him in this room or at the bottom of Lake Mead in at least a year. This mission will have no traces back to us, got it?"
"I'll call it in. Consider it done."
With that, the 5 people left the room with the soon-to-be infamous Enclave Symbol hanging above their heads…
Author's Note
And with that, that concludes Chapter 4 of Preparations of the Apocalypse!
In short, real life got in the way of the upload schedule I planned last chapter. I've decided to do infrequent uploads to this story as it takes some time for me to get the story going. Also, I'll be doing revisions on the previous Chapters to make it more realistic and formatted better. I'll see you in the next Chapter and hope to live another day in the Wasteland.
-Great Big World
